Double Down.

See y'all in Vegas.

Wolverines!!!

A week of triumphs, a week of completion.

- - - -

The hour is late. George Bush is dreaming of dropping bombs. Dick Cheney is dreaming of oil fields. Colin Powell is having that ugly, reoccuring dream where he sobers up to the fact people say his name like "colon." Ha.

Like a good American, I'm doing my part. I’m watching Red Dawn right now. (Well, listening to it and every now and again, catching a glance of exciting shoot-‘em-to-hell scenes.) Y’know, getting fired up for war and shit. I remember seeing it when I was a young kid, with the “Red Threat” still this gigantic threat, wondering what it would be like if the Commies invaded Central Lake, Michigan.

I had all sorts of plans worked out. One part Rambo, one part Goonies.
I knew the woods real well up behind the high school. That was an option.
I was 11 years old when it came out.

“One way or another, for one reason or another…it’s all gone. We’re all gone.” –the Dad behind the fence.

- - - -

The week was good and mellow at Cinco. (For the most part.) The new Nixon ads are looking “S-I-C-K, sick.” So good. Beautiful portraits, good type=simple yet bold. A Double-Dog-Dare set of Gravis catalogs are finished being printed, and are currently in the long, tedious, grueling process of being bound by proud Americans. Once again, much thanks to the team. What a roster: Dean, Jered, Chris , Capozzi and I… the “Fab Five.”

Speaking of action sports, and it being winter and all, Goo and I are are heading down to Las Veg-ass for a couple days of loitering at the SIA Tradeshow. For all you fucks outside of the snowsportz industry, (and Rose, there is a life after the “X-sport” shit), the SIA tradeshow is the annual gathering of the Ski +Snowboard Industry of America ranks. I won’t go into detail. Lots of lurkers, lots of hope, lots of guys in deep conversation with wandering eyes on the hunt for more lucrative* chats.

(*Hmmm, what is that guy gonna do for me?)

This year I’m hoping to get sponsored. Just kidding.

I like seeing all the graphics. All the new boards, catalogs, t-shirts and shit. Lots of cool stuff to look at.

My shortlist for ass-kickings: Chief (you are like, SO dead.), Rose, Bridges, Floyd (and hell, any Nemo cretin for that matter), Coyle, Embry, Sherowski, Violette, Dabica, Morpheus, Baker and whoever else looks at me the wrong way. It’ll be a busy couple days. Lots of jaws to knock.

We fly out on Sunday afternoon.

- - - -

Melissa calls each day. Let just say this much, to clarify for all you wonderers and cacklin' chickens: “We’ve got a bad case of the Melissa’s.”

- - - -

Big deals from the freelance front: The COAL catalog is hot off the presses! Hell, the ink is still wet! The piece came out well, considering the pinch of a predicament we were in. Sean’s book is 20 pages from being wrapped up. Once that fucker is done, man, I’m gonna use those weekends for proper activities like junk shoppin’, relaxin’ and drinkin’.

- - - -

Things are going well. Funds are stable and we’re enjoying being “out of the red.” The pad is tidy. The laundry done. The freelance almost licked. “All in a week’s work.”

Don't Kurt My Feelings

K(h)urt Fredd-rikk-son:

(1) Has a lot to say.
(2) Has a lot of time on his hands.

For further information, click on the "comments" section below for some hot chatter from Kurt.

Little buddy, knock yerself out.

We Can Rest Easy

"It's good knowing he's out there.
 The Dude.
 Taking it easy for all us sinners."

–The Cowboy, from the "The Big Lebowski"

Dr. Martin Luther King Day

Remember Dr.King.

Things have been gettin' ugly with Nakamoto. That sonofabitch puts up a mean fight, on all issues general and complex. We settle all quarrels on the pong table. Earlier today, amidst a highly-volatile "Is it done yet" work environment, I looked him squarely in the eye and challenged him with a viper-tongued, "You wanna go? Well, put yer money where yer mouth is."

Two cutthroat battles ensued. I came out 40 bucks ahead. I mean, shit, the cat is from Reno, and we all know how shady that joint is. He's a gamblin' man, and we took him up on it. 20 clams a game.

"High Stakes Betting" on pong. A new low scoffed at by many, enjoyed by few.

(Editors Note: Battlefield bravado aside, we'd take a 5th color in the chops any fucking day for Nakamoto. )

Get a closer look into his world at: www.multifresh.com. Award winning work: Masterful homegrown photography and a typographic black belt.

Future Nakamoto-related Operations: A "Dudes" trip to Reno is planned for mid-February. Heads will roll.

Hell, He's Got That "Look"

I will be forever amazed by what this kid is up to these days.

Ben, listen up: Kick their asses and don't take any guff from nude I-talian supermodels. And while I'm doling out the advice: Be careful out there for fuck's sake, on the road and on the runway.

- - - -

This Ben Cooley doesn't have that "look." Not even close.

- - - -

The Sort of Town I Want To End Up In

I just finished watching the movie “Beautiful Girls” with Timothy Hutton and Uma Thurman. The movie was pretty good and all, a good story line, good characters…but, the best part, absolutely worth mentioning on this weblog, was the setting.

A little, sleepy Minnesota town. Frozen lake nearby, snowbanks, trucks with plows raised, frumpy coats with giant hoods, sorels, below zero air, etc.

That is exactly, goddamn exactly, the sort of town I want to end up in. Done.

Whole Bunch of Nothing

Not too much to report in the last couple of days. Enjoying a “somewhat regular” workload at Cinco, which has allowed me to get home each day by 6pm. That is the goal. Not so down with the late nights and weekend sessions.

Been wrapping up a lot of clandestine projects. Sean’s book is about 85% complete. Real excited to get the project finished up. Lots of excitement from all parties involved.

On the financial front: For the first time in a long, long time I have been able to actually save some money. With the culmination of my credit card drama, that clean slate has allowed me to reevaluate my budgets. Real tired of being in the red. Things are going really well in the DDC Loot Dept.

The weather has been nice. Cool, borderline crisp. Some nights I’ll be out cruising around and the temp will read, “49 degrees.” That is pretty reasonable, considering the polar conditions I fell in love with back in Minneapolis.

20! : Happy Birthday Weah Peah

20 years old. How about that. Made it through those teens, eh? Well, a warm "Happy Birthday" goes out to my little sister Leah back in mid Michigan.

She is a college girl at Central Michigan University. (Y'now, "Go Chips!") She's shacking up with Nate, a hearty, salt-of-the-earth Virginian. Man, he's a tall drink of water, and Jesus H. Christ, can that kid eat. They are a good team and are set up to do very well together. Best of luck.

(Pep Talk, Part 6: "You guys got a good thing goin'. Don't Blow It.")

And to think back, 20 years ago today, seeing that little meatloaf wrapped up so tight amongst the other babies in the viewing ward. A little angel. She was beaming. The rest of the critters paled in comparison. Little heathens. Leah was beautiful. Facts are stubborn things.

On a sentimental note: I'm coming to terms with the "scope of a 20 years stretch" today. I remember her birth like it was yesterday, and can chart what I felt then, and now. 20 years at a glance. Chokes me up a bit. My little teeny sister is 20 years old. Amazing. What an amazing run.

So Leah, here's to many more.... Happy Birthday from yer big brother out west.

Been Full Steam Ahead For Nine Days Straight

Friday. Thank god. Man, things have been busy. Basically, since I stepped foot off the plane from the Holidaze vacation, I've been working non-stop on the new Gravis Fall/Winter 2003 catalog. Straight through. We are a couple pages away from being done. The team has really come together on this one. Our formula for success: Lots of design clusterfucking and long hours. Phew.

Chi-cawgo!

I left Traverse City last Monday, heading south towards the Indiana border and up around to Chicago. I took M-37 all the way down, through Oswego, Newaygo and Baldwin (whoa, tough livin!) until it met up with the 96 which will take you down and around Gary connecting you to 80,90 and 94. Quite a hub. The traffic picks up substantially as you enter “Michiana.” ...that famous “no mans land” around the border area. Michiana is a dirty place. Thugs, fireworks, trailers, sadness, grit and cheap gas.

My time in Chicago was pretty interesting. I was there to meet up with friends from my tenure at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design. A reunion of sorts.

Highlights include:
01. Being in the city and the enormity of it all. The place is teeming with life. At times it seemed too big. Something to think about. Minneapolis is maybe a 1/8 of Chicago. That’s good. Portland maybe a 1/16. Portland is just right.
02. The amazing wealth of original “old-timey” signs adorning bars, flower shops and restaurants around the city. Masterpieces of homegrown typography. City treasures on par with skyscrapers, parks and landmarks.
03. Skyscrapers.
04. Being with everyone. Good folks with colorful idiosyncrasies. Lots of laughs. Lots of drama.
05. Seeing PJ, Ryno, Kaja, Adam, Maniotes, Berling, Zoe and Sarah.
06. Cheering in the new year at the local honky tonk bar. What a crowd.

- - - -

Bullshit: The phenomena known as “Group Dynamics.” Basically, whenever you arrange a bunch of fuckers (who all “enjoy each other’s company”) together “to have a good time” and things go awry. Fistfights, bouts of heavy-lipped pouting, mania, general chiding, etc. One minute everything is cool and the next, someone is fighting with their girlfriend or exchanging fisticuffs in the park. And god forbid someone doesn’t approve of the group plan… people are put on the spot, people ridiculed, etc. Fuck that shit. At some point, you got wise up and break away… or you get sucked in to the trouble. I almost strayed. Thanks to PJ for holding it all together.

- - - -

There was a lot of tough talk about fistfights and shit going down. Little did we know the prophetic nature of this banter...

------ THE ACCOUNT OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED -------

The altercation was avoidable.

All it took was one “Fuck You” delivered with force and stern diction.

We were getting off the EL train, hiking back to PJ’s flat to regroup and ready ourselves for the big night out. The sidewalk was tight, just enough room for two people coming from opposite directions to pass comfortably.

Our group had eight people in tow. The three gals were up ahead, I was carrying up the rear, and behind me, in the darkness, was the caboose: Andy Maniotes. We’re truckin’ back and proceeded to pass a couple of black kids. One was stout and thick. A good 50 pounds on me. The smaller was about 5’11, 160 pounds.

Just as they passed me, somewhere in between Andy and I, the smaller of the two yelled.

The outburst had a certain direction to it, which hit Andy perfectly from his vantage. I remember it sort of jarring me, and I was ahead of them. Andy was on his cellphone, and it shook him up a bit.

I hear some rambling, and turn around to catch Andy, rather heroically-stanced saying, “Fuck You.”

That was the big mistake.

Now the kids, either surprised or satisfied from the rise they provoked had a reason to double back. They were looking for trouble. They came up on us, and our group sort of clustered and began to chat with the guys, offering sentiments along the lines of, “Hey man, everything is cool.”

They wouldn’t hear any of it, mumbling to each other, “Let’s fuck him up.” “That motherfucker should watch his mouth.” And so on.

I remember looking over at Andy and seeing him take off his glasses, and how his accelerated breathing had a certain power to it.

Then Andy stopped and faced them. They came up. Andy said something about how they yelled in his ear and how he didn’t appreciate it or something.

That’s when the bigger of the two took a punch.

Andy took it well, obviously ready for it. It bounced off and Andy went for the smaller of the two. They wrestled and Andy got off a couple quick roundabouts, stunning the kid. That’s when the larger guy reached over the writhing mess and tried to strike. Andy would have none of it. He handled both of the guys, at one point, in between wallops saying, “Uh guys, a little help would be nice.”

(The sound of flesh and bone hitting flesh and bone is a nauseating sound. Take yer hand, make a fist, and forcefully hit the lower palm of your opposite hand, right above where the wrist meets the hand. Hear that “meaty thud?” That’s the sound of a man getting pummeled. No “slaps” or “pows” or “explosive movie sounds”… just meat and bone hitting meat and bone. Ugly.)

I remember it sounding funny and sad. And this was as the fight was going down. Fuckin’ insane.

I remember how Andy sounded, grunting with each punch… a set of squealing, hoarse, guttural noises. It was very primal.

I wanted nothing to do with any of it. All I could think of was, the next thing we’d be seeing was a gun waving around, or pointed in Andy’s face. You never know.

We broke up the fighters. The smaller of the two had tears streamin’ down his face. Andy landed a couple good ones on him and he was shook up. I pushed him back gently, saying, “Hey man, you alright,? Take it easy now.”

The larger guy scurried back into their courtyard towards some bushes. Visions of a gun or knife or rock flashed in my head.

Words were exchanged and we started back.

Basically, Andy shamed them. He handled both of them. Dangerous.

Thankfully, Andy came out unscathed, except for a small nick on his forehead, prob’ly from a jacket button or something.

It shouldn’t have happened. That is all there is to it. Whether or not they were fucking with us is beside the point. We were in their neighborhood. We were out of our element and that is no time for regulating of any sort.

It could have gotten really ugly. Thank god it didn’t. Andy just doesn’t take any shit, and that can be dangerous at times.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Another Memorable Visit For The Record Books

Let me start this entry with a heartfelt, teary-eyed thank you to my parents. I just spent the most amazing 10 days with them at their compound in Traverse City. Christmas spirit, family, friends, laughs, giant meals (oh man, those gargantuan meals!), and of course, a bunch of presents… so amazing.

I am very lucky to have them to go home to. The visit was a good chance to recharge. They kept me well-fed, well-rested and sorta well-bathed. I did a lot of relaxing, with ample time comatose in front of the tube and digging through old treasures. Good stuff.

Michigan Highlights:

01. I got to hold Bry and Tracey’s little Eva… every ounce of her six pounds of glory. A bond was cemented between us that is sure to last for ages.
02. Shopping with Campbell and his little Hannah. She’s comin’ up in the world just fine. He’s a good dad.
03. Christmas dinner. (Turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, stuffing, rolls… heaven.)
04. Mom and dad’s Christmas tree. Hands down, easily, the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen. Glorious.
05. Seeing Aunt Mary, Uncle Pat and Uncle Mike, and their respective families. Their little kids are growing up. Blows the mind.
06. Snow. There is nothing like a Michigan country field of white, with the tree line in the distance.
07. Derek and Alexis coming over for dinner. Dad made his infamous “Killer Pizza.” More news coming from these two in the future.
08. Shipping little Leah off to college life at Central Michigan University. She’s embarking on quite an adventure. All eyes on are on her. She is set to start up a successful academic career with her better half Nate (who, by the way, is also on the Draplindustries “You better not blow it” List) for the remainder of this school year. I wish them both the best of luck, on the school front, and on the boyfren/girlfren front. They are a good team.
09. General laughs and conversation with mom and dad. Priceless.
10. Chicago… oh man, a couple days in Chicago. A full report of the mayhem is in the works. Stay tuned. I’ll get it allout once things mellow out at Cinco.

I’m glad to be back. Portland is wet and cool. Cinco is busier than hell. Good team. Work is gonna get pretty intense as we settle into January. I’m up for the challenge.

Check back soon for a full blow-by-blow account of my Chicago stay.

Back For The Attack

Made it back... from yet another amazing vacation back to the Michigan homelands. Many yarns to spin, from regular 'ol stories of the human spirit to tales of street battle. Stay tuned.