I’m addicted to what I think makes sense to call skurfing 😭 (or “street surfing”?). a @boostedboards mini x w 20mph motor drilled to a beater surfboard - KEY - the foam between them. the foam creates a softer lean for groovier/snowier/waterier carves. 😂. #muchtoobro but regardless. freeway off ramps are incredible. don’t do any of this btw. but if you do, let’s crew.
10 years?? Here’s some of the story: it’s been an incredible journey. I know everybody fucking says that but it’s been an incredible journey. I started making the demos for that album three years before 10 years ago, but I remember the whole time thinking “the band that will be this band (which is not yet a band and who’s faces I don’t yet all know) is an important movement”. I don’t know that I would call it “important“ publicly, (although I just did), but privately (now publicly) that’s what I thought. The way it came together was super natural. Heath Ledger was going to put out the album. A lot of people don’t know that about our history, but Heath was our magic man. After he died I shit you not he started explicitly guiding me, postmortem, to find bandmembers, to buy the bus, to try to start a label myself, etc. (more on the magic of Heath at another time)... You see, when I was making the demos I was imagining a 13 piece band - I would do the trumpet parts with the kazoo and I would fix the “hey” gang vocals by recording myself over and over until I could feel this imaginary crew around me... (Much later my mother showed me the first thing I wrote by myself, age 7 or so, which started “once there was a boy with a big strong crew“ - I’d been after the concept for some time). And then one by one the crew started to assemble itself. Christian, who I had known since I was three years old, would come over to the tiny little apartment and play some guitar. Stewart, who says when I met him I was entirely disinterested until he said “you know I play trumpet”. Jade, my best friend over those summers, who popped up suddenly and shouted “gimme the mic!” and laid down “Alabama, Arkansas” in a flurry over my yet-unnamed track. Aaron and Nico, Embry and Tay and Josh and Anna and Bryan and Nora and Crash and Orpheo, all of whom joined in one auspicious way or another (I’ve just discovered for the first time that Instagram does have a word limit!) The crew formed. It hasn’t been all roses, the stress of the journey cracked us fissures. But it’s been largely glorious - I’m fucking grateful to the many crew - and YOU who joined us for the ride. TO THE YEARS TO COME
Hands Up ill be your mirror rn
...a break from editing ...while the cups were on my back I travelled back in time. my 19 year-old self, quivering in the far corner of a dark viewing room. on the screen glittered a replica of his/my first love, black and white failure, cinema grande. she the first dream to break. the crack in the glaze. the whispering glitches. who can trust themselves again? not I. so I grabbed his/my hand and looked deep into his/my eyes and said (with my eyes) “it’s ok”... no, that’s not what I said...I now forget what I said...I did embrace him/me and it was absolving of something. then I realized what it was I was supposed to - the first disillusionment is the only disillusionment. santa clause, first break up, something far more awful, doesn’t matter. disillusionment happens once in your life. after that it’s merely disappointment. you no longer soar to such ignorant heights. you are educated and, so, pessimistic and wise! But I don’t want to be wise...I want to be disillusioned again. I want to be capable of disillusionment - but first, the earnest heights.
on the set of king killer w my girl
Environment is important. Mine I love most as so. (And so does it). A poem for my studio’s rosy cheeks: it now flexes in naked assurance of her essence and purpose, and I blush at my reluctance to her glory: She is (I can no longer put off) one creation’s fabled hosts.
last night I surfed the streets. going out again tonight.
wrote a song called gold. 🧠👮‍♀️
No filter son

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TOMORROW ATTN: from Alex Ebert (aka Edward Sharpe)
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