Heading back into reality.
And landing squarely in the mire.
After almost two weeks of living out of a bag, I’ve returned if only long enough to do laundry and start the process all over again.
For starters, I’d like to thank folks who placed orders for their patience. As of right now, all pending orders have been filled, and all jersey orders have been submitted to Voler.
As always, I thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
One bit of news, somewhat relating to the Black Market market, is I came across the following image of noise maker to the masses, Steve Albini sporting his own damned WSRW shirt at a recent show in Holland;
This was shot by a Dutch photographer named Koen, (otherwise known as Visual Violence), who clearly was in the right place at the right time, and for that, I’m forever grateful.
It was well timed indeed, because I just happened to get a whole new order of the shirt in question;
If you’d like one, well then place an order and I’ll get it out as quick as I can.
But back to the initial topic- the time away from the internet, and the site, and frustrations of the world was much needed, and I appreciated my time away sincerely.
I was excited to leave, and just as happy to return home, if only for a couple of days;
From there I moved on to the Santa Cruz mountains;
It was positively blissful, and was just the recharge I needed until I got home and things went a bit wonky.
A number of people have reached out to me regarding various bits they’ve gleaned off of my Instagram account.
Please let me say I’m alright. I’m getting rid of lots of stuff as an exercise…
The short version is that I’m challenging myself to acknowledge that nothing is precious, and everything is disposable.
I don’t care so much about my ‘art work’, I can’t ride more than a bike at a time anyway, and feel mostly like my nostalgia, or attachment to objects is suffocating me.
It could be looked at alternately was well- If I (me, the person typing these words) were to cease to exist tomorrow, a lot of useless crap would be left in my wake. Call it an existential crisis, or call it a person thinning out that which he feels no longer serves his best interest.
Perhaps It’s a bit of both.
At any rate, unless I made this decision under duress, which I did, and hear isn’t a good idea, I’m selling a bunch of my stuff, should anybody want to carry it away.
Boxing and shipping bikes is of no interest to me, as I haven’t the bandwidth for such things, and I’ve run out of boxes with which to ship paintings, so basically it’s a plea to folks who are local to come and rid me of my trappings.
Or if you will, rescue me from the quicksand of my own creation.
Dibs on my old Carrambas.
clowns and more clowns, I call dibs! Dude WTF, clean slate i guess? night