Friday, July 31, 2009

the library

it was awesome! but ride before i walked in the door, a man rode his bike straight into a pillar and looked like he really hurt himself. i ran over there and said "sir, are you ok" but he just kept moaning, he was really really hairy. then i said "do you want me to call someone?" he said no he just needed to lay there for a minute, i said ok, ill stand your bike up over here, he said ok. then i said "would you like me to help you up?" he put out his hand as i helped him up he said
"like my neurologist said, wear a helmet, you are a good man for stopping, thanks a lot" i said "sure"
then in the library i made several copies of my resume and letter of recomendation. and i was really quiet. it was really cool.

here is a picture of amanda and nicole on the bus earlier this morning

going to a library today

i am very excited to go to a library because i love quiet places!
it will probably bring back some memz though. ha memz. that means memories. i will spare you the deets.

anyway i miss my bike more and more each day
this video looks a lot like what alaska riding looks like, if i were riding. the greenery reminds me of here and the lot they are doing tricks in, there are tons of sweet spots to ride here!!! soon i will get a bike!

Thursday, July 30, 2009

cool thing

ok ya this is really cool, thanks mike.


i live in alaska. so far im not impressesed. but i think a big part of it is riding the bus everyday and not knowing anyone else. people on the bus arent very welcoming. it also hasnt stopped raining yet. well once it did. basically i really am homesick and i miss a special someone and it makes me cry. but i talk to her daily which helps a great deal. i have no job. im running out of money. i dont care. everything will work out.


Wednesday, July 29, 2009


i love this.


Keo Curry's Macaframa section. hes very good. i miss my bike.

Saturday, July 18, 2009


i have no idea how to prepare to move. i dont like this feeling but i think when i get on the plane i will feel less worried. maybe.

Friday, July 17, 2009

ed wonka

is by far my favorite rider in fixed-gear freestyle and this video shows why, and it also makes me want to play polo again. i heard the bike scene is awesome in anchorage wioth huge polo turnouts. i hope it is true.

Thursday, July 16, 2009


i have a lot of pictures that id like to show you. bnut ill probably just post a few every once in awhile because it take a long time.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009


somewhere in this state of darkened bliss, i find one moment in time where it all slows down like a car crash and we prosper from life. when the speed rapidly increases again, it is obvious that only in dreams are we free of worry.
flesh is ripped from your bones like the old gum on the fucking life is soo good
this is my first blog and it is claytond fault
but zak paintes all his keyboaed keus black so you cant read what keyyer they arw

sept 14th 07

stare blanklyinto dark passages of electricity
he tries to walk to the museum but the screaming trumpeteers keep him alert and ready for anything. he stops walking. starts dancing. stops, he is scared, uncertain of what is next.he takes his sandals off and throws them into the woods. he sips his coffee, catches THEE groove, and begins jogging to the rythym of his heart.he smiles and laughs. he has'nt a care in the world. snap, crap, abortion clap, board of directors will smile at dwarf people who check out books on health and growth. excersize my oddyssey with the people i saw and the people i see. court case ,leatherface. pictures have been mushed and multiplied andbecome more like mashed potatoes than actual thoughts. your fears come true and your love dies and your family ties fly away like flies.

sept. 14th 07

The room was a torture chamber. It was completely spotless -- the metal
instruments glistened against the light, they almost looked sterile -- but it
was filled with the most horrible instruments of torture she had ever seen. And
her terror was well planned -- Tortura, being well versed in the psychological
modes of torture as well as the physical, knew full well what the first sight of
this room would do to Kimberly. And the sight of Tortura himself, checking the
implements of pain, sent pure terror through her.

Tortura walked to Kimberly and looked her over. "Remove her clothes," he
ordered, and the Putties quickly tore the clothes from Kimberly's body. They
also removed her shoes and all her jewelry. Her hair had been tied back, but
they removed the band and it now hung freely. Kimberly was naked before she even
had a chance to gasp, and she wished desperately that she could cover her
nudity. She could feel the cold floor under her bare feet.

Tortura motioned to a chain hanging from the ceiling. "Tie her here," he said,
and the Putties dragged Kimberly into the center of the room and tied her arms
over her head to the chain from the ceiling. Kimberly was bound from the
ceiling, and had to raise slightly onto the balls of her bare feet in order to
relieve the pressure that was building on her arms.

When she looked up, she saw that Tortura was standing right in front of her. He
put out his hands and cupped Kimberly's firm breasts and began to fondle them.
He tweaked her nipples with his thumbs as he squeezed her breasts. Kimberly was
overwhelmed with shame and terror and turned her head away.

oct. 8th 07

wolves came running over to him everytime he cried.
he ripped out thier eyes and swept up the mess, the flow was coming and the bass was humming. his old grey eyes and prickly beard could be seen by only the most observant onlookers. he continued to spread apart his legs until they snapped and he was in two peices. the girl with beautiful features came, she sang him a song and he cried for her to stop but she would not. she took a hammer to the old mans skull, now helpless, he cried no more. the air was calm, the grass was red. she was still singing.


i wonder, are you thinking what im thinking, while im strapping your limbs to the bed posts only to drain you of your blood?
or are you thinking something totally different?
the people who think they are closest to me are the ones who are furthest. the margins of sanity blur into night
and who is who becomes a horrible game. your smile is crooked and brings an awful burning, flickering within my gut.
but soon i will go against what awaits me and the teeth will grind so hard they break
can you help me? take a picture before i cover this in paint

may 1st 2007

in the room of petting and rocking we sit and write the nicest obituaries, the principle of the matter is that one day you will make no sense and you will be fine with it. as blood drips from your elbows and you hold the stance of a true lover, crying with anticipation of pain and pleasure. so much beauty overflows her mind, even when you think she is uncomfortable, that is when she is making the best memories. hold on to your friends dearly and when the emotion fades away, dont hesitate to rip it back into action. people dont agree with you but in the long run, they dont care about you. -Anthony Elsewhere Riskey

There was a vapid heat that rises from the stench of the dead. We lay solemnly prodding at our heads. I remembered the days when you were scared and the days when you were tired. You came home with your wrists sewen together, thin threads done with brash needles. I carved you a seat from the wax of our walls and served you my palm as though it were a basket of fruit. You held your breath and I watched the smoke leave your eyes. A purley paled pupil lay idle on my floors as I scratched at my roots and bleed my seeds from the bowels. Your last life was spent whispering and I heard it in the back of my mind. It was the chilling tongue of a widow's remorse. The lines were drawn and then they fade in greys, porcelin, and alabaster ghost. - Clayton Endless Shaul


so i walked into a disco club last night
and holy shit, lemme tell ya.
i saw this man, this dream. he was the dream of a barnacle. all the barnacle wanted was to become human. he was ugly, so i took him home and my mutha kissed him. now hes a prince barnacle. bonnie 'prince' barnacle
as i marched through the party, i wonder who the host was, who's house i was in, and if i was even welcome. the blood in my viens was replaced by whiskey and my heart pumped it throughout by body, i could not stop dancing. i no longer cared if i was welcome, people who stared and laughed at me and tried to get me to leave recieved a heavy blow to the skull from the chair named my dancing partner. i rocked out all night, it was pretty shitty music too, but who cares, right?


the small child would follow the bird. small black birds. he was noticing the thin air and the smell of blood. the smell of pennies. there was an old man with a can in his hand. the man was always drunk and horny. then the child's life began to be just like a wild animal's. he became wild and carnal and he could only talk in one tone and displayed no emotion. he was extremely unkind and grotesque.
he gave birth to an unloving beast. the beast was sneaky. the boy was busy picking old pieces of food out of his teeth one morning which allowed for the beast to easily walk up right behind the boy and insert his fist deep into the boy. the boy howled in pain and the beast showed his teeth with a grin caused only by lust. the boy looked up to see the town was now filled with people. the people were shocked at the sight of the violated young boy. but still no one had the thought to help. the boy then noticed hundreds of beasts. one beast coming up behind every man and woman and child standing there in the town. and then, in one second, all together, evey person in the town struck the boy over and over again. the boy knew that this would happen sooner or later. the boy knew that all he had to do was hold his breath.

these are all so dumb

running faster and faster from something you think might be there. just wait, please. cover yourself in vaseline and thrust your body in front of that bus. you are an Icon. tonight you shall prove it, make them listen to you, slice of their noses and tie them down and tell them not to laugh or cry or emote. smash the light out, slam your feet on the concrete, smack your jaw with the glittering ladybug wand, submerge your body in the dirty water. two people stand up to disagree, show them the true color of blood. its the perfect time to plant your unwelcome yet promised seed. this is it. this is her time. let it rush.learn to do things that left hand for a change. the looks on the faces are brilliant. you cant stop smiling. good job


It was time to say "goodbye". She knew that when she left she would have to unwillingly surrender to borebom. The unbearable ennui came quicker than expected, although an ironic rush seemed to electrify her, pleasantly matching her blank mind. In that very instant, she felt that her guts might melt right out of her pussy and drip down her thighs to rest in a puddle of her own gore. She now missed the simple comfort she always felt in the driver's seat of her small car. She missed sitting there and watching the pavement unfurl beneath her tires like a ribbon of thick, black coffee. Instead today she rode a greyhound to the north. She planned to fall asleep on the bus and hoped to wake only when very far away from home. She always thought about how people fantasized about packing up all their shit and leaving for no good reason, but people never actually did that until they needed to. This was her attempt to win the race and leave her life behind, before she needed to. She had no plans.


when you turn around to see me
be sure to find me quick and stab my heart as fast as you can before i run too far away from this planet. my feet are sore and my gums have grown all the way over my teeth. i now taste my own blood when attempting to eat anything. i lay in bed and drool a crimson flood on the white sheets. the three hooded beings crept over my chest and up my limp neck, dragging knuckles like gorillas and trotting to some evil tune which produced no sound to any ears of mine. the mini soldier-like men tied there tiny ropes onto my eyelids and ripped and ripped. i heard my own eyelids rip off with a kind of "snap" sound, followed by a thick, yellowish puss that stung my eyes. as soon as my eyes adjusted to their new environment, a life without any options or protection, they spotted the three twisted, tiny men who had just become lid thieves and my right hand was formed into a fist before it was raised off the table. my fist took one powerful slam onto the three amigos and crushed them like spiders.

myspace re-up

Your Father is the maggot with the yellow pants and my fish is tender but the lake is frozen. I’m shopping at the store in your womb, burning leather and bleaching my wife. My haircut is running from the teacher’s crisp. Our ears are releated by blood and as the world turns to mud and forever starts to end, my finger curls around your throat. Saliva pours from your lavender swingset and Rick’s knees have snapped!!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

i love it. and i love cutting my toenails to this song

Fucking awesome

Fixed-gear Freestyle is noticed in the new york times, Peel Sessions will continue. prolly is the man

go here to read about it
go here to listen to john talk about peel sessions

i missed the full moon?

paul felt as if he was floating. it was nice. it was the perfect time to drift off to sleep but he could not stop thinking. thinking about the girl from the gas station. he had never seen such pulchritude. he had wobbled intothe station in a snit, something was wrong with the pump! she lifted her head and time stood still for paul. she made him feel like a ninja.he figured that these feelings were probably so strong due to his extreme lack of recent human contact. he wassheltering himself in an old cabin for the winter to do some thinking and heavy drinking. so far it had been very, very beneficial for paul but recently he was starting to miss the daily sodality he came across living in town.


as he came into the room, his eyes raced and the static sporadicly lit up his every thought.he was mentally tied down, trying to pause the buzzing of mosquitos flying in and out out of his bloodied nostrils. a strange man started preaching to him. he was losing his sanity. he knew no good from evil, love was hate and hate was love. he looked over at his companion, now covered in bells, gentle high pitched bells. her face showed no emotion as her arms flailed about, hitting the bells together. she was in love with him and he knew that as long as he heard those bells, she would be there. just staring at him, unflagging in her noisy beauty. he also knew that the lighting of the room would be crucial to the feeling of any emotion whatsoever.

he cried and cried, knowing he was afraid of confrontation. he was being ripped apart on the inside but was always to weak to tell anyone. bloodshed and lovely rigidness had aged his body and was ready to retire. he had been through a million doors, each one twisting and turning asnd only leading more fucking doors. despite the abundance of everything he would ever need, he had always wanted what we could.nt have. the bells. the bells were gone. the woman was gone. he panicked and ran from room to room but found nothing. it was so very cold that he began to shake.

he entered the last room he knew of, feeling cold as a starfish. there was his woman friend tied to a post. naked of her bells and clothing, wearing only a pair of cheap party socks. he had not even begun the procedure when the door burst open behind him. 3 young girls came in and began cleaning his tools. he turned on some music and groped the girls to the beat as they cleaned.

Monday, July 6, 2009


i live at ians house. i am insane. crazy things happen daily. hahahahahahahahaha spagehtti