fuckoffjesus:

Fuck off, Jesus!

walkingonairr:

FUTURE BACKYARD

What??!?

Midwest Pride:

Who’d’a thought it, right? All it took was to leave the Midwest. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. I love the Midwest. There I said it. I can’t imagine a better place to grow up. I don’t know that I’ll ever live there again but I really look forward to visiting for reasons beyond just seeing the people I love…..

1. Living without a car is a thing of beauty. Commuting to work sucks ass, even despite the fact that it’s an incredibly beautiful drive through the forest and mountains. I always promised myself that I would never work a job long-term that required a long driving commute and this shit confirms that I never will. I totally miss being able to go out and cut loose and coast home. It requires a lot more planning when you have to worry about getting back to your house that’s 10 miles away from the bar or getting to your car the next morning. If I stick around this summer I think there are going to be some hilariously epic middle-of-the-night rides home. Maybe I’ll just fill a pannier with a blanket and hammock so everywhere can be my home…

I do realize that this is not necessarily only available in the Midwest, but when there are between two and like a million feet of snow piled on the side of the road it really hinders your ability to ride a bike without seriously taking your life into your own hands. If you wanted to you could ride bike pretty much all year in Indiana. If there’s too much snow you can just wait 24 to 48 hours and it’ll turn into brown, slushy grossness that some full-coverage fenders will make short work of. Gotta take the good with the bad. 

2. People really are genuinely super friendly in the Midwest. More so than any other regular place (read: place where the majority of people aren’t making a living off of being friendly) I’ve been. Everywhere definitely has its pockets of both, but Midwesterners seem cheerier and far more willing to have a conversation about nothing with a total stranger. Our capacity for small talk is much more highly developed than the average California native.

My name tag says I’m from Bloomington, IN (a lot more likely to be recognized than Carmel) and when the rare Midwesterner comes into the shop a conversation about how sweet it is there typically develops. Usually that’s followed by a discussion of how we loved growing up there but probably wouldn’t be moving back, but not because it wasn’t a great place. Only because we have a strong need of varied landscapes and the fulfillment of the year-round rec-head lifestyle to some degree or another.

At the same time, though, when it’s snowing proper here you can’t do shit. At my house the snow is piled up to half the height of the windows. Like chest-deep. Seriously. You can’t hike around or play outside much at all. Except ski/board. And therein lies the solution, at least for the time being. 

3. There is no better forest in the world to live in than that of Southern Indiana. Old growth forests are incredible and conifer forests have their smell and year-round loveliness and rainforests are obviously pretty spectacular but there’s nothing like a hilly deciduous forest in the spring to make you feel alive, or in the summer to inspire you to explore, or in the fall to make you contemplative and peaceful, or the winter to make you appreciate a fire and people close to you and a heated home (and the rest of the seasons). Those of you living the life back in Indiana or surrounds should make sure you don’t take it for granted. True there are fewer options for adventures to have outside, but think about how creative it forces you to be! Look deeper and you can find some pretty amazing shit to explore.

I had the incredibly good fortune of growing up in a house surrounded by this landscape. In early childhood there was nothing around us but farmland and our 10 acres of woods. Since then all that farm land has become neighborhoods but at the time it forced us to make the absolute most of what we had available to us. We were constantly running around outside, making lean-tos and tepees, digging “wells,” climbing trees, getting poison ivy…….everywhere, sword fighting, tromping through the creek, skating on the creek, sledding, tree housing, etc. It was a hell of a damn way to grow up. I don’t believe I could ever feel truly at home in a pine forest.

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I love my home. I feel proud that I’m from there. I wish I could see that shop girl in SF who, when told we were from IN responded by saying, “Hmm, Indiana. That’s one of those states you totally forget exists,” so I could slap the shit out of her. Not really. But seriously, she can eat a bag of dicks. 

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Dear Midwest, I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again. 

Xoxoxo,

Ian

Tight Bros:

Most importantly, those long-(or not-so-long-)established relationships back home (not necessarily a specific place (like that aptly-titled Edward Sharpe song whose lyrics would be waaay to sappy to quote here)) that don’t require any effort to maintain. The ones whose existence you’re allowed to take for granted because there’s no need to question them. Some are ages old, some surprisingly new, but either way they’re the ones who make living in a new place and not knowing anyone bearable. I encourage (beg) anyone in this category (and it’s a lot bigger than I’d previously realized (if you’re actually reading this crap then it’s probably you)) to come visit and enjoy this really spectacular place!

With that qualifier established I gotta say: it’s not easy doing all that, despite those core dudes you know are around somewhere. I had never realized how much of a social creature I was. It’s rad to be capable of flying solo, but it’s definitely not something I like to do with frequency. It’s great to have sweet dudes and dude babes around to help with a lot of aspects of life. Eventually you find those in a new place but it takes a surprising amount of effort. I feel like I’ve been more outgoing and sociable here than I have in the rest of my life combined. 

It’s not easy to meet people here because there are so many dudes and there’s this weird bullshit sense of competition between them. Thus, it’s hard to meet babes because for every lady there are 15 megabros all doing windmills to see who can best whap themselves in the face to earn the girl’s favor. I just can’t bring myself to care enough to try to outcompete a million Chads so I can talk to one girl who probably sucks (maybe that’s not totally fair but it’s still far too much of a pain in the ass for me). Also there’s some big time high school clique action going on. I’ve heard it referred to as Squaw Valley High. The rumor mill is incredible here (I’m trying to think of some good ones to start so if anyone has any suggestions send them my way).

Honestly though it’s like that anywhere. Bloomington is probably as bad or worse until you’ve been there for a while. Likewise, once you’re a familiar face around here people start to open up and it becomes pretty awesome. Now I have people I like to ride with, when I go to the bar I run into people I know, I hear about parties, etc. I think I’m over the 3-month hump. There’s nothing like having people you really want to see to help you warm up to a place. Once you’ve got that it’s really pretty awesome. 

I’m still not convinced this is the place for me for good but it’s a pretty rad spot to be for a while. I hear summer is outta sight so I may have to stick around for at least one. They say you come here for the winters and stay for the summers. I’ll save my final judgement until I’ve experienced it all. 

I think it’s possible I allowed myself to unfairly judge California early on because the people I met who were from here were all 18-22 year old ski resort employees. Thinking back, I was kind of a dick when I was that age. I might’ve had a slightly better work ethic than a lot of the kids I’ve met here, but they just don’t make ‘em anywhere else like they do in the Midwest. On that tip…..

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Coming soon: Vol. III, Midwest Pride (no, seriously)

Since my last post was so vastly removed from my normal effervescent/positive style/mentality I think I’ll write about some of the things that have made life amazingly great recently and in general.

(There was too much so I decided to make it a series. I have no delusions that I can effectively hold the average person’s attention for more than a few paragraphs)

After a Bad Crash…:

I hate to be overly dramatic. That shit is absolutely not my style. That said, it sucks to be legitimately shaken. It takes effort and some time to recover from that kind of thing (but we’ll try the best that we can…to caaaaaaarry on (having a serious rock out session to Styx)!!). All you can really do is be positive and go ride and conquer it. And apparently cry about it to the internet…

Honestly, though, I feel like in the past several days I’ve come a long way in honing my already solid-as-a-rock perspective on life. I’m feeling really positive and grateful for everything I’ve got going on. Family coming to visit definitely doesn’t hurt either. 

It’s too easy to overlook the really awesome stuff and dwell on what you wish was different. I understand the argument that if you’re not content with what you’re doing then make a change, but I am a strong proponent of putting your time in to work toward the future that you want to create. Yeah yeah, you could die tomorrow and all that effort would be wasted, but living for the constant payoff just doesn’t yield the kind of life-sustaining happiness necessary for the typical person living the true sweet life. It’s like sleeping with someone you don’t really share a connection with: it’s (sometimes) great at the time but often leaves you feeling pretty unfulfilled and really can’t compare with kickass, emotionally-driven sexy times (maybe this means I’m unenlightened to the sexual openness of our generation…..I’m just speaking from experience).

Every part of life and every shitty situation and every time you fight through it shapes you a lot more than you realize at the time, hopefully (and in my personal experience, almost always) in a really positive way. I’ve spent my whole life working toward some nebulous, intangible future because that’s the way it’s supposed to happen, according to someone. Moving to Tahoe was the first time in my entire life that I’ve done something proactive and wholly independent to deliberately change the course of my future. This fact is most likely why I am capable of coping with non-ideal situations for extended periods of time and honestly I’m really grateful for it. What you really want don’t always (always don’t?) come easy, and no matter how little association what you’re doing seems to have with what you do want, I’ve found that in the long run the correlation can be surprising (or maybe it’s how often you realize that what you thought you wanted is not at all what you really want). 

If you’re in a state of constant upheaval because you’re dissatisfied with most of your experiences then you never give yourself a chance to discover the potential of those non-ideal situations. There’s always a silver lining. Always. To the point where sometimes a situation is so horrible that you feel guilty to admit that good has come of it. Usually that’s not the case though and if you look deep enough you realize how much you’ve grown or how many new opportunities have opened up or what cool or weird relationships you’ve formed or which existing relationships will stick and which will fade or which are or aren’t worth the effort. 

I would be a completely different person if not for all the pain in the ass jobs and schooling I’ve had:

College was a drag a lot of the time. A lot of the classes I took seemed totally irrelevant and worthless (a lot of them were). Sometimes I was stoked but a lot of the time I wished I was doing something else. The positive aspects of sticking with it don’t really need to be recounted here.

Laughing Planet was a total pain in the ass a lot of the time and I really didn’t want to be there but without it everything would be different. A boatload of the most important people and relationships in my life came together because of that damn place.

Working at Bikesmiths was totally awesome. No complaints there.

Working in an office buuh-looows. I did that crap for a year and it sucked for almost all of it. Not the people I worked with or the work we were doing, but sitting in front of a computer all day reading documents and conducting analyses was totally soul-sucking. Woof. Totally worth it though. For one, it showed me very clearly that that’s definitely not what I want to do in life. It gave me incredible connections for what I do want to do. Projects that I largely authored have been published and distributed to municipal agencies, NGOs, and the public (feels pretty good and looks real good on the old resume (yeah, pronounced like it’s spelled here)). It provided the financial backing for an incredibly epic six-month period just before leaving Bloomington, much of which is somewhat hazy, but the whole of which I will absolutely never forget and which solidified my take-it-as-it-comes, no undue stress, gotta do what you gotta do (GTD as I like to say it (myself, but much more often others having to do their thing (everyone’s got their shit to deal with just like I do, and as long as they’re respectful there’s no reason for me or my shit to get in the way of that))), serious-only-when-I-have-to-be (long-established but can always be strengthened), positive mental attitude (PMA (acronyms are both stylish and help to save time)). It also provided the financial backing for a hair-brained move to Kings Beach, California, the outcome of which is still undetermined, but sure to prove monumental. 

These are certainly not the only crappy situations I put up with for longer than I wanted to, nor are they the only positive aspects of these particular situations. These are just some examples. I’m just a glass-half-full type of dude and I like to think about these kinds of things. 

Living the dream goes way beyond doing cool shit, and you don’t always have to be doing really cool shit to be living the dream. Keep your goals and aspirations high, but allow yourself to find the happiness of every day life, no matter how bleak it may seem. Goddamnit I love new wiper blades…

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This really turned into Ian Oehler’s guide to life. I’m ok with that I suppose but it’s really the dialogue that’s been taking place in the old noodle recently. This is how I try to live and I’m having a ball!

This post is kinda heavy. Don’t read it unless you’re in that kind of mood. It’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. It sucked to think about it but it was really pretty therapeutic to write it out. It took place on the 17th of February. 

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The first heavy snow in almost two months! Four-day storm total of nine feet! Gotta shred and find the deepest, least skied spots on the mountain! 

Everyone—including myself—was freaking big time for these reasons and we did just that. It had snowed probably three feet over night and was still snowing heavily. It was mid-week so I only had to work a half-day and got to ride the rest of the day. 

Only part of the mountain is open so three of us go to Squaw Creek, the very end of the mountain which is the closest thing to backcountry we have. It’s usually really awesome and you can typically find freshies a few days after a storm. Today is epic in every sense of the word.

We ride for a couple of hours and it is, I believe, the best snow I’ve even skied, the coolest runs I’ve ever taken, and the gnarliest gnar this gnarly bro has ever shredded. 

We find this one particular spot that’s somewhat hard to get to even though it’s very close to the normal groomed runs. It’s a ridge that juts out between them. I’m in the zone feeling super confident and stoked, grinning like an idiot the whole time, sometimes taking other people’s tracks, sometimes making my own. I pick a really sweet, untouched line through some trees. I miss my turn and go to fall, no big deal. So I fall forward and and expect to roll over and jump right back up. I neglect to account for the facts that the terrain levels out for a few yards, I’m falling toward a tree well, the snow is waist deep, and no one has been in this particular spot. 

(When you fall everything obviously happens really quick. It becomes instinctual to fall in a certain way so you can avoid hurting yourself and jump right back up. Just like on a bike or a skateboard you try to tuck your shoulder and roll through it. It feels great to do this in powder because it’s like falling on clouds. I had never ridden in snow this deep before though.)

So I miss my turn and fall forward. No big. But. Rather than rolling through it and hopping back up when I tuck my shoulder I sink. When everything stopped I found myself in total dark with a mouth and nose full of snow and my lungs feeling compressed and unable to expand to catch a full breath. I realize I’m more or less upside down (sort of on my side at a 45 degree angle with my head and right shoulder at the bottom). I can tell there are at least a couple of feet of snow above my head but also that part of my board and one of my feet are above the surface. I try to spit out the snow in my mouth and nose (inevitably inhaling some) and start to fucking freak.

I’m hyperventilating and thrashing around trying to get some kind of purchase and clear some room to breathe.

Clarity. If you can calm yourself down and be deliberate you won’t die, even though it feels like you might. Soon. The snow is not thaat deep and you’re right by a tree with fairly low-lying branches. Breathe. There’s not enough air available or enough room for your lungs to expand to continue breathing in these short, fevered breaths. Relax. It’s gonna be alright. This fucking helmet is choking me.(tries to tear it off) It’s not the helmet. Gotta control your breathing. You’ve gotta calm down. Fuck. Control your breathing. Ok. It could be worse. I can breathe a little. My body is totally ok. I don’t have to do this with a broken arm or leg or neck or anything. Relax. Find a branch…..got one. Feels pretty slim though. Worth a shot. Pull. Try to get into a better position to stand up. (breaks) Oh god. (helplessness)

Can’t get enough air. Mouthfuls of snow. You’re going to suffocate. Gotta relax. You can absolutely do this if you don’t lose your head. Legs. Can’t do shit as long as your legs are strapped to a board above your head. Left foot is closer and you can reach it if you use the tree. Ready. Yess! Tail of my board! Foot! C’mooon abs! (starting to hyperventilate again) Goddamn bindings! (ankle strap open) Can’t breathe. Almost…. (toe strap open) Fucking finally. You’re going to suffocate. Gotta relax. You can absolutely do this if you don’t lose your head. Control your breathing. Patient. Not gonna be able to do it all at once. Fuck. Dark. Goddamnit I can’t fucking breathe. (thrashing: nothing. panicking. helpless frustration. darkness.) Get your shit together. Use your head. One step at a time. Leg’s free. Use it. Wait. Breathe. Calm down. 

(within a few seconds) You’re going to fucking die with your head buried under three feet of snow. You’ve skied and snowboarded and done all kinds of other stupid shit your whole life and this is going to be what does it. (hyperventilating) A month and a half of waiting, begging for snow and when it finally comes you catch an edge and fucking die. Another news story people will talk about for three days saying, “Fucking gaper riding outside his abilities, couldn’t handle deep snow” “That’s why you don’t ride without a beacon” “You can’t lose your head in tough situations. I could’ve kept myself calm and gotten out of that shit.” (desperately struggling to get out and breathe: no progress/short fevered breaths, inhaling ice) Goddamnit you’re going to kill yourself. There is no reason I can’t get out of this unless I lose my shit like an indoor cocksucker. You’ve thought a lot about avalanches and what you’d do if you got caught in one. Good thing you’ve got that fucking lighter in your pocket so you can tell which way is up and simultaneously use most of the little oxygen available to you. (hopeless) Up is fucking up. You just can’t get there….. 

Goddamnit Ian, get your life together. You’re not going to die unless you let it happen. You’ve gotta relax and take your time. If you rush you’ll suffocate. Don’t push yourself. Breathe. Be proactive. Be positive. Use your fucking brain. 

Find another branch. Good. Thicker, stronger. Breathe. Can’t rush. Not enough air. Lungs compressed. Be patient. Calm down first. Ready. Pull. All your weight plus several feet of snow with your left arm….push with your leg. Twist. Get your leg under you. A little progress! (breaks) Godfuckingdamnit I gotta get out of this shit I can’t calm myself down again (desperation.thrashing.struggling) no one would find me and I couldn’t wait that long if they did….you’re going to suffocate gotta relax you can’t fucking do this if you lose your head. I’m losing my fucking head (shortest breaths).

Ok ok ok ok. Breathe. Slow. Calm. Breathe slowly. People survive avalanches. That would be so much worse. Losing your shit does nothing except make you suffocate. Fuck. I can’t do this much longer. You’ve felt this kind of thing before. It’s like getting stuck in a mummy bag when you feel like you gotta get out right then. It’s not a big deal and you can get out and struggling makes it way worse. Goddamnit this is horrible. Solve the problem. Be deliberate. I made progress last time. I will get out. But I can’t rush. 

Higher. New branch. This is a good branch. Grab right at the trunk. I’m gonna get my leg under me then all I gotta do is stand up. Breathe. Patient. Calm. Ready. Pull. Goddamnit pull! Move right leg. Use board to push on the snow. Left leg under. (hyperventilating) This is the one. Once I’m up it won’t matter. Fuck my lungs hurt. Use your fucking bicep, chicken-arms! Didn’t you use to rock climb?! Think you can still do a pull-up? Progress! I’m there! Can’t breathe. Just a little longer and you can breathe all you want. Right arm free! Up! Break the surface! Fuck, out of breath. Light!!! Twist and stand up! Use the tree! Thank you tree!! Air!!!!

(head up, standing, hugging tree, slump back down) Oh god that was horrible (over and over). Shoulder-wracking breaths. (sitting in the snow, head in hands on tree) 

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Hopped up, strapped in, shredded with extreme caution. Got to the bottom to my friends calling me, full of concern. 

New worst way to go out: getting caught conscious in an avalanche and slowly suffocating/freezing to death.

After two months without snow (not counting one instance a few weeks ago which delivered a paltry 8 inches or so, hardly enough to even mention (really just enough to make us realize how bad it sucks not to have snow)) I finally rode in some dick-deep powder. About goddamn time.

It’s a white-out and it’s awesome. We’ve gotten 10 additional inches or so since I got to work this morning. I’ll gladly trade an hour or two shoveling for these conditions.

For you gapers who aren’t familiar with the jargon, face shots are (in this case) when you make a turn and can’t see for a second because there’s so much snow that it clouds up in front of you, the result of which can be seen here: could be seen here if I could make the picture be not upside down. Deal with it. Imagine me on a chair lift with a shit-eating grin on my face, snow and ice caked to my beard/’stache in the midst of a galing snowstorm. It’s a really good picture.

Also, there is no clear end in sight. Dick-deep may have been a slight exaggeration this time, but I may soon have an opportunity to legitimately brush my goods against the snow. Fingers crossed.

Now I just have to make it home…..

Xoxo

Fucking righeous.

fuckyeahtattoos:

My badass Contra tattoo!  If you’re a child of the 80’s then you know what this is all about!  Work done by Brian Wren at 3rd Eye Tattoo in Park Slope Brooklyn. 

For a few weeks we have had an unwelcome visitor rumbling around in the walls of our house, pulling out garbage, taking tiny bites of produce, scurrying. Dan was watching a movie and he looks over to see this little turd kicking it on the stove top, nibbling on a handful of snacks. He decides against throwing the hatchet at it. Turns out it’s some kind of ground squirrel with the craziest teeth made for chewing through shit or maybe just accessing nuts. 

We decide it’s time to be proactive and show freeloading squirrel friend who’s in charge. Dan borrows a pellet gun from his friend (a 357 magnum replica no less). First night we try a deadfall made out of half a chopstick, a milk crate, and some old banana bread tied to a piece of paracord. Fails. Next night we add a 25 lb weight to the mix in order to ensure no escaping once the trap has sprung. I also put up some good old-fashioned pole snare-style traps on the back of the stove with seeds spread around them to encourage proper neck placement within the noose structure. 

No action for a couple of days other than the food being gone, traps undisturbed. So last night I reset everything, placing nuts a bit more deliberately. I also set up another deadfall using my toolbox, a half a chopstick, the 25 lb weight, and a teaball full of sunflower seeds. I think this one is pretty hot shit. (I don’t know why we didn’t photographically document these adventures)

In the middle of the night I’m jarred from sleep by the sounds of struggle as our poor little squirrel friend chokes himself out, hanging by the neck from a loop of expertly-placed 22-gauge snare wire. For all you bleeding-hearts, the whole ordeal was over in a matter of seconds. He was dead before I could even get out of bed. Shortly thereafter it’s the three of us dudes standing in the kitchen in our underwear amazed at the fact that this shit actually worked.

Still in a sleepy-eyed daze I’m not exactly in a state to clean the little guy so I set him outside (more than half hoping some coyotes will find an easy snack). He’s on ice so he should keep pretty well. If he’s still there after work I may have to make some one squirrel-skin mittens and some stew. 

First time ever intentionally killing something. Part of me wanted to drink its blood like in Red Dawn but the vast majority of me didn’t want to get parasites. I feel overall pretty positive about the whole experience. If I do clean it I’ll make bone necklaces for everyone. Also maybe a Rufio-style shirt……for something very small.

Sometimes when you’re living out here in the west you’ve gotta protect your own. You can’t just go through life complacently, letting little jackass squirrels take bites out of your bacon grease stash. I need that shit for my eggs. 

Ian 1, High Sierra wildlife nothin’ (that is by no means a challenge, I very clearly understand that a mountain lion could soundly destroy me without too much effort)

I currently have three separate Tumblr drafts saved, each of which involve me complaining about some aspect of my life or some reason that it isn’t 100% right now. I’ve decided it’s time for that bullshit to stop. It’s time to sack up and get back to living in the moment and making sure that moment is totally worth it. Yeah money’s as tight as it’s ever been and it’s not likely to get better anytime soon and yeah I miss my friends but goddamn; time to stop being a whiny bitch (in a quick Google search of whiny the second result is the urbandictionary definition of “whiny bitch”). 

Maybe it has to do with sitting in the sun in the village at Squaw Valley in a t-shirt because it’s like 50 degrees outside or maybe it’s because it’s a holiday weekend and it’s packed and everyone is happy and I’m drinking beers during my lunch break and I got free pizza but I feel totally awesome for the first time in kind of a while. I think I just made it over the hump or something. (Slight correction: this doesn’t apply to the week and a half of visitors I just had. I had a freaking blast and was really stoked the whole time. That might be part of it too. I’m back to no visitors and I feel fanfuckingtastic! I think they helped me realize just what I’ve got going here and, while I miss home, it just means there are people in other parts of the country that I love and can go visit.) I feel confident and stoked and just this same minute met a new seemingly sweet Squaw Valley employee who sat down at the table here in the sun and struck up a conversation. I haven’t said it with sincerity for a fair bit but I’m living the goddamn dream! I love you all!

Xoxoxoxoio