Message in a Bottle.

[ I find myself writing to people who don’t exist anymore or people who are no longer in my life. I personally have been fighting this letter for several years. Mostly I resisted for lack of support. People were tired of hearing about my tragedy, of my beloved wife. All I wanted was for someone to let me rant and rave about it at length and often. Times are hard these days and I find myself missing her and the days of old. I guess I’m trying to say is love all your people for what they are worth, they may not be there forever. I have learned this lesson and continue to pay for it daily.}

Shelly,

It’s been years since we were born. It’s been years since I have seen you last. I find myself wondering where you are or how you have been. I wonder how the world looks from your balcony. Does the sun shine as bright? Does the night sky hold wonder and dreams for you?

I wonder if you think of me. I know we think of you, our son and me. I remember being all we had. I remember the nights sitting up talking till the sun rose. I remember walking all over town with you under the night sky, hand in hand. I remember twenty dollars in spare change feeding us. I remember being together in my parents’ house. I remember living with you in my apartment.

I remember staring up in the Iraqi night sky wishing I was home with you. I remember telling all my fellow soldiers about you. I remember spending all my free time at the computer center to talk to you. I remember dreaming of returning to you. I remember the relief I felt marching into your arms after arriving home.

Mostly I remember loving you. Yeah my life has changed but I still miss talking to you. I remember the time you came to my work in the middle of the night just to talk to me. I remember visiting you at your work after leaving my work to spend your break with you. God I wish I could remember what you look like. The pictures in my mind have faded away to the ghost of memory.

I tell friends, lovers and our son about you. Nothing bad, just memories. I think I smile while I tell them. Now days I walk home alone with you.

I have been waiting for years to tell you that I love you and that I miss you but I don’t know where you are or how to reach you. I suppose this letter on my site is the equivalent of putting a message in a bottle. Feeling hope and doubt at the same time, standing on the shore watching the message drift off with the tide. Wondering, “will she read it?”; “will the bottle find her?” Hoping that the bottle will find her well, Dreaming of the tides guiding the bottle in the silvery moonlight to a distant shore. I wonder if someone else finds it will they keep it or read it and return it to the sea?

Well Michelle here is my message on my bottle; I love you! I miss you! Wherever you are, whatever you are doing I hope you find this and it finds you well. I wish it could be different but it won’t be different. It’s so hard here without you. I miss you…

I have visions of myself sitting in the loaders hatch of my tank under a night desert sky, with a bright silver moon hanging low. Staring at the distance I place this note in a bottle and pitch it over board as the tank starts to roll off towards the horizon.

-B

Death of a Gun Salesmen

[This is a true story]

[So a lots goin on these days with my son and my X-wife.  I found out that my X is questioning my son in an attempt to use his answers against me in court. I personally find it shoddy and unfair to my son. Despite all that I still find myself telling stories of my old family. I had to finally sit down and tell my son what was going on between us, stopping short of telling him why we are divorced. It was difficult on my son and me. Despite the hard times and anguish I still find myself telling stories about us.

This particular story I found myself telling to an audience at Sully’s high class wedding. To my amazement it kept people on the edge of their seats. This particular story is one of the most vivid memories of my divorce; I remember it like it happened yesterday. Everyone at the wedding enjoyed it and I for one hope you do too…]

I personally have been pretty damn sure that I was going to die before. Having served two tours in the Iraqi war in a tank had provided several near death experiences for me. That particular day in the gun shop was no different.

It was several months into my divorce and fully into the transformation of my wife. She had cut all her beautiful hair off and began dressing like a boy. I was still very much upset with the way events had -unfolded. To tell you the truth I think she was as well. I had my good days, a lot of days I was my usual non-sense spouting, gun selling fool. Other days I was less than optimistic about anything.

That particular day I was at my best. I was the assistant manager at a local gun shop and the manager was off that day. So we were blasting music and having a good time at work. The store had received a shipment that needed to be put on the shelves. I took on the task leaving Gordo and Lou-dawg to take care of customers while I worked.

I was happily in a far corner by the door unloading, pricing and shelving holsters listening to both the employees yell and pick on each other, in short I was thinking to myself “What a damn good day!” thankful that I wasn’t depressed that day. I then reached into the bottom of a deep box to recover product, my entire upper torso in the box when above Lou-dawg and Gordo’s banter I heard the tell- tale elk call door chime. Thinking I had both of the guys to cover me and service the customer I continued to remain half way in the box. As I continued grabbing items I began to notice that I could not hear talking anymore. Now if you are a parent you know that the first sign of trouble is quiet. To further the problem my back was to the door, and that’s just a bad combo. So I ripped myself out of the box and spun on my heels…

I gotta admit, I was prepared for a lot of things to be in front of me when I spun around. I however was not prepared to see my X-wife standing by the door. I had all kinds of sirens and alarms blaring in my head. My eyes shifted to the counter to her left and I saw an open mouthed Lou-dawg staring at her back in shock, Gordo standing by the back wall shacked as well staring. Everyone was in a state of shock.

She stood there staring at me, slightly bladed to the left. Her eyes never left me, I don’t even think she was blinking. She had an expression of stone and I thought to myself “Oh my God! This is it! It’s going down now!”  My mind began to race with the thoughts that my X had come to kill me.

I then realized that I was trapped, literally cornered. I was in a small box like corner and she had my only way out. “Holy shit she’s here to kill me!” flashed through my mind. As panic began creeping up I began to look for her hands to see if she had a weapon. At the shop we were all armed with firearms, I was wearing an M9 in an open top scabbard. I noted the fact that I was armed but to tell the truth the weapon was the farthest thing from my mind. I realized that whatever she did, I would let it happen, I could not, would not stop her. Slowly my hands began to raise palms towards her and I realized that I could not talk. I was convinced that I was a dead man, that the woman I loved, that had broken my heart had come back to take my life. Game over man! Game over!

Just when I thought I was done for, her face suddenly softened and instead of drawing a weapon and leaping at me, she began to cry. She held out her hands and walked up to hug me. She threw her arms around me and hugged me despite my hands being up. I stood there being embraced by my X-wife in a state of utter disbelief…

Time comes and goes, if things don’t stay the same then they will change. What happened that day is one of the last markers I have in time of my beloved Shelly. Things are way different now. Hell we don’t even speak anymore as she harbors some kind of resentment for me. She had changed and become someone else leaving me a Ghost of Memory. I will never know why she came that day or any of the other days she sought me out. These days I have made a kind of truce with what has happened and I will continue telling these fond memories…

-B

Penetrating Fortress

[This is a true story]

[“There’s no art to the soul through the face of a man…” said King Duncan, ironically right before his right hand man murdered him. When I was a young student in Chinese kenpo I hated doing Forms or Sets/kata’s. Katas/Forms/Sets are the “dance” that a lot of people think of when you mention karate. They were invented when a Sensei or Instructor couldn’t get students to practice so Forms were invented to be able to practice your art without a partner. Performing one you fought against imaginary opponents in a sequence that resembles a dance. I believed them to be boring and would rather be doing fighting or techniques believing them to be more important. Seeing David perform his Shotokan Katas made me realize I was wrong. Any fool can punch and kick, but doing a form or kata will show what you put into your art. It’s a total expression of self. I firmly believe if you want to see into a soul, watch them perform their favorite kata.]

Dave’s loud voice brought my mind back abruptly from its recent trip to mars. I had been seated in the bleachers at the Dojo that were put by the door. All my attention had been returned to my “brother” now lunging, punching and kicking across the floor. He had been going to the Japanese Karate Associations Dojo for a lot longer than I can recall. David would be there at least an hour a day training and that was beside the time that we trained every night.

David was performing one of his favorites at the time. The form, kata or set of moves is called “Bassai Dai” or in English “Penetrating Fortress”. To watch anyone perform it the kata would appear to be controlled chaos. Blocks in all directions, kicks in combination, elbows and lots of movement.  To me it seemed to portray a solitary fighter in an enemy’s lair fighting his way out against overwhelming odds.

The wooden floor thumped sharply as Dave now lunged and punched. His Kiai bounced off the walls around the room. Watching him pour all his concentration into the kata and outward his effort would flow. To see David perform was like watching a fast stream of water flowing.

As the kata continued I began to see the opponents that he was fighting. First the figures were faint and transparent, but as He went on they became solid, shadowlike people. I continued watching as David fought his way through the enemies, no longer looking at the damage being dealt to opponents but looking at him. I began to be able to see inside Dave.

I saw his calm, I saw his courage and above all I saw the bull-headed determination or better known as stubbornness. I saw that he would attack and defend with all and if he lost he would be gnawing on your ankle before he quit. Later on in life I would meet a 1^st Sgt. That would tell me that “you don’t rise to a situation, you sink to your highest level of training…” and I would remember David calm and collected facing a multitude of enemies.

Dave finished the form ending on the spot he started. The circle now complete he stood calmly as if deep in thought or reflection. I have heard of his sensei telling the class that after a kata was completed that before bowing out you should reach a “happy place”. He told them it was as simple as standing there calmly [pretending] or to picture a relaxing place to be like a brook, or a snowy scene. I really believe Dave was trying to accomplish this as he seemed very at peace.

When David opened his eyes, he appeared to not know where he was for a second. After discovering he was still here, he smiled at his mother and me for a second before returning to the wall to wait for the other students to finish. After all the other students finished the class re-stated their oaths known as the Dojo Kun.  Then they all changed their Gi’s for street clothes and bowed out of the Dojo. We three piled back in the car for the drive home. The Normal “Cartoon” antics of David and me resumed.

The Martial Ways have been a big part of my family’s life. At some point most of us have studied some type of combative or another. For me, Empty hand and Weapons hold a large part of my life surpassed only by my son. There isn’t a time when I am not practicing in some form or another. I know Dave still walks the path and we will continue to walk it till our days end.

Many years have passed and I have had a lot of time to reflect. Bassai-dai or penetrating fortress is a Kata representing a lone warrior taking the fight to the enemy and plunging deep into his ranks. I wonder that if that day he performed that kata , the fortress he penetrated was himself…

[ Upon the posting of this, Dave is a returning hero from the Iraqi War, if you know him tell him thank you for wearing the flag and to his wife and son thank them for Dave and his service.]

-B

Hum Hallelujah

[I wrote this a long time ago]

[OK, so the story goes like this, the night before my wedding I was still trying, rather desperately to write my vows. I was sitting in my Dads study with Weapon X and Chauk staring at a blank screen. The clock was ticking and early the next morning was the ceremony. You'll notice that "drawing a blank" was written in the vows. That was an old trick of mine to break writers block. Needless to say it worked and the vows before you were read to the guests.

I always viewed wedding vows as an oath. You swear before God and the guests which are family/friends as well as the foreign kid of what you intend to do. I was a young kid with nothing about to marry the object of my desire. I think I wanted to show her what I was worth. I like to think that I upheld my oaths but that would be like debating who fired "the shot heard round the world". Point in being is that I attempted to live up to it till that fateful day.

Anyway a lot of people liked my vows and its a literary work from yours truly, therefore I submit them for your enjoyment.]

drawing a blank

I don't have much to give

I don't know if I can ever buy you a car or house

I don't know if I'll ever be able to buy you diamonds or jewels

I don't know if I'll ever be able to buy you all the things that other people believe to make them wealthy

But I will give you this in exchange for your love

I will love you, forever will you be beautiful in my eyes

I will love our children, forever will they be my pride

I will never hurt you, Forever will be my shame

I will never hurt our children, forever will be my pain

I will never betray you, forever will be my dishonor

I will never betray our children, forever will be my guilt

Somethings are not worth fighting for, but you and our children are.

God in his wisdom has created me imperfect and I have told you this. being with you makes me want to strive for perfection and for you I will do this. I only ask patience for my quest continues in this life

I want you to know that I am willing to cross the spans of time to be there for you and our children

open the past, the present and the future, that all I've got and I'm giving it to you...

[early fall of 2006 the  Roman Catholic Church released me from the above vows.]

Declaration of war.

[This is my first work of fiction here.]

[I'm not really sure where the inspiration for this story came from. The whole idea is that a leader of a tormented nation finally decides to take action and sends his armies to war. When I was thinking/designing this story the images that came to mind were of a bunch of tanks speeding through the desert night in a company wedge formation with troop carriers following behind. I pictured the crew of one tank, grim faced, anxious listening to the declaration over the radio. I also saw Troops marching on either side of a highway, rifles in hand walking to the horizen as jeeps and other assorted vehicles drive down the road between them. I saw Police and armed civilians patrolling residential blocks determined to defend their loved ones and homes should the night fail.

It was a moving thought that I finally decided to put down on digits for you. I hope you like it]

Once again this is a countries leader speaking to his people and soldier as they go to war.

" Several years ago this beautiful nation was invaded, The enemy came to us in the night and using the darkness was succesful in dividing our small piece of the world. The mauraders took half our nation from us and during the defense, we settled in,reeling we fended of the invaders losing half the country.

Determined to continue life we accepted this new life. You, my brave people have pushed on to rebuild the loss of war and we were sucessful. But the new border was not enough for the enemy.

Over the years the enemy has been coming across our borders, stealing into the night. Raiding our cities, Attacking our people, police and armies.Harrasing attacks over time has begun to errode our new way of life like cement over a sunflower, smothering, conquering.

This is where I have failed you. I have only ever allowed our forces to drive off the mauraders. I have never allowed our men to cross the border. I have believed way too much in our new boundries that I have let the meanace in the night steal from us, to take our dignaty and life from us at no cost to them. I have spent too long allowing those who took from us to trample us.

Today with a heavy heart I have ordered a counter-attack.we will not only push the raiders back across their own border but we will invade their county. When we drive them to the heart of their new nation, we will stop, for we have shown them our border.Then we will return home to man our own lines.

There can be no true winner in this war.this war will be fought in our cites, in our homes and we will have to rebuild. even if we are sucessfull new challenges will arise. Putting our little nation back together will be our first priority and it will require a lot of work that I believe we are up to the task.

If we should fail, If we should not win the night, if our sons and daughters are stopped cold, remember this; That we have all stood together hand in hand and drew a line in the sand and shouted to the maurders in the night " ENOUGH!!! THE LINE IS HERE!!!" No longer will we worry about the fate of our children. We will have shown the enemy that we are no longer "free' that to have done this will have cost something. The enemy will remember our sweat, our tears and our blood. If we are conquered then the surviviors will remember the price of freedom and that even in losing somethings are definitely worth the cost.

My people, even a sunflower can break concrete to survive, to show the world above its pretty bloom. I believe that we can win the day or Vanish into the night trying.

Pray my people and I will see you in the new dawn..."

-B

A legend in my spare time.

Many, Many moons ago in a much different time here in Abq,NM a skate shop called "The Junkyard" opened up. The shop opened up in Cottonwood mall, the latest of malls to open here. The skating Community was all abuzz with this knowledge, that and the fact that the shop was accepting videos for A,B and Flow sponsorship. ANYBOHDY Projects was busy cranking out videos for all these kids not to mention our own team members to give out.


Well ashamedly I was one of those persons with my sights set on the limelight. I mean come on, it was every skaters dream to get on a team. I could see my self going places with this. I got my Teammates to film me and I cranked out a good video. Well at least I liked it. Finally sucking it up I marched into the store and handed them my Video.

Well I didnt make it. I'm not really sure why. Possible that I wasn't good enough or even cool enough. So after recieving the news I went to Carrows where alot of people hung out. I was drinkin my usual coke when something peculiar happened.


Now if anything "peculiar" happened at Carrows it was ussually Flint's doing. This time was no exception. Flint came charging into the smoking section[shows how long ago it was] carrying his board and with his Backpack known as "Jerry". He ran to my usual table sat down and produced a ciggarette, lit it and as he blew out the smoke of his first drag he said to me "Tony, you could never be sponsored..."


Ok, That was an immediate kick in the nuts. I sat there in disbelief staring at Flint as he took his second drag and as he blew out the smoke he said to me..


"You are not a big enough of an asshole to be sponsored!.."


When he finished he sat there looking me in the eyes, smiling as he flicked his ashes into the ashtray. All I managed was..


"What?"


With a bigger smile he went on to explain that if I had been sponsored all the fun would stop. Me and Flint, hell the rest of the PROJECTS were local heros not because of status or sponsorship but because we upheld the idea of skating. We would rule all the obstacles beneath all professional and sponsored skaters. It was what we thrived on. Flint said that if I got sponsored we would be above all the little obstacles and spots that made us.


There was a lot of debate as to why I never went pro and in the end it was Flint. That day when he ran up, he made me realize that not everything is meant to be. I wanted to be Pro like it was everyones dream but in reality all I wanted to do was skate. After that day I took skating to a different level. I continued to skate but it took a different priortiy as it officially became a pastime for me. The next day as I skated, It was like I was above the pro's as my beloved sport was not a bread winner. I could still feel the Impact my skating had on people. I had become a legend in my spare time.


-B

The End of the Circle.

So a long time ago I heard my aunt refering to the end of the circle and that it is time to start a new one. Well a circle has just ended for me. Shes gone, left, packed up and followed her boyfriend to points east. once again she has found someone to pay for her and to give her the things she wants. I hope she finds happiness and all the things she wants out there. Its funny as she started acting like when she first left me again a few months ago, It confused the hell outta me. Then she asked for a meeting with me and after all business was taken care of she got upset that I left without talking to her. she was wearing make up.

I dont really suppose thats what matters. I suppose one of us had to be able to trot though life carefree after the divorce. All I wanted was my son. I remember the intense sorrow, pain and depression that led to the "Emo" man before you. How much has changed? and at what cost? My son and me have been through a lot for nothing. For a completely absurd reason our lives have been jumbled and forever changed.

The problem with the end of the circle is this, Does a circle ever really end? can you change a circle path? and a circle always passes the same points again and again. Thats its nature, it never ends. I see trouble in my path, I myself have watched a precious member of my family taken from me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was horrible, I will not lose my precious son to the ages of nothing and the silly reasoning of a pervese generation.

I sit here now looking to the mountains, a permanent monument to the east, always bordering Albuquerque. Its "where the sidewalk ends" so they say. I have heard tell that on the other side of the mountain is a cliff, that all people who drive away on the other side of the mountain fall off and never come back. I hope she finds what she wants and I hope to be able to grow old with my son...
-B

THE DAY CHESTY PULLER DIED.

[ The article you are about to read was my first ever written. I wrote it while deployed to Qatar, post 9/11. I spent most of that year in Kuwait or Qatar. when i was writing this My Battle Buddy Scott was waiting patienty for me to finish. I ripped the article from yahoo and decided to leave it the way it was. It wasalso written during my first deployment from my wife.]



>Everybody when they were young had a
> hero. Heros before 9/11 were really scarce, let
> alone survive when people who held them dear "grew
> up". I remember having so much faith in superheros
> until the day I learned that the world is a hollow
> place. Everything changed that day, I never realized
> that a simple fact,even a truth would have such an
> impact in my life. Most of who I became is because
> of that fateful day and it will always remain with
> me.
>
> Actually my hero wasnt a single person
> but a multitude of people. My heros were the United
> States Marines. Marines were my heros, my idols,
> everything I wanted to be. They were like Knights in
> shining armor. Honor, Glory, God was their name,
> Their tradition. I had visions of Marines fighting
> battles, wars to right the wrong , free the
> oppressed. Every Marine to me was a friend, a person
> to respect.
>
> I suppose most of the reason I felt
> that way was because my father was a Marine. Not
> only was he a Marine he was their elite, a super
> Marine. My father as a Gunnery Sergeant in Force
> Recon was "THE" Marine, like Chesty Puller. he was
> [is] tough, mean, nasty, tired , he ate Cassitina
> wire for breakfast and could put a round in a fleas
> ass at 500m. His Companions were all like that, the
> elite, Recon Marines . People who had no fear,
> jumped from the skies, swam through the seas, and
> Died on distance shores to right the wrong and to
> free the oppressed. I ve seen Marines and i held
> them all dear. Marines dont die, the Marine Corp
> lives forever, so they will always live.
>
> THE DAY CHESTY PULLER DIED i was in
> my bedroom. I was 11 at the time, I was reading a
> newspaper having been bored reading the comics
> sometimes I read the news. On that fateful day Two
> marines were found guilty of raping a woman in
> Japan. I was in utter dismay, The most henious crime
> committed by Two of my sacred heros. In my mind it
> wasnt possible for those knights to do that. I felt
> that it was obviously a set up, that justice had
> failed these Marines, that they had came to her
> rescue and had been mistakingly charged with the
> crime. I did the only thing I knew to do, I took the
> newspaper and ran downstairs to my father. My father
> would hear of this outrage jump up get on the phone
> and try to save his brother Marines from this
> tradgedy.
>
> I told my story to my father, but he
> didnt jump up. he just sat there. I still remember
> the look on my mothers face at that moment I was
> trying to bring justice to my brother Marines. My
> father simply replied in a low voice " they did it."
> . Iremember his face and my Mothers as i said "But
> they are Marines ?" like he didnt understand the
> importance of the situation, like I didnt say
> "MARINES" and in the same low voice he replied "
> Tony, They werent real Marines." I remember that
> when he said it, he didnt look at me. In a state of
> shock I took my newspaper and walked slowly back to
> my room, sat down and realized the there are no
> heros left in this world, the only heros left were
> graves with the Marine Corp emblem on them.
>
> I like to think that the reason Dad
> never look at me that day was so that he wouldnt
> have to watch Chesty Puller as he died beside me.
> that fateful day I lost my Faith in the Marine Corp
> and decided that I would never be one. In fact i
> spent 8 or so years running from the military. Thing
> just were not the same with out my heros. I cant say
> that I blame Dad , I never wanted to watch Chesty
> die in my room but i did. Its funny why does growing
> up always require a tradgedy.Its just not fair to
> all the Marines that were my heros, but truth is
> what killed them. I realized that the world is an
> evil place and i grew indifferent to that sense of
> honor that I once had, and being in the modern
> military I wish i still had it. THE DAY CHESTY
> PULLER DIED I learned what it was like to grow up, it takes pain, maybe thats why I >fought it for so long.In the middle of a deployment to preserve freedom after 9/11 all I >can say is I really miss Chesty Puller.
-B

The Giant Steps and the culture caper.

[This is a true story]

There are so many lines dividing all of us. Cliques, race,creed,nationality, hell even at some point what you wear can seperate you. If you're skinney or overweight set you apart. Everyone [ by "everyone' I mean "somepeople"]talks about unity and all together "one-ness" but who really means it. Racist is bad and if you listen to enough people you will discover that everyone is racist.

People who are obviously better spellerz and more intelligent than me talk about unifing princibles. Like Mathmatics links us all ooooor all children fear the dark. I'm pretty sure there's more but I cant help thinking about one link. That is what todays story is about.

Now its no secret that I was a skateboarder. A bigger secret might be that I grew up listening to Hip-hop or pop if you are a gangsta rappa. I liked the beats and flow, to be honest if my mexican ass could dance I woulda to all that but apparently dance was not in my genetic code. When i became a skater Andy, who was my mentor dissaproved. Like all skaters of the year 1990[?] he listened to punk. Wanting to fit in I delved into the likes of Bad Religion, Dead Kennedys and the descendants. I listened to my old Hip-hop and my new punk. Eventually I found one of my main genre of musk "Pop-punk".

Many years ago while running the "Projects" as a "legitimate" business, Greg came to see me when I worked at a Weinerschnitzel. He had a dire need for a video to graduate High school. I agreed to make it in return for two tickets to "the Edgefest", a local music festival that came to town. My non-blood brother, Dave came up from El paso everynow and again to Skate and hang. A days worth of concerts would be something to write home about. So the video was made and I recieved my payday.

Now to be honest at the Time I hated Ska.Chuck Ryan had a girlfriend at the time who absolutely loved Ska. She would pick on me and use peer-pressure tactics to try to get me to listen to her music. Being completely stuck on Green Day did not help her case. I using my notorious stubbornness refused to entertain her or Ska.

That particular year it turned out that the second/local stage was more rocking than the main stage.  Ironically It turned out that "The Giant Steps" was playing that year. The Giant Steps were a local favorite ska-band. That particular day changed my life forever.

I believe the band "Elephant" just got done playing and the Giant Steps were announced. I think that the mainstream band was one that I did not care for, so me and Dave opted to stay.the band came out and began to play. I have to admit that I liked it. they were different. They were not wearing Zoot suits, they were wearing normal clothes. They totally dominated the crowd with the best cover ever of "Brown eyed girl". I was completely and utterly moved by the music and the atmosphere of the crowd.

It was then that I noticed it. I stopped "dancing" and looked at the crowd. I was up at the stage looking back at all the people. I saw skaters, regular people, metal heads people in cowboy hats and people in ICP shirts, all dancing together. There was no one just standing around, they were all dancing or jumping to the music. All different kinds of people with different opinion and attitudes all brought together by the Giant Steps and music.

The rest of the Edgefest didnt seem the same afer The Giant Steps finished playing. People melted back to what was originally there. Drifing back to their ways and the path of self. I kept hoping that another band would pick up the torch, but none did or could. I took the memory home and have treasured it ever since. After that I had also developed a fondness for Ska and Ska-punk.

For once in my life I had seen the lines that divide us blurred away by music which in my opinion is preferrable to the boogyman.

-B

The French connection.

[This is a true story]


So a few years back when my wife left me she used to call me and bitch me out all the time. I wish I could say I deserved it, maybe I did. I hear that its normal for X's to do that. she'd call and yell at me for the sun going down, she'd bitch me out for the moon rising and for her leaving me, I mean literally whatever. Hell I think I got it once because her friends were being mean and once twice for her having a bad day at work. Once I got a call from her on christmas eve cause she wanted to kill herself and then she got mad cause I tried to talk to her, to motivate her and then I got it from my X-fiancee, damn I cant win.


Well this particular story is about a phone call I had recieved once from my X-wife.

My mother has a real problem with Impulse shopping and an even bigger problem with her Odd sense of humor. Well one time at Wally World my mom bought a new phone for the house. It's cordless, has Caller I.D. and it talks. It'll give a really bad version of the name of the incoming caller. Interestingly enough with the flick of a switch it'll try to pronounce your name in a foreign language.


Well my mother one day woke up and decided that the phone needed to speak French. So "Blam" with a flick of the switch my family moved up in class as people whom met the answering machine were greeted in a fancy european accent, known for eating snails, white flags and uber horny skunks, Thats class!!!


Apparently my X-wife had called to speak to my son or maybe even my mom and had been greeted with French. I dont know what she was thinking but she called me to find out just exactly what was going on.


Her:" Have you called your parents phone"
ok, Already this is an interesting question, why would you call yourself at home?
Me:"No."
Her" Well the machine answered in french"
Like she never knew my mom, mom's always doing weird stuff.
Me:"ok."
she hated the fact that I answered in monosylables.
Her:"why is the Phone in french?"
what kinda question is that? like we joined the french resistance? or like we are a French sleeper cell hellbent on bad accents and berets for all? weirdo!
Me: "How the F#@k would I know"
Her:"Did they move"
Like they moved to france? its the American dream.That and we obviously got to keep our phone number.
Me:"no"
Her:' then why is their phone speaking French?"
Me:" I dunno, It's their phone if they want it to speak French then it will speak French."
Her:" oh, I thought they had moved, hahahahaha!"
Me:" Well mom does weird things from time to time."
Her:"ok, well I'll talk to you later."
what was that? some kinda threat?
Me:"Ok."


It just goes to show that in some neighborhoods crack is cheaper than others. The funny part was that mom later walked up to me giggling about the fact that she decided that the phone was French and that she had heard the message that the X-wife had left. Apparently she was unsure as if it was the right number.Mom said she had done it to see what would happen if the phone spoke french.


Of all the phone calls I recieved during the course of my divorce that one was the most memerable, possibly the most pleasant. It was a real trying time for me and despite all that I could see the "off the wall" of it. The calls have died away to nothing or to pass the phone to my son. Whatever Contact there is, is too brief and formal to be interesting anymore. Time has moved on to hidden resentment and formal politeness.


These days I have stepped in line to walk amungst the dead and I spend my days looking for the interesting surreal that adds color and spice to the day.


Mother on the other hand will entertain herself if you don't entertain her.


-B

Zombies and Ghosts.

[This is a thought I had]

Dang near a year or so ago I had found one of my closest friends sitting on a set of stairs crying. I had a pretty good idea why he was in tears and put the story in prospective upon taking a closer look at him. My friend dresses well and that day was no exception. Properly and nicely dressed in proper cowboy garb sittin on steps, head down on his arms. Apparently he had attempted to take the mother of his child who was the object of his hearts desire out, and it didnt go so well.

As I sat down next to him he threw his arms around me and began to weep. I placed my arms around him and just held on as any good friend should do. Not so deep inside, I felt the memories of the times that I was the man sitting on the stairs. Sharp pans of sorrow and closed wounds surfaced. He began to ask what was wrong, why were things going so horribly wrong. My mind fell to when once I had defined this through a rant after my wife had left. The answer to some is stoopidly silly, but to those like me it makes sense.

The answer lies in the definition of Zombies and Ghosts...

Ghosts: Are something that once was and will always be but is no longer here. They are the remanants of something forever trapped in memory and time forever doomed to roam your memory and mind. Visible in brief dream like wisps then fade away to nothing, a memory, a ghost...

Zombies: Resemble something that once was but will never be again. Zombies are a shell of a person you once knew, loved or cherished but on the inside have become an unrecognizeable creature. No amount of begging or sorrow will ever turn it back into what it once was. Zombies have become something different and you are forced to watch something that resembles become something else throughout daily life. The horror lies in the memory of what was...

We all live with our zombies or ghosts. I have both as well as skeletons but being human I'm not that different from you that way.

-B

Chesty Puller's day off

[This is a true story]

So many things in your life change. Things and people come and go. There are so few solid, dependable comforts these days. No monuments to take comfort in. Hell even the world is changing in nature as well as society. My life is usually in disarray but I personally have a marker, solid and stable in the chaos of daily life. This story comes to you on the eve of my 5 year anniversary of my wife leaving. She left for someone else's love on June 16, 2006. It's been a long journey for me and my son. Don't get me wrong I liked being married which is why I will share with you this tale of my father.

My Father first and foremost is a Marine. Down to his blood and underwear. Once a year on Nov 10th I buy him a birthday cake for the Marine Corps birthday. Secondly he was a Force Recon Marine. Lets be honest, it made my life easy when I went to the Army, I was ready for basic cause I lived in it. Lastly My father was a Police officer. My Dad was obviously set in his ways. A combat veteran, Special ops and well a Father, he made life interesting or at least uncomfortable. Above all Dad is a true "Damn you! I'm doing it my way!". He never waivered or faltered in his personality to suit you or anyone else. From Field days of cleaning the house with tooth brushes to mowing the lawn without cutting implements, and yes marching uphill, yes both ways to school cause only sissies walk up hill one way. He is the perfect monument.

My wedding day was greeted with the second largest power outtage in my state's history. Ok, so God does try to send signs but hey I was in love. To top it off the preacher we had booked did not show up. I remember sitting in the parking lot trying to think and all these people were walking up to me to tell me Shelly was cryin, like I didn't know. I believe Omar yelled at me to go see her despite the "curse" of seeing her in her dress before the wedding. Well long story short we got another preacher to set us up. to be honest I dont remember where my Dad was at this point.

We Finally got it together and before you knew it we had a chapel, a preacher and even an audience. I remember standing there in my tux by the alter, looking at the guests and bantering back and forth. Suddenly the wedding march began to play. Panic began to seep in every fiber of my being! I felt like yelling "Wait!!!Five more minutes!!" like 5 minutes would change anything. The doors opened and in walked my Bride, escorted by my Father. The panic Subsided but was still present as the marched step at a time down the asile.

Dad escorted Shelly to the preacher and presented to her. The preacher smiling took Shellys hand and asked " Who is this that brings this bride before me?" and my Father Replied " I do.". This by the looks of the preacher it caught him off guard as he probably was not prepared for this. The preacher being a good sport tried again thinking that maybe Dad just didnt understand the question. " who brings this lovely woman before us to be married?" to which my Dad replied once again " I do.". The preacher slightly better prepared ducked this and asked once again " Who are you that Brings the bride before us?" and My father in a voice that only a elite Marine Corps Drill Instructor could, yelled " ME!!!". The preacher reeled like a brand new private at the booming voice of my father and immediately conceded then he proceded with the ceremony.

I stood on my spot watching my Father standing there with the woman I loved enough to marry. He stood there badge, gun, handcuffs and all looking at the preacher. It was then that I knew my Father would never change. A smile came to my face and the rest they say is history.

I mentioned earlier that things change and I for one can testify to this. My father is still a beacon in my life. He is proof that people come and go, times change but you don't have to change. He stands his line alone but he dosent mind company from time to time.

When we were all children Dad and an X-uncle would have us bless Chesty Puller "where ever he may be". I believe my wedding day was Chesty's day off and my Dad, like a good Marine steped up to shoulder the load.

-B

The upward spiral...The life and times of the "PROJECTS"

[and now for something different]

Every kid has the inclination at some point to start a company or at least a gang. I myself have done both. The crown jewel of my various efforts was known as "The PROJECTS". This is that story.


I grew us skating in Socal, It was awesome back in the day. There were so many Professional and amature skaters around. The weather was prime for an outdoor sport. How I started skating is another story for another day. All that really matters is that on that particular day me and my Skating mentor Andy were hangin out with a local Evol team pro named Brian Barber. He like most skaters of the day had witty sayings written on his grip tape. That day I noticed he had "NOHBODY" writted on his board. We were hanging out, takin a break by the B of A by Vons groceries on Felicta rd in Escondido, ca. Perplexed I asked about it and Brian replied that it was a company he wanted to form,cause he wanted to tell people that "NOHBODY" skates.


Well that got my young pre-teen mind thinking and later at Miller elementary Andy and I had a conversation as to the crew we were hoping to start. Wanting to be part of the mainstream of skating in the town we took the heros name and mimicked it so that "ANYBOHDY" could skate. Plans to recruit people to be on our crew and a Video were made and several days later ANYBOHDY PRODUCTIONS was formed. That summer we filmed an shot our first video called "Extinction" due to the fact that I was leaving. It was a crude but watchable 15 minute video completely made in the skating video format of the day. I believe the video was made in 1992 and it took all summer. The Team line-up was : Andy Goddard, Christmas Bernasak, Steve Garcia, Nick Douglas, Chad, Jeramy Rosebach and myself. Then me and my family packed up and came to New Mexico that fall.


With Anybohdy Productions on the back burner due to the move it was pretty boring. to make it worse I now had to deal with cold and snow. The other problem to arise was the need for a car, in the north west everything was so damn far apart. Well I finally made it to the scene in a debut that required me to Ollie the plaza stairs but during the course of the "West-Side Chronicles" Anybohdy never really took off. I left the west side that summer and arrived in the North east heights. that was 1993.Skating was really difficult that year.


In the school year of 1994 [my senior year] I once again broke through in the scene. Due to a school project Anybohdy Productions took off. During filming teenage drama prevailed and the video was never finished. It was a real good skating year. A lot despite the video was accomplished. I had recruited my first team member since Socal, a crazy big kid named Rhian "The Superior Being" Batson who remained a teammember till the end.


In 1994 and beyond Anybohdy Productions was basically a crew. We hired all the rejects and uncool. Kinda like Jesus, we took all the people who wanted to fit but didnt fit.I had turned 18 and left home and lived with Chuck Ryan.we met a lot of great people.


In 1996 Anybohdy finally released its second video called "sophistication" it had Four skaters in it. Chuck Ryan, Pat Mcdougal [ a man I will remember forever], Rhian "The Superior Being" Batson and Me. It took several months to gather the footage and edit. It was my favorite video. I think it went well for local zero's. We had a debut party at Rhians house.


Also during 1996 I was approached by a local DJ for 107.9 the Edge who was in desperate need of a video to graduate high school. He came to my work and during my break he convinced me to make his video, All it cost him was a pair of tickets to Edgefest. The Video was called " What the hell happened to my shoes?" it was a non-skating video. I made The Dj [Greg Shisman] and a guy we called T-bags into two charachters who had a zany adventure. it was about 20 mins long and helpe Greg graduate. It was clever and funny, I wish I had it still.


Somewhere between 1995-1996 Anybohdy Projects became a business. We made college recruiting videos for the Hanks High School softball team, This required me to move to El paseo, Tx. There the name was changed to AnyBohdy Projects as I didnt do productions but projects. Anybohd Projects at the Time consisted of Maria Snow, Bonnie Campbell and David Ray Campbell. after a the school year ended I went home to Abq.

Several small vids were made to help people try out for the "junkyard". Also made was a video called " The Trip Left Field". I recall that Video being a montage, having no individual parts. Riders were: Steve Townsend, David Ray Campell, possibly Pat Mcdougal and Rhian "The Superior Being" Batson. New to the roster was my sister Alma, she played a critical role in the making of the video. There may be more riders but I'd have to look or find it to tell you. I think after this the name was shortened once again to "the Projects". This was mostly Flint Becks doing. He then Designed the new logo. I will always refer to it as Anybohdy.


Anybohdy Projects has one last project, A video called " Shelby" basesd on a story crated by Chuck Ryan. The whole idea was to make a psudeo monster story and link it to a skate video. The line up for the Video was : Dave Campbell, Flint Beck, Rhian " The Superior Being" Batson, Steve " Mistah T" Townsend, Noah "The Man " Roden, Chuck Ryan. It was our biggest challenge and lots of work and filming went into it, but it never got to the runway. I think this was 1997.


I eventually decided to pull the plug. Life was moving on for all of us. I had Rhian " The Superior Being" Batson who was our artist draw up the Tombstone for THE PROJECTS. I was bummed but we were all going seperate ways.


I believe the end was 1998. Eventually I got married and had a kid. I went to the Army and to war. I still tell stories about it. To tell the truth I miss it. Once again I am "The Projects", I wonder if itll start again. We had started sooo much. We helped a skate zine called "Prophaganda" start, I helped a Board company start called "Done" We wrote stories and created art. Anybohdy was my Pen name for a underground Magazine called " life By john" people would walk up to me at Sandia high school to shake my hand, I would hear people say to other people that I was an underground writer. I drew Flints logo on everything. I like to think that once again Anybohdy will rise Again. Giving hope to the underdogs in a much more creative way than Jason Biggs could ever do. Anybohdy was my obsession for years I drew its logos or made art on everything. It was So much fun to do all this, even through the hard times. I look to the future to see if itll rise again.


Will Anybohdy Live??? does Anybohdy care??


@nybohdy will rise again@!!!@!!@!!@!!@!

-B


The following is a list of all riders/teammates:
from California:Andy Goddard, Christmas Bernasak,chad colvin[?], Jeramy Rosenbach,Steve Garcia, Nick Douglas.


El paso,Tx: Maria Snow, David Campbell,Bonnie Campbell.


Abq,NM: Rhian " The Superior Being " Batson, Flint Beck[R.I.P], Flints Brother,Chuck Ryan, Pat Mcdougal, Ace, Montanna Stone, Josh Steinlaugh, Clare Xuerbe, Margret Burke, Alma Bieniek,John, Carl Parker, Sketchy,Steve "Mistah T" Townsend,Jason, Noah "The Man" Roden, and Dave Campbell.

Anybohdy lives

Hello all,

Many years ago in my little slightly demented, definitely confused mind a spark was born. With enough determination and encouragment the "Projects" was born. Anybohdy Projects was a rouge,underdog of a Skatecrew/Video production company. the Projects and me had a lot of fun over those years.

With what had once started in my mind it has again returned. No video projects to do, no skate crew to film or do stunts. Once again Anybohdy is me. Its my thoughts and my ideas, nothing short of the quests and chronicles of a hero with a capital Z. I had promised that we would return and here it is.

I know there are people here who blog well, witty, amusing and sometimes cruel. I cant promise all of that. What I can promise is my thoughts and expiriences. I can hope you enjoy, but the reality is that this is the PROJECTS.

To the team riders/employees of old..."AnyBohdy Lives!!"

to you the reader, "Here we are."

-Anybohdy