I’m spending most of my summer in Government Camp—no I have not joined the army—Government Camp is an unincorporated community south of Mount Hood, with a population of 193 people. It’s a calm place, for the most part; hosting a couple local bars, an ice cream shop, a couple ski shops, a couple cafés, and an all night dinner; there is no police station or fire station and, when not filled with snowboarders, it’s probably an egoless place…All the basic amenities for a surreal feeling community are met. I’m excited to be spending a summer here: to be a constant in such a transient ski and snowboard community.
When I dip you dip we dip
Here is an interview segment my friend Dale and I have started. Our first guest was Craig McMorris—brother of Canadian Olympic competitor and bronze medalist, Mark McMorris. Craig is hilarious and a really solid guy, like Onyx solid.
Converse with God.
Sooo, a couple months ago I was in the Portland area riding Super Park. It was a blast, yada-yada, fun-time, yada-yada, but this, I think, is where my real, raw, un-nurtured and unhindered talent rests:
Go Fuck Thy Self!
That everyone should hear:
The pompous prick,
The arrogant teacher,
The humble servant;
Not because controversy
Is a good thing
Or because there is
Not enough hate
In the world.
But, because the phrase is
When coming from
A loving heart, that is—
Being told to
Go Fuck Thy Self!
Is like your BFF
In an empty hallway—
Mixed with a hard harsh
Slap from reality;
You have to change
You have too
Get your shit together.
I’m into philosophically thinking
like you are into Yoga
or how your dad is into that Sofa
It consumes me
like a blind man on a colour hunt.
I work so hard I’m sweaty.
I dig deep
(deeper than your dad in that Sofa).
but as time persists I grab what’s cheap:
a bottle of vodka.
I remove its crown
unlike philosophy, it’s smooth when it goes down.
I stood blocking the doorway, not on purpose, not consciously, but regardless—I stood blocking the doorway. She approached me, delicately, quaintly, shyly, and when she noticed me, she said, “move please.” I replied: “Ok.”
We locked eyes. She had gorgeous green eyes, greener than a hippie’s heart. “Well then, aren’t you going to move?” She peered at me with a puzzled and slightly aggravated look on her face. “I did,” I respond. “What do you mean, you did?” “I did move. You didn’t hear it? ”Her aggravated and puzzled face turned into a slightly more confused and less aggravated face. “I had a bowel movement,” I said—while still staring into her gorgeous green eyes—“A what?” She responded. “I farted,” I said. Her eyes narrowed and the gorgeous green turned to black. That’s disgusting you weirdo!” and with that, she aggressively shoved her soft, skinny, forearm into my skinny, standard feeling shoulder and stormed by. “Sorry…” I said.
It was an awkward moment, but also a blissful one. Even the destructive and ghastly fart, which if were visible, I swear, would have been just as beautiful as her gorgeous green eyes.
Who knew he could canoe? Well, I guess I did; he can also take photos!
Me: Meditation is just an excuse to be lazy.
Alex: No it’s not! I’d like to hear you say that to Buddha.
Me: Allll right, maybe it’s not. But it does seem like a great way to get out of work: “uh, excuse me, I need to go meditate. Back in 20.”
Alex: You shouldn’t talk about things when you know nothing about them.
Me: Well then, you shouldn’t talk about knowing nothing, because you obliviously know something… Meditate on that!
Alex: Screw you.