Getting a grip – Graham via J. Michael Kelly

So Seafair is done. The sky is clear again. All the little city birds, and more range-y f-16s have departed. One winner stands alone. Graham Trucking’s driver J. Michael Kelly held his ground through the finals, and got her done.

I’m hearing complaints of a false start, and a watered down talent pool because of the Villwock and Shane kerfluffle on Saturday. I have to admit, I don’t care much about the complaints, since that’s a part of every great competition from NASCAR to World Cup. Even golf, tennis, and curling have oddball mix-ups that lead to questionable results. Maybe I just don’t like to dissect every last detail of events when my boat wins.

Regardless, the results are in, and life in my mom’s neighborhood will return to peace and tranquility once more. Was it last Thursday, that my Mom and I sat at Tutta Bella’s in the Columbia City neighborhood, eating delicious pistachio pizza and Napoli salad while the Graham boat was towed slowly up Rainier Avenue. I know for certain that was the moment that I picked my new favorite team.

The barricades and miles of fencing were in place, and the neighborhood was packed with the pre-event bustle. A moment before, I couldn’t decide if I was an Oberto fanboy for ol’ times sake, or if instead I’d be rooting for the boat that reminded me of my brother. And then she rolled by. And yesterday’s question faded from my lips, “O Miss Budweiser, where art thou now?”

I had a great time at a few little get-togethers, and am happy that the blue angels made their mark in our sky once more. The notable events were definitely meeting our neighbors for the first time, and realizing that one of their children won an award at my Lacrosse camp this Summer. Another nice shin-dig was this backyard party with a fire-pit, some breakdancing, and trips down to the water for late night swims. My favorite had to have been the secluded cheese and cracker porch-time with a few good friends, removed from but surrounded by grand spectacle.

There is no final thought, or morality in today’s post yet, and maybe there shouldn’t be. But for whatever reason, it’s sort of how I know my thoughts have come to a close. So here we are.

I love the blue angels. And I don’t care if it costs millions of dollars in gasoline and pollutes the airwaves and landscape when they come to town. For me, it’s a patriotic inspiration too valuable to pass up. The little boy in me screams with delight, and pretends he’s an ace for a day. I imagine all the youngsters out there thinking about what they want to be when they grow up, and I know they’ve seen a show of rare quality that took countless years of dedication to create. Well over 10,000 hours of giants standing on giants.

My position is definitely to take care of the Earth first, but in order to do that, I still believe we need to inspire the next generation to dream big, practice hard, and go for whatever sets a fire in their mind’s eye. The Blue Angels do it for me, as do space launches, fireworks, and bountiful food forests.

This idea might be forced in a little bit, but it is what’s on my mind. Take it or leave it; it’s meant for me, and, for you, only if you want it.

Peace & Love,

CHBP Mini-shred (A neighborhood review = Z:/£ not another music review)

Yesterday I went to the CHBP for the first time in at least 5 years. I wouldn’t want to start off on a negative note so I won’t. I had an amazing time. It was fantastic. I didn’t lose anything, I didn’t drink so much that I couldn’t skate home, I only spent $80 for the whole day, which is pretty good for a big event.

Now for a little negative. I stopped going years ago because it is pricey. I stopped going years ago because hip hop had really taken a nose dive, and I didn’t like trance-dancing to dubstep (now I do though O.o <=weird). I stopped going, and didn’t miss it because the crowds were way too much, only the first two rows of people danced, and for real though, I was just tapped-out on the f’n scene on Capitol Hill.

I love Seattle. It’s the heart of my art. It’s the soul of my shoes. It’s the cloud in my mind. But sometimes I just need to go to different neighborhoods, or I start to dislike the good things.

Ballard is probably my neighborhood of choice now. I will forever love Georgetown, but it’s a little sleepy for me (maybe I just haven’t fallen in with the right people there?). Fremont is sexy, but it’s not the center of the universe. The big bang is always out in Belltown. I need to explore the CD. I went to The Hop Shop with some friends the other day for the first time, and it was totally chill and reasonable. But for real, when I want a good time, I always go to Shorty’s. It takes me back to places I’ve only read about, like pre-french revolution coffee shops. It’s the place where people go to drink like sailors, play games, talk everything from music to politics to dogwalking, and even though it looks tough, I’ve never seen anyone not-get-in because they were being themselves, smiling, and acting friendly to strangers.

And this brings me back around to the CHBP and the following White Party (a pre-burning-party). I got 86’d from two places I wanted to be for dancing too hard. I didn’t crash into anyone. I did fall over once or twice, but I didn’t make a mess or do any damage to myself or others. And yet, it took the bouncers all of 20 seconds to decide I was wasted, and not just pushing my limits. Two of the other bouncers actually apologized to me for having to 86 me, and quickly retrieved my items from coat check for me. One of them said that he thought it was so they could let more people in and get more money, since they already had mine.

In the end, I’m fine with the whole experience. I had a great skate home on a beautiful night. Or at least as great a skate as is possible in Seattle these days. This city, actually, maybe the whole world is prejudiced against skateboarders. I make the joke, Cyclists hate Cars, Cars hate Cyclists, Pedestrians fear both, but everyone loves Pedestrians (in Seattle that is), and nobody likes a skateboarder except another skateboarder, and skateboarders act like they don’t like anybody. But it’s just a front. It’s not a comment on logic, and it’s not to be taken seriously. Depending on people’s reaction to the joke, I can usually tell if they are in a good mood or not. There’s a lot of ways to disagree or agree with those statements.

Peace and love Seattle,

And a big middle finger to Chris the bouncer at the White Party who sent me packing before I was ready. I don’t think I’ll hurt his feelings saying that; he seems tough enough. But he obviously doesn’t go to festivals, or know how to breakdance, and he better not buy a skateboard. Punk ass ho. JK.

❤ #Seattle #Skate #Ballard