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Everything posted by Keepitrail

  1. I was OG before they fixed the forum clock.
  2. And better cropping & image size for sure. Joshua Tree, LA, BLM land, shotguns and the hollywood strip. I'm about to head down through Souther California, Nevada, Texas, Mississippi, and on thru Tennessee come a week or two. Anyone along for the ride?
  3. Spent a couple weeks in Humboldt County... Beautiful spot tucked up sixteen miles of dirt road in the mountains. Day in, day out, dawn to dusk trimming herbs. Primo audio book territory. A couple Cormac Mcarthy's and some of George R.R. Martin. Nights spent nestled around a campfire, talking shit and sipping beer. Running about in the moonlight.
  4. For anyone interested, a good friend of mine's father. Townes has gotten me through many difficult parts of my life. Live at the Old Quarter is a good start, Our Mother the Mountain is a good follow through.
  5. Meanwhile check out this art imitating life I found at a warehouse in hood oakland.... hahhahahahhahahahaa
  6. Yooooo Very busy lately... just moved to Oakland, caught a little charge, picking up some gigs, about to head to northern cali to trim up in the super deep woods at Mt. Shasta. no electricity, beautiful view, kicking it in a little tiny house with a wood stove again, typewriting and trimming 12 hrs a day. I will post up some good natural beauty flicks when I get back in a week. I managed to save my skiff and the engine, it's bundled on top of my car smelling up the parking lot like old marine rotgut, but I found a guy who'll keep it safe at his sailboat in Berkeley. Hope everyone is doing well. HOLLARRRRR!!!
  7. I rescind my previous post. I did like the desert walls, and you're pretty damn close to an incredible super secret hot springs out in the mountain desert. PM me if you want directions, it's seriously one of the most incredible places I've ever seen on this planet. Also Truckee was mentioned, that is superb.
  8. Are you for real? What happened?? Fuck... I was trying to get a hold of him to do a wall last time I was in TN. I will post up some pictures of our old haunts and productions. I really regret being such a fucking hothead back then. Dude was an incredible skater and always down for the count. That makes me super fucking sad. RIP Hood.
  9. ^^ video of removing the top skin. Much easier with head & feet removed!! chopped & quartered ready for fried squirrel with cream sauce & linguini.
  10. We are getting kicked out of our place in Berkeley so if anyone is looking for roommates let me know! Context: My landlord is 87 years old and I can't put up with her anymore. I set up a hammock in the woods behind the house and she flipped out. Set off the alarm system to wake me up at 7:30 am to discuss how I'd been colonizing the property. yechh... If only she had seen any of the shit I've been doing here the past six months... hahahahaa.... a HAMMOCK!! HA! Accidently sliced open the abdomen barrier. It worked out OK though. I should've gutted it before skinning, but it's pretty much all the same in the end. Stick a foot on the back legs & pull that shit off like a sweater . Removing entrails & finishing the skinning of the back end . keeping the fur & feet safe
  11. http://sf.funcheap.com/folsom-street-fair/ Planning the weekend. Saturday surf in Santa Cruz, finish a mural on a van, then Sunday eat acid and go to the folsom street fair and romp around SF.
  12. If anyone is near the CA NA border and wants to check out this incredibly remote spot...pm me
  13. His left eye was broken open and had absorbed some tree-floor party favors, but nothing too awful. , , , first arm , rest of arms , , For some reason when I started to cut his head off the eye kept protruding out. It reminded me of the rabbit in Montana. I tried to get some good shots of it but I don't think anything will ever come close to that rabbit eye.
  14. The girl made the most important observation when we returned home - check for fleas. There aint nothin worse than waking up to fleas. Bedbugs, maybe, but I've been lucky enough so far not to tangle with those heinous creatures. We poked and prodded, and sure enough they were there - not many, but enough. The best "solution" (heh) is to immediately soak any wild animal in a mixture of warm water and soap. Any kind of dish soap, or pure castile (Dr. Bronner') works great. This kills the fleas and drowns anything else catchin a free ride on the fur freeway (hairy highway, if you prefer). It only takes about a minute, and does not affect the meat in any way. Also, who woudn't want a nice warm bath, even if you're dead! I'll save the eyesore of a wall of text - yall've seen it before. This time I opted to cut the feet off first, instead of cutting off the wrists and ankles along the fur line. It was much, much easier this way. I'm going to save the pelt and put it around my shifter knob on Dorothy.
  15. Yes... very shit people among the anchor outs. On the lighter side, I just picked up a slingshot from a garage sale yesterday. I have a pretty decent spread in my backyard here in Berkeley, about an acre of redwoods. In exchange for doing all the repairs and maintenance on the house & trails the lady who lives here gives me an absurdly low rent. No utilities either = happy KIR. Anyway, I headed out around dusk last night to see if the ole slangin' arm was up to muster. I fired off a couple of rocks and acorns at the house across the trail (their dog never shuts the fuck up) and it seemed decent enough. Nothing fancy, just a plastic pistol grip and the steel forkies with a surgical tube & a wrist jam. I also had some pretty weighty steel 3/4" beanie weanies that I scooped out of a bin at the construction site down the road. Ball bearings I suppose. I fucked around for a bit, working out the wrist-rust and wailing on the neighbors car with pine seeds, and just as I'm about to be satisfied with my diddlings, who comes prancing along but that sly old tree-rat, rustling his nuts up above my head. "Why if it isn't Mister Squirrel, come to raid my birdfeed and tease me with his silly chatter! Well go ahead and keep that smug look, I've got a little surprise for you, smug basterd!" I loaded up the wrist rocket with one of the steel beans and sent one whizzing past his tail about a half a foot off. He took notice of this and returned fire with a slew of nasty insults, in that ridiculous cheek of his, stuff the good lord knows aint fit for print. Well it weren't much for me - I've hardened ears - I took the time he spent slanderin me to wiggle one more of them balls in the leather sachet. This time that ball went straight home - he wasn't but ten or fifteen yards - but boy that chatter stopped real quick. Down he went - fwump - to the redwood floor. He fiddled around a bit, nerves I suppose, and then took his last one. I put one more load of rock into his head to make it quicker, but It wasn't but a couple of seconds till he was out of this world and on to the next one. I picked him up, said a little something, and brought him back to the house. I tossed him in the trunk - the girlfriend was waiting on me to hop over to the lookout spot for to catch the sunset. It felt nice to have a good, weighty piece of fur in your hands. He was large - probably four or five pounds - and quite clean. I couldn't wait to get him cut up and soaking in a brine.
  16. I'm working on a video edit of some pretty cool shit we saw at the burn. I'll be done in a day or two. I just got off the phone with this guy in North Hollywood. I found his bag full of camera gear, credit cards, ID's, electronics, etc splayed out on the highway a week ago on a return trip to pick up a friend from Black Rock City, and just now got a hold of him. What a great feeling, you could literally hear his smile. There is little in life that can hold a candle to seeing the joy in someone when something they thought was gone forever just pops up out of the blue. On that note, Very Bad News. While I was in Tennessee, and subsequently at the burn, someone cut the anchor line to my sailboat. It drifted about a half a mile onto the rocky shore of Tiburon where someone - probably the person who cut the line - stole everything off of it. Of course this happens when I am not in town... They took two of my paintings, the sails, the tiller, all of my tools, books, a book of my fucking DRAWINGS and NOTES from the past year, my cushions (WTF?!), my anchors, chain, rope, and literally everything that wasn't bolted down, and even some of that, too. The shell of my once beautiful companion is now sitting at the scrap yard, where the harbormaster (you may remember him from a previous adventure - fucking piece of shit scumbag) says he won't let it out unless I pay him $1200 - about $400 for towing and $800 for back-fees for when he brought it in last time and kept it for a month because he wouldn't pick up the phone when I called. Anyway, my boat is gone... There is no way I can afford to pay that fee, replace all the missing parts, and anchor it out once more. I still have my skiff and the outboard engine, which was tied up to a friend's houseboat, but the magnificent "Ceremony" is now on the short-list to be crushed and buried as scrap. A very sad period of time for me, as this was my home, my first learning adventure in sailing, my go-to for solitude, my studio, writing room, and place to go when nothing else could be had. Waking up to the pelicans flying a dozen deep in formation, dive bombing fish, seals popping up and once or twice jumping into the skiff (!) while the delicate rocking lulled you into a timeless place reminiscent of some strange primordial forest... That was the essence of being anchored out. Even the phrase "anchored out", which in experience in truth becomes a sort of tether to nonreality. But, to put into action what that experience has taught me, it is merely the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. RIP Ceremony, you will be remembered and celebrated for many years to come. More pictures and video to come shortly, I will be posting a sort of memorandum of the times on my boat. In the mean time, I've got to build an irrigation system and work on my car. Hollar
  17. Damn, thank you. That means a lot. Seriously, I can't say it enough but the support I get just from 12oz has been an incredible impetus to keep me going and take pictures, write notes, and just look at everything from a more share-able perspective. I am about 1/3 done with this zine, which I will be doing a full color and b&w version in order to sort things out and get a bit more of a base to jump off before compiling the lot of it. I want to do at least 5 of the zines before getting into a larger format somewhere in between "Evasion", "Rolling Nowhere", "Travels with Charley", and a few others. I have a lot of regrets about not travelling more when I was younger as well, I didn't even truly leave my hometown until I was 23. Four years later, I am realizing how incredibly vast the world is. I have come close to dying several times in my life, close enough to realize what it means to be alive. It isn't death itself that scares me, but the idea of looking back and seeing wasted years. Years upon years spent doing little dances for what is it, half a crown a tumble? (Conrad) My biggest hope for this thread is that someone will find it and be inspired to drop their shit and just go for it. To know that no matter what, you can always come back to whatever it is you're doing - even if you hate it, you can come back to it - if you've gotten to where you are now, it won't take much to get back to it if you risk it all and end up flat. The most important thing is to have stories. Lots of stories and adventures. No one wants to hear about how you almost lost the Ferguson account, or the twenty years of toil you spent working for a promotion and how you finally got the corner office... The most depressing thing I experience is coming back home and seeing the people I grew up with just trudging along, year after year. Anyway, thanks for the prodding, it's shit like this that makes me really happy. Thanks yall.
  18. I am planning a trip through Europe, just backpacking and couchsurfing, I will definately hit you up if you are down to host a wayward traveler for a few days!! I would love to paint in Berlin, if you want to get down, there is a guy in Germany that writes the same name as me, the only other guy I can find that has the same name. I have talked to him several times on the web and set him up once with the people I do graff for here in SF when they went to Berlin to do a booth at a festival. Let's kick it in GERMANY!! I will keep you updated & give you 6 or so month's notice. Hollar!
  19. Absolute transendence. Of all the camps, all the wildness and drugs and debauchery, all the insanity and dawnbreaking decadence, this camp stands alone. Found on the last day.... the last day of the shitfueled, mollified index producing mayemfilled week. My camp. Lord had I found this camp a mile out in the middle of the desert any day sooner than the last fucking day I'd have never left.
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