“The sky is pitch black; the ground is bright white. You shuffle your board to the edge, lean forward. You’re instantly speeding out of control. The hard-packed snow is chattering through the board, up your legs, through your chest, till your eyes are trembling around in your skull. At this speed, if you check, you’re dead. You catch an edge; you eat a tree. In the darkness you can’t see the terrain — there’s no definition.”
More: Clipping Tickets
Source sevenstrangeyears.com
“When I told a girl in the locker room that I got first tracks down I-Beam, she said: “Riding Pow is better than sex.” I told her she must be doing it wrong. But I think she might be right – Maybe I’m doin’ it wrong?”
Source sevenstrangeyears.com
February 15, 1999
Phoenix, AZ.
Dear Robert,
I saw some truly unbelievable shit last night. I thought the drugs had worn off by the time I staggered to the door this morning. The daily paper beat me home. I must still be tripping: Over 70 million dollars spent on the Clinton investigation. And they couldn’t even pin something on old slick Willy – How pathetic. I guess they did pin him as the president who got off on shoving cigars in the snat… That is not a vision my mind can handle in this state. Not after last night…
I was sitting shotgun in the Hyundai, Megan was driving, and my two new friends from work, Ian and Sebastian, were in the back. Ian and Sebastian are bartenders and roommates. This was our first time hanging outside of work. We were on our way to get rolls. Ian has a “guy.” Ian’s this pudgy little half-wit-goof-ball from the Deep South – he talks real slow. Sebastian’s a fast-talking Brit with a crude sense of humor. I have no idea how they came to be roommates, but the banter between them is always hysterical. They were in the back seat arguing about whose “guy” he was as well as how to get to his house. It was supposed to be a 20-minute drive. We drove around in circles for an hour listening to arguments on who met the “guy” first. Megan was smiling, but she was definitely not happy. My buzz was wearing off and the banter was no longer amusing. I was trying to come up with a way to call off the goose chase, without sounding like a pussy, when all of the sudden Ian violently shook my seat, “That’s it!” He was jumping up and down pointing to this extremely fancy townhome complex – far too nice to be any drug dealer’s house. Maybe I’m just used to the trailer courts in Pequot – there were no security gates there.
Source sevenstrangeyears.com
January 28, 1999
Phoenix, AZ.
Dear Dean,
Living with people is hard to do. If I were you, I would never move out of your parent’s apartment. You have it made. Megan has been down here less than a month and the fuse is burning short. It’s my fault. I saddled Tommy with a roommate he didn’t want and he never agreed to. They’re like a couple of rabid badgers when left alone.
The three of us have had some epic adventures. Yesterday started with all the makings: The three of us had the whole day off together – plus today. That’s rare these days. Megan went straight for the pool. Tommy and I began our day with a bike adventure – we hadn’t been since Megan came. We thrashed around the neighborhood like the carefree days before Tommy started school. After racing down our favorite spiral parking ramp, Tommy and I swung a strange sharp left instead of our normal right. We found this rad office building with this perfectly slanted slate granite wall. If you got just enough speed bombing the grassy hill you could launch off the granite wall, over the stairwell, and ramp down off the picnic table on the other side. I bent my sprocket and rear wheel, again. I’ve already had to have my rear wheel pressed straight three times – shit’s expensive. Anyway, after a hard couple hours, we returned with the thirst. We joined Meagan at the pool. We quickly drained our supplies. Tommy and I buzzed up to the grocery store in Megan’s car. Our mission was to gather barbecue supplies: Beer, Booze and Beef. You can get all that at the grocery store here – none of that 3:2 bullshit. We crashed our carts up and down every aisle. We made no friends. It was my treat; we filled the carts – isn’t that what credit’s for?
After grilling up some ribeyes in the courtyard we retired to the apartment. I charged an electronic dartboard a while back – we’ve been getting pretty competitive lately. The game was on. The lady above our apartment had tweaked Tommy’s last nerve the night before. She has a baby that cries all throughout the night. I don’t hear it, but it drives Tommy batty. Anyway, two nights ago — at about 2 a.m. — he finally went up and chewed her ass. She told him to piss off. Last night we cranked the stereo in retaliation. This morning we received another noise complaint – we really showed her. Anyway, we were drinkin’, rockin’ out, and playin’ darts; we were truly enjoying each other’s company. And that’s when everything went sideways. Megan, one dart away from taking the championship, missed the 16 she needed by two holes. One of Megan’s college classes was Kickboxing – Megan dropkicks the air whenever she misses a critical shot. On this unfortunate occasion, she was too close to the wall. Her little black combat boot was stuck in the sheetrock.
Source sevenstrangeyears.com
January 2, 1999
Phoenix, AZ.
Dear Robert,
Happy New Year! Wish I rang it in with you. If I had, I would surely have partaken in some deranged act that would be worthy a resolution – I’ve got nothing. My New Year’s celebration, I’m sure, was far less thrilling – more on that later. First off, thank you for introducing me to the Green Pony. That little guy gave me one hell of a ride. You made Saint Cloud feel like the place to be. I think my favorite flashback is tripping around the parking lot while some liquor-crazed homeboy chased me with a cinder block. If you need a break from the Minnesota cold you should definitely head south. I can’t guarantee Green Ponies and liquor-crazed homies, but if there’s any fun to be had in this dry town, I’m sure the two of us could dig it up.
I fled Minnesota with visions of an epic New Year’s celebration driving my heel. I was sure Tommy had something special waiting for us. We had to make Phoenix by New Year’s Eve. There was no time to spare on site seeing – no money to spare for lodging. I stomped on Megan’s little red Hyundai with little resistance from the road. What little sleep we got was in the car. We rattled into town JUST in time. I told Tommy I would arrive sometime on the 29th. We got slightly sidetracked in a couple national parks – the mountains of Northern Arizona are amazing. We arrived late on the 31st. Tommy was not happy with me. His plan was ruined. “We should have left the house an hour ago.”
We were right back on the road. I relinquished the driver’s seat to Megan, offered shotgun to Tommy – he declined – and the three blind mice rattled out into the big bad city. Tommy and I were cracking beers before we left the parking lot. Soon after, despite his best efforts, I caught Tommy enjoying himself – he was really digging not being the semi-sober driver. From the moment Megan and I walked into the apartment he had made it glaringly obvious that he was very unhappy with me for moving Megan in. He quickly turned away when I spotted him smiling, but I could tell by the look on his face he was beginning to think this just might be a good thing. The next thing I knew we had reached our destination: The Fiesta Bowl Block Party in Tempe. Tommy didn’t have many details, but it was New Year’s Eve in a college town!
Source sevenstrangeyears.com
I'm a writer... Everything else is research.
Connoisseur of all things interesting, weird and strange. Snowboarder and adventure seeking fiend.
My current project, Seven Strange Years, is an epistolary novel that tells the outrageous tales of a young man roaming the country in search of him self.
You'll see some of the strange letters shared here. You can also get the full story at SevenStrangeYears.com
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