Behold! It is I – & I am It. I am there (well, I was there) & look! I’m on the other side of the monitor now! It’s that guy, & he’s at Burning Man™ out there on that playa thing with his silly bike. Silly bikes don’t get stolen, according to my theory. That’s a kid’s BMX bike I bought for Zerek in Santa Rosa California when he was like 10 years old. It came to Roswell with us. Zerek rode it here once maybe twice, had a dramatic encounter with a strand of barbed wire & a lot of goatheads/puncture weeds near the mall. Then it sat out in our 5 acre yard northeast of town for 10 years or so, through rain, snow, dust, wind & high levels of ultraviolet radiation.
The extended seat post is a chromed clothes pole for a store, that happened to fit into the right orifices. It hasn’t failed yet, but it will, it’s already starting to go, I’m still in denial.
The seat is from an old 3-speed from Bakersfield in the 50s. Really. It was my brother’s bike that ended up being mine. The seat is still here & functioning, a little frayed around the edges but unbelievably still retaining its basic structural integrity. Weird. I mean, it’s not as if plastics were better back then. Or were they? I don’t think so.
That’s my brand new Tilley™ hemp hat; my Toon Glasses – my own creation (I got the idea from Greg Duncan years ago); my necklace made from the stubs of Dixon Ticonderoga™ Number 2 pencils that I killed drawing Cherry Comics; & my cop swat team boots that I got online from Galls™.
Notice the fresh gash in the leg from a rebar tent stake that I had just pounded in.
This was probably not too long after I had returned from the Summer Of Love Camp & decided to dismount while the bike was still rolling & did so quite gracelessly in an awkward pirouette that concluded with my going right over into the dust on my left side, scuffing up my elbows & knees some & doing something to something in my upper chest which I took to be a pulled muscle. A week later, after returning home I realized that it was actually a cracked rib. A few days after that I figured out that it was the rib that I had already cracked while trying unsuccessfully the 1st time to install that big Signs Of Life sign at this location.
Here’s some but not all of the Stag Camp campers.
This was my gift. Well, one of them, anyway. It’s a cut vinyl sticker about an inch & a half or 2 inches across. It’s the Green Man, I say. It’s the Corporate Green Man. It’s ironic, ’cause it’s vinyl & vinyl ain’t green. Everybody who received one or more liked it/them, or seemed to at any rate.