Embrace

The room was round, startlingly. Math was there, a little out from the center, turning and examining the upper section. It was a balcony that ran around the whole room. Sun streaked down through holes in the ceiling, torching the floor in an illumination seeming of fire. Intricate tiles in the floor depicted gruesome war scenes from various eras that almost made him flinch. That was when he noticed there was someone else here.
In the shadow of a pillar, there was the outline of a man. The man had horns, he saw, and was hooven. Math could feel the hair on his neck begin to stand. In his stomach he felt a knot forming, threatening to force vomit to claw its way out. He swallowed. The demon was leaning against the pillar as if very weak, unmoving.
Math called out a warning, seemingly against his will, and the demon slinked to his hands and crawled towards him at a startling speed. Suddenly Math was face-to-face with a black/grey-skinned half-man, half goat. The face upon the demon was his own. The unreality of it struck him full-force and all at once, he was calm, as if viewing the whole scene from afar. The hair on the body was white and grey, the teeth yellowed and menacing. Yellow and green eyes stared into Math's own, unblinking, serious.
"What the fuck?" he blurted. With a snarl, the demon reached for his shoulder and brought him into an embrace. Math had not the strength to resist as he was drawn towards the floor with forceful strength. He struggled as he felt hot breath on his neck. Strong, black hands wrapped around his legs, his arms, trapping his movement. Math was panicking.
"That's right, fight me," came a whisper in his ear, "You are a fool." He couldn't control his fears as the calm that he had felt evaporated utterly to be replaced with a wild-eyed struggle. Tears filled his eyes and he was sobbing in great breaths.
After several minutes, he started to relax, breath coming hard. The demon was still, breathing, his hold not relenting. Math managed to say one word, "Why?"
He felt the grip soften, gradually become warm, comfortable, soothing. Soon he felt a longing and safety yet unknown, as the strength that had moments ago constrained him were now protecting him.
"I am the sum of your failure. I am stronger than your will, do not fight me." For minutes, the demon whispered these phrases into Math’s ear.
Math started to cry.
"I know your pain," whispered the protector, "I know your anguish."
Sun flowing over them, man and demon lay in an embrace upon the floor, dirt clinging to their tears.

~Am I a sick sombitch?
~J

The Sky Was Beautiful Tonight

I just jumped rope for about three minutes with my new jumprope and my arms feel like shoelaces. Man, am I glad I didn't get the weighted handled rope! I am seriously sweating as I type this. Wow. Also rode today, but it wasn't a great session. Didn't really get anywhere, just kind of took it easy. I worked hard all day and didn't have much left. I am hoping the jumprope will help me raise my energy level. I need it.

And thanks to everyone who read my story and let me know they were worried about me...by the way... if you think for a second that I am anywhere close to killing myself, please punch yourself in the face right now. I mean it, right fuckin now. You should all know that this is kinda how I write. it is meant to capture an emotion or a state of mind, not a cry for help. No church for me, no vitamins, no anti-depressants, etc. I'm a writer, not suicidal...unless it makes for writing!

~J

DNF

I moved around my apartment, tight with undirected emotion. It had me moving dishes and
pots through the kitchen, eating various foods and sitting intermitently in front of the
computer many times. The blinds were closed and the only light I had on was the hall light.
It lit the whole apt to some dgree, but let the shadows tease my dark mood. Unconsciously,
I was steering the emotions inside me towards a blacker notion, which is my tendancy.
Music was the flavor in my mouth, so I looked through my cds, but, of course, it is so much
easier to play them on the computer, where I have playlists inspired by the total amount of
depression which I can afford. "Drown," by the Smashing Pumpkins, "Four Walled World," by
Temple of the Dog, several songs by Finger Eleven, but the one that I come to so often is
"Seasons,' by Chris Cornell. That song drills into my center. I want that song to play in
the background when I am dying and I mean that.
Soon, I have the song on my computer, as though I had woken up that morning simply to hear
it. I sat down, not sure if I might cry. I can't really say that I wanted to, but I wanted
to release the tightness inside. Slowly, I examined my feeling. Methodically, I learned
what I already knew. Repetatively, I regurgitated this drumming pain.
Someday I will die, I know this. Someday my life will be over, I will cease to be. I will
no longer be able to feel sadness, happiness or eagerness. Yet, I am standing still as time
draws me through it towards tomorrow. As happy as I am with who I am, I am lonely with
myself. Uncontent to live with my failures, shortcomings and habits. Someday I will die
and I know that it will be right before I get it all right.
That's why I am pissed, and I mean that.

~J

Joe Session

Yes, hit Connestoga, today for a session with Joe. It was a good session for real. I hit a turbined hiker to swith-hand steam into a barflip and pulled it. I was stoked. I also did a turbined hiker through the steam and stepped through into a crackpack....which was kinda scary because I was still spinning. Toby got that one on the camera phone. The kids were great and I got to ride my ass off for four hours with the karma-kings, Joe and Sarge. I am figuring out the smoother wheel and skinnier tire, as well, so things are good. Next weekend, I am crashing at Papi's and riding till my ass is ashes. I also am hitting my hang-ten to half-packs pretty much consistantly...now I just need a follow-up combo or nifty exit...which I just might have, right Sarge?
~J

Ants All in a Row

I took the kids with me to Gubser school on sunday. We got out of the car, they got their skates on and I got my bike out. We rolled up to the covered area, where a girl and her mother or coach or someone were practicing her softball pitches. I rode and basically stayed out of the way. Within fifteen minutes, the area was filling with pre-pubescent girls and their parents, who were giving me funny looks. The Parents kept instructing the girls to move closer to me, and out of fear of hitting them, I kept moving away...but still riding. Soon, I heard, "Move over there, girls!" The next thing I knew, there was a softball flying over my head.

I got pissed.

I rolled over, throwing aggressive looks at a few of the "coaches" and loudly put my bike down, then put all the kids stuff in the car. They obviously thought they owned the fucking place and it was all I could do to be quiet. Subburbanites suck ass, plain and simple.

~J

Phone pictures

Ok, so I bought the cable that I needed to get pics and videos from my phone into my pc, here are a few.

My kids on their rollerblades.

Abby shows me her missing tooth.

Toby's such a HAM!!

Sarge spinning and avoiding the syringes at the Marion Park courts during a late night session.

Now I just have to figure out how to get the videos hosted and we'll be off and running!
~J

Passion

In the summer of 1988, I got a job at the cannery out on Madrona in S. Salem. I worked graveyard shift. I was 17 and this was my first job. I worked every night, six nights a week, eitght hours sorting beats on a conveyer. With my first check, I bought some parts for the bike I had ( I think it was a crappy Redline), but I hated that bike. It was easily five years old and had obviously been stolen many times. I had traded several bikes in the past year and each time I got a little better bike, but I hated that bike.
With my second check, I put $75 down on a Haro master. It was silver, black and chrome. If I remember right, the bike was about $425. Over the next few months, I paid it off. I never missed a day of work. It sucked. Then, one day, I got my check, went down and paid it off.
I went straight out to Bobby and John Bristol's house and rode all day. The next day, I called in sick to work and didn't go back except to get my check. Within a month, I had broken the frame, which Haro warranteed. They sent me a blue, black and chrome master. I broke that one within two months and they sent me a black, black and chrome one. I broke that one and Haro said that they had honored their warranty. I thought so too. I also knew I wasn't going to buy another one.
I bought a Diamondback Woody Itson signature frame. That frame was incredible. I broke the forks within two weeks, but the frame lasted quite awhile. With that frame, I turned expert in the NAFA, hit seven feet of air of the Bristol's halfpipe, learned to scuff, roll and power-roll (what we called all the two-footed tricks, like hitch-hikers), did hikers down the bike path at a scary speed, learned to street ride, including 12th street banks and the corner wall. Then, I met Woody Itson at a AFA freestyle contest. He was the nicest guy, though he obviously was not a top pro, anymore. He was still progressing, still learning and had nothing but good things to say about everyone. He talked about Kevin Jones as being the new school of flatland. I was impressed. Freestyle was changing at that time, and most of the pros were falling behind and on their way out. I broke the frame a little while later and the bike shop gave me another one. I broke that, too. They gave me a street frame, which I hated. I traded it for another (newer) master and turned pro in flatland. My first and only contest, I won. I wouldn't enter another contest for 8 years.
There were some of the best times in my life on those bikes. I mark my memories by the frame or parts I was using at the time. I never had a car, never had a job for very much longer than I needed to get the parts I wanted and I was happy. There is alot about those years that I miss. The freedom of being outside mainstream American society and not giving two shits what people thought. For a long time I was the best flatlander in Oregon and that made me proud. Bikes are a part of me. I raiese a toast to those long dead bikes of my youth...May you rust in Hell.
Now, I have my Fraction. This bike is by far the nicest bike I have had or probably ever will have. The days of living to support my bike are gone. The bike is low on the list. But I have managed to keep together a nice ride. Sometimes I STILL sit and look at my bike, just like I did when I was 15 years old. Without a flatland bike, I will not see the world in the same way. With one, I see the world from behind bars.
~J

Dong...Dong..Dong

Well, I got to ride for about an hour and a half, yesterday. It was a really lame session. I wasn't pulling anything, really. I wasn't feeling it. Then, just screwing around, I did a no-handed crack-pack. Trippy. Then I did a whiplash to juggler to steam to half-barflip to half-hike and pulled it. Man. Things are getting me down right now, I think it is showing in my riding. That's life, I guess. In a few weeks, I'll be back in my game.
~J

Blah-hahaha

Well, it is obvious that Sarge doesn't read my bog, anymore. He hasn't commented in a long time. It makes me sad.
~J

I was not Conquered

Justin did not win the war, only the battle. I will live to fight another day and fight I will. Winston Churchill said, " We shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender..." When we play HORSE, he's gonna be my bitch!!
~J

Let It Begin

Great weekend. I rode myself sore in more than a few places and I have needed a few days to recover. It seems that every time I drive somewhere to ride where Paul and Joe come with me, it is great. We are a little troop of flatland clowns. Joe only showed his crochety side a few times and even then, all I could do was smile. Paul was Mr. Mascualine all weekend, picking fights with drunks, intimidating the street punks and encouraging drunk women to tickle and punch his abdomen. I have this damned video phone and I rarely think to use it, which is stupid of me, since I could have had a nice little record of the shinnanigans that took place in and around Tacoma Washington. I am most bummed that Thomas didn't get his chance to "dissect my secular believe system" the way he wanted to. Oh, well, I'm sure I'll have it with me the next time we cross paths. Justin took second and Devin took third at the "contest," so I'm sure we'll never hear the end of it. I have taken a pro-active role by challenging Justin to a few rounds of HORSE the next time we get together to ride. Ought to be interesting in the extreme.
~J