country roads, take me home.

Just got back from physical therapy. Positives: my knee is bending better and the therapist said I can start walking around my apartment without the crutches.

Negatives: we cant figure out why the back of my knee hurts so damn bad.  I am having very sharp pains not just the hamstring graft site, but what feels like every single strand of fiber on the backside of my knee.

Its hard to stay motivated. I have been pretty depressed and the pain meds, the constant necessity to lie down, and the unquenchable thirst for sleep aren’t helping.

I still haven’t been able to master sleeping on my back, so I haven’t been sleeping much. Sleeping on my side usually results in a throbbing pain around th graft site. The ACL (and my new fake acl) has no nerve endings so i assume most of the pain revolves around the meniscus and the graft.

either way, life sucks. I wish it were summer, 2005.

Thinking of Fiji.

So on March 9th, I was riding my bmx bike at the trails and I severed my ACL and badly tore my meniscus.  I had the surgery done on march 25th by Dr. Paul Caldwell at Tuckahoe Orthopaedics.

Heres a picture from the 7th day, after the bandages and some of the stitches were taken out.

What I am trying to tell you people is that I need somewhere to write about this whole experience which has probably been the worst month of my life.

At this point, April 9th, I have completed 4 days of physical therapy at Richmond PT with Rick Herod who conveniently was in my dads class in school and his son was in mine.

Everything has been going along slowly.  With an injury like this it is millimeter by millimeter.

if you really want to know what they did to me.. watch this video:

Friday night at alley katz!

I’m counting on the anti-histamine so I can breathe.
I’m choking on opinion. I’m coughing up conceit. Ha Ha Ha. Just try to throw that back at me!

CAUTION:

the solid ground that you are on will slide from under you.

kids of the black hole.

You know, I have been called immature plenty of times. I don’t even really mind it anymore. Actually, in some ways I feel it is almost a compliment when you compare the insult to the person who is issuing it. Why would I want to grow up and slow down when i’m only a quarter of the way through my average life expectancy. I have so many places to see. So many people to meet. I’ll grow up later.

depression

…is a curse of our self-awareness.

home sweet home.

well i’m back to being my usual debbie downer self. its silent and gray outside and it’s sunday. who would have thought.

ziggurat

Today I realized something pretty nice about myself. I noticed that I was smiling to people on the street, in stairwells, in line, etc. etc..

That may not seem like that big of a deal, but thats a pretty monumental thing for me especially compared to the last few years of my life. These days, I honestly want to see people do well. I was watching the steelers game the other day with some friends and when a guy got tackled really hard, instead of laughing, I said “oh fuck!” and not in a condescending way. I think this might have to do with some general satisfaction with the direction my life has been going lately. Of course, like everyone else, I have my moments/days where I am a huge disappointment. All in all, though, i think I have grown by leaps in the last several years. My eyes have finally been open to what life means. Life to me means letting nature do what it does. But while i’m here, why not try to experience as much of it as possible and try to be happy while doing it. Being happy doesn’t mean working all day to buy some stupid TV that wont mean anything next month when the new version comes out and mine is obsolete. Friends, hobbies and experience. What makes you more happy? 1) A day at work 2) a day on your bicycle exploring a new city.

That question may seem sort of an extreme simplification of what it means to be alive, but think about it. It really isn’t.  Basically what i’m saying is “live more, work less”.

I’ve lived a pretty fortunate life, really. I’ve had the privilege of travel and been able to experience plenty of different cultures. I found a passion for understanding life through some fairly alternative learning which has lead me in some pretty awesome directions. Sure, I’ve failed miserably at plenty of things, and those things are what shaped me into what I am. I know I am a negative nancy sometimes, but really how can you not be. I’m not a taoist monk. I wouldn’t trade my darkest days for anything. They will always be a shadow and who is a person without a shadow.

The sun is still shining, shining, shining, shining over the James.

Why would I want to associate with people who judge me by a choice I made which affects only myself.

I will do what I want, thanks.

And right now, I want to hang out in the woods and dig trails. That has sort of been my life lately. I go to school and think about being on my bike. I gave myself a four day weekend every weekend just so I could sit in the woods and dig, ride, or watch friends ride. School, home, and life have been pretty weird so I feel like I have buried myself down there to keep my mind away from everything that stresses me out. This winter is going to suck once its too wet and cold to work on them and ride.

Speaking of the trails, they have come a long fucking way in only a couple months. Lots of dudes have been shredding what is open right now though. Bob and everyone were throwing some huge stuff over the step-up on the Downers line. Steve, Mike and Kitt have been riding Speedway which is finally open. Speedway is a pretty gnarly line. It started off as this tiny little “lets keep it mellow” sort of line, and ended up pretty ridiculous once Mike got a hold of it.

Steve Crandall started work on a new line that I am really excited about as well. We’ve been putting some work into that and now that it has rained a couple times and the dirt is packed down some we can start to shape them a little more. Unfortunately, that rain definitely blew our hopes of being able to ride some other stuff that was almost ready.

Thats how it goes. Im glad we started working on these this fall. After this winter the jumps are going to be hard as rocks.

Can’t wait.

picture sponsored by fbmbmx.com

i’m in it so i’ll damn well use it.

Obama for ya momma!

“….And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.” – November 4th, 2008.

Those were the words of the new president-elect Barack Hussein Obama II. Last night was a monumental time in our history. When we are old, we might be able to tell of how we watched when CNN first broke the news. We can tell our kids about the celebrations in the streets. And our children may be forced to memorize Obama’s speech. In the end, to me this election was one big FUCK YOU to the way things have been done in this nation for far too long. It is a “fuck you” to all the racists and the inbred-trash who refused to vote for him just because of the color of his skin. This election was a “fuck you” to our parents and to all the sheltered “american dream”er types around the nation, living in their suburbs where they can hide from the problems their politicians are making for all those who weren’t given the same chances. This election is the culmination of a different American dream.  The dream for people who can see the ruin of our nation and yet, still recognize its potential for a rebound. The victory of Barack Obama proved that the dice are still in the hands of Americans. John McCain is a great politician and has served this nation for most of his life. He has many loyal and devoted fans who although I do not agree with their vision, I can respect their determination. I can only hope that the service of our next president can help to open the eyes to the necessity of rebuilding our nation. It will be an exciting journey.

The superhuman they call Mike Aitken.

You know, I have an Odyssey Aitken tire on the front wheel of my bike.

That is about all the association I have with him. He was just a really good rider to me, who I respected for his style and the fact that he could shut down any spot that he rode. Unfortunately, Mike took a really hard fall a few weeks ago and put himself into a coma. The overflow of sincere concern for his well being from the BMX community quickly changed my attitude for the man. Kids all over the country and the world have been putting together benefit jam’s at their local skateparks and trails to raise money for his medical bills which will surely be enormous. T-shirts have been printed and donations given. But more important than money, people are trying to show their appreciation and support for a person who loves the game and has influenced tons of riders. All their effort has not gone unseen by Mike who has returned the favor with contant improvement and positivity in the hospital. Just today, despite his condition, Mike was able to briefly lift himself out of his wheelchair and even make a wish in the fountain outside the hospital. In case of confusion, coma’s have varying levels of severity and Mike has probably seen all of them since he was first admitted to the hospital. His return to his current state began with simple movement of fingers and thumbs up. He still has extremely limited mobility with his right side, and his ability to communicate is still difficult.

His website, mikeaitken.com has been updated nearly everyday with news for those who cant be in the hospital to see the progress he has made. Most recently, his aunt said something that really stood out to me.

“Hey Mike!
You are truly amazing! I was just telling your mom that I didn’t think a lot of the fans understood that you aren’t superhuman, and you go and be it! I knew you were strong and courageous, but I guess I had no idea HOW strong and courageous you really are!”

This little snippet struck a string with me. It really shows the opposite side of the relationships we have with our friends and the relationships we have with our families.

You can view the updates at MikeAitken.com

Stay positive.

Here is a little video from his part in Electronical. It is also the video part that secured him as my favorite trail rider.

Sometimes, I guess there’s just not enough rocks.

I love Forrest Gump more than almost any real person I have ever known. Last night at a party a bunch of us engaged in an argument over Forrest’s relationship with Jenny Curran (I bet you didn’t know that was her last name).  I have long said that Jenny is the worst person of all time. Forrest deserves so much better than a tramp like her. I understand you are supposed to hate her or whatever, but seriously, fuck Jenny.  Yeah so what he isn’t a genius, Forrest’s drill sargeant might argue against that opinion, but god damnit was he deserving of someone who could see him as more than a fallback. I am getting so heated right now that I can’t even discuss the topic anymore. So I will reiterate my previous statement of “fuck her”. I mean come on Jenny, he named all of his shrimp boats after you. And all you do for him is bang him out and then abandon him for 5 years? You crawl back, steal his heart again, marry him, and then die.

P.S. Apparently the author of Forrest Gump wrote a screenplay called Gump & Co. which was supposed to be made into a second movie. Unfortunately, legal disputes prevented it’s production temporarily. Reports say that there is still debate going on as to whether or not the movie will get made. Apparently Forrest will be playing football for the New Orleans Saints, designing a new coke, crashing the exxon valdez, destroying the berlin wall, and fighting in Operation Desert Storm. He may all be meeting Saddam Hussein, Ronald Reagan, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Ollie North, and Ivan Boesky.

I sort of hope it doesn’t happen, but if it does you bet your ass I will be the first in line to see it.

Crossing Wires

 I woke up not knowing where I was, which is always a startling experience. I could hear my mother downstairs doing the dishes and the collar on my dog clinking as he tried to reach an itch on his face. The city has changed a lot since i moved away. Of course I have been back to visit, but always as a tourist. It’s a little different coming back as a citizen. I spent the first few days drifting, meeting with friends and trying to get in touch with the ones who survived the tide of the past year. The humidity and stillness of the city is hard to embrace. Slowly I started to really realized what had happened to the city I used to, and will now, call home. I don’t blame anyone in particular, mostly because I have learned that it is in my nature to come off sounding pompous even when my intentions are humble.  In a way, I regret leaving this town. I love Boston, but I think I was running away. I ran from problems and I thought they were gone. Then they came back, and this time I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. Through all of this, I lost a lot of friends and made plenty of others who I will never forget, but that is all part of the experience. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Why Blackpool? is almost done.

I have about 14 pages worth of stuff.

I think I might start posting the story by chapter once a week.

send me an email if you are interested in reading some of it and giving me feeedback before anyone else gets to make fun of me.

freeyourself@gmail.com

Why I love Andrew Jackson

One of my favorite presidents in American History, Andrew Jackson is truly a bad ass. The third son of Scots-Irish parents, Andrew was born in the southern half of the soon to be United States. His father died in a logging accident shortly before his birth and his mother raised her son’s in South Carolina at her sisters home. During the American Revolution, Jackson was only nine, yet volunteered as a courier. One of his brothers was killed during the war and later he and his other brother became prisoners of the British for several weeks. A slash from the saber of a British Officer resulted in deep resentment towards the nation. He carried his anger until his death.

The man people called “Old Hickory” was probably the biggest character in American political history, followed closely by both Roosevelts. Elected in 1828, Jackson actually scared his fellow politicians because of his methods and his blatant disregard for laws. People used to have such awesome nicknames, in Andrew Jacksons case, the name came to him, depending on who you ask, because of his tendency to beat people with his hickory cane. Furthermore, Jackson was an avid fan of dueling and according so legitimate sources, he participated in thirteen. On one occasion, a man named Charles Dickinson was invited to duel with the president. Always the good sport, Jackson actually allowed Dickinson to have the first shot, resulting in a bullet which remained lodged in his chest for years to come. After the bullet stopped two inches from his heart, the president countered and ended the life of Mr. Dickinson.

Jackson was also the first president to receive an assassination attempt when Richard Lawrence used two pistols which both misfired. The odds of both pistols misfiring is somewhere around 1:125,000. Following the attempt, Old Hickory furthered the legend of his nickname by pummeling Mr. Lawrence to near death.

Before his death, Jackson gave his most famous quote as he reflected on his life’s achievements:

“I have only two regrets: I didn’t shoot Henry Clay and I didn’t hang John C. Calhoun.”

If you didn’t know, Calhoun was Jackson’s vice president.

During the writing of this blog, I discovered a little piece of information I found to be hilarious. Ulysses S. Grant, while in office, received a twenty dollar ticket for speeding on his horse. He was forced to walk home to the white house.

O brave new world.

“But the tears are necessary. Don’t you remember what Othello said? ‘if after every tempest came such calms, may the winds blow till they have wakened death.’ There’s a story one of the old Indians used to tell us, about the Girl of Mataski. The young men who wanted to marry her had to do a mornings hoeing in her garden. It seemed easy; but there were flies and mosquitoes, magic ones. Most of the young men simply couldn’t stand the biting and stinging. But the one that could-he got the girl.”

“Charming! But in civilized countries,” said the Controller,”you can have girls without hoeing for them; and there aren’t any flies or mosquitoes to sting you. We got rid of them centuries ago.”

The Savage nodded, frowing. “You got rid of them. Yes, that’s just like you. Getting rid of everything unpleasant instead of learning to put up with it. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them. But you don’t do either. neither suffer nor oppose. You just abolish the slings and arrows. It’s too easy.”

.

.

“I like the inconveniences,” the savage continued.

“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things confortably.”

“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.

“In fact, then, you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“All right then, ” said the savage defiantly. “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.” There was a long silence.

“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last.

Uncontacted tribe in the amazon.

In case you don’t read the news, The Guardian ran a story today about a plane surveying the Amazon jungle which discovered a tribe yet to be contacted. The news about this made me sort of upset in a way. This tribe managed to go undisturbed by western civilization for so long and now, right-wing christians, governments and anti-hunger/poverty organizations will have their way with these people until they are just as fucked up as the rest of the world. So while I am excited that there are still people out there living their own culture, I know that this discovery has doomed their way of life. I can hear the sound of a cash register dinging in the minds of businessmen all over. Next month there will be a McDonalds and a Starbucks, U2 will play a show in the big hut in the middle.

your friends say bostons beautiful

I will probably be moving back to Richmond this fall. School has taken priority over my quest to live in as many places as possible. Its not that I don’t want to live in Virginia with my family and friends, but I can’t help from feeling like it will mean failure. Crawling back to Richmond with my tail between my legs. I am looking into single bedroom and efficiency apartments just because I realized that in order to get good grades I need some privacy, not to mention having roommates is stressful. Now that I am nearing the last year and a half of school, I need to keep up the momentum I built this past fall and spring.

This I will miss about Boston:

I am sort of getting tired of trying to find pictures of things I like about here. I will just say that New England is a very different place from the Richmond.

bringing it backwards

a few people really need to be in this picture

Dive

Head on forearms, a lonely seat at the bar. Four quarters got Tears For Fears three times. The other patrons could fuck themselves. Winter is almost over. Support global warming.

Your ghost takes flight.

Years ago, I sat on a bench at VCU and told a girl that I had burned every picture of us together. I thought that was what you were supposed to do when you hate someone. I actually ripped one in half, but I couldn’t make myself do it to the rest of them. A real romantic would probably burn them. Once I realized that everything that ever happens is probably my fault, I was still too juvenile to believe it.  I sat on the floor of my room tonight, cleaning under my bed and sofa. I reached to the back and pulled out the Vans shoebox containing every memory I have left of that time period in my life.  I slid the box into the bag of all the things it was time to let go of. 

 

It’s almost summer though, so I can’t wait to get back into laying around at Puddingstone park all day.

fuck what fireworks stand for.

Meanwhile, I am stuck on the dream that life will improve, that my actions will have purpose and that the relationships I make are mutually beneficial. I am waiting for my turn to be successful, my chance to be happy. I have given up the false perception that I have never been the popular kid because of the misjudgment of others and instead adopted the reality that my actions speak louder than words. I don’t want anyones sympathy, I only want to feel what everyone else feels. I need to know if it is the world who misunderstands me, or if I misunderstand the world. I want to feel satisfied with choices I’ve made. I want health. I want the comfort I felt when I was a kid. I want to know that my life has a meaning. I want to know that I was important to someone and not just a way to spend time, or fill a void left by someone else. I want to believe when people tell me it’s not my fault. Is it wrong to think that nothing will turn out right? Maybe I am just taking this whole “growing up” thing a little hard. Lately, I have started to become more and more comfortable with being unaccompanied. I think the reason for this is my dependence on a lack of a variation in opinion. I have always been a stubborn bastard, quick to jump on the mistakes of others without examining the faults of my own. Thats life.

Why Blackpool?

This entry is not sad or depressing really. Don’t read if you are expecting words to make you cut your wrist. So I have been writing this really mediocre short story for a few days now. It is called Why Blackpool. So far I have written about 11 pages worth of words. I have been on sort of a literary binge lately. I have been reading ALOT and am really enjoying it.

I also bought a quite large sheet of foam board. Unfortunately, we were not able to transfer it home in Adam’s car and we had to cut it in half. I am making it into a large push pin style bulletin board. Documenting pictures and letters and other things that are interesting or memorable. I am pretty excited about it. My life has been taking a very strange course lately. Taking me through a little bit of monotony, but when it’s been fun, it’s been very fun.

Went to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall tonight. Funniest fucking movie.

I did not take this picture.

last train…

There was a time in my life when I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do. When I stepped outside of my front door I understood everything. I could walk with purpose and stepped over cracks in the sidewalk subconsciously. All I remember from those days are sunny afternoons, phone calls from Ashton and Strawberry Street Market. Today I walked out of my second floor apartment door into the light purple and green stairwell taking me down to the crumbling sidewalk which paves the way to the E train. I sat down in a seat in a corner of the last car and kept my head down to avoid conversation. A gray eyed man of maybe 60 sat down across from me, putting the two grocery bags he was carrying in the seat next to him. One bag was filled with small tin cans which I suspect were tuna and another bag with half a dozen loaves of bread. I looked up and stared into his face and it was cracked like the face of someone who has seen more fucked up shit than I could ever imagine. I pulled out the pack of citrus flavored gum I had picked up at the C-Store at Emerson College the day before. I gave myself a piece, locked eyes with the guy and offered him one. He said to me “Thank you, but I don’t like oranges”.

(this post was written in november)

the power of the press.. to edit letters

Whatever, they got the general point i guess.

Just because Tibet was under the control of “cruel dictators” prior to the 1951 invasion by China, doesn’t justify the fact that there is an Apartheid system in place against the common people.

Where did everyone go?

It is really weird sometimes to look back into your past. When I was 14 and 15, the group of people that we hung out with who were involved in Richmond Hardcore was completely different. The same attitude was there, just different faces. I was rereading the post below this one, about Think Ahead, and it sort of hit me that Ashton, Charles Efird and myself are essentially the only ones left. A crew about twenty deep has been reduced to three. Sure, others are still around in an orbital sense, but at United Blood it was only us few. Our lives have taken paths that I would have never considered at the age of fourteen. BRC, if you never heard of it, stood for Borda Reta Crew. The idea for this name came from the fact that at the time I had a foreign exchange student from Brazil living with me and borda reta is Portugese for straight edge. Man that crew was a wierd group. Every friday night, it was the Harton household basement. The older kids used the basement as their clubhouse as well and I think its safe to say they we were pretty much terrified of them.

Life has gone from fights with the Russian’s at prep-sev, throwing fireworks at cars, driving through front yards (once we were 16), watching Ashton get his first kiss, friends hooking up with each others girlfriends and lunches with freeman friends when I was kicked out of school to living in a new region of the country and going to war in europe, we have come a pretty long way. We should all be dead by now.

How sweet is that picture of Ashton?

Think Ahead

Want to see pictures of my first band? I was about 16 years old when Ashton and I decided to form Think Ahead. Notice how big the dead serious hoodie is.

The band was comprised of the two Will’s (front), Ashton and I, and the drummer named Zaid.

do you guys remember when I fucked my face up really bad?

We weren’t very good.

We made about 200000 different demo tapes and I think Chris Bradshaw had the only surviving copy at one point. Oh well, I don’t know why exactly I wanted to post about this band but, it was a pretty awesome time period of my life.

Scott is a hypocrite

So at this moment I am laying on an air mattress on the floor of my friends apartment. A girl and a boy are asleep head-on-chest in the beds of both rooms and therefore, too far to walk home this late, I made camp in the hallway. I just heard something moving in the ceiling. I took off most of my clothes as its fairly hot in here, but I know I’m going to be freezing by about 5 am. The window in the hall is open and a fan is sucking in air to quell the stuffiness of winter life in Massachusetts. Sometimes you are just in the mood to think and despite the people lying in beds giggling behind the walls, I am feeling pretty melancholy. Do you know what I’m getting at here? When you lay in bed staring at the ceiling doing the thinking that makes you question relationships with girls or the direction you’re going with your life. Well tonight I figured out that I am the biggest hypocrite I know. I love to talk about how we have too little time to be negative, but I think its just a subconscious refusal to admit my faults to myself. I try not to be an advocate of “do as I say not as I do” teaching methods, but I never said I was perfect either. A deontological theorist like Kant would commend my efforts to bring subconscious problems into real-time.

Today I rode bmx bikes with Adam around the back bay and south end of Boston in an effort to take advantage of a fifty two degree sun soaked afternoon. As I successfully wrecked in every attempt to feeble the ledge at Back Bay Station, Adam came straight forward with me when he announced that my grinds were all wrong and that I should relearn them now before I pick up the habit of incorrect angling. “Your balance is way wrong because of the angle you approach the ledge” he said to me,”just go in more straight.” What an ambiguous thing to say.

two thousand and great

another year, 365 wasted days.
scott, the selfish, drunk, insensitive shithead.

Today I saw a glimmer of something fresh and exciting. I had a pretty good day as of the time this sentence was written.

I miss the days when I was ignorant to the differences between all of my friends. When everyone got along and “better than you” attitudes were only displayed against frat kids, not among “friends”. What makes you better than the next person? What a bunch of jock bullshit.

to all of my friends who live a real life, worrying about themselves and their friends, living to their own standards and appreciating what others have found: you are the lucky ones. Its 2008, we don’t have enough time for negativity. Frustration and depression will get the best of us.
“watch me rise”

nobody loves us

People think all we do
is lie around and think
of how rich we’d be
if we didn’t think life could improve
And we just can’t wait to make more mistakes
And we just can’t wait till the whole thing blows up in our face
Call us home
kiss our cheeks
Nobody loves us.
Dab-hands at trouble.
With four days of stubble, we are.
So, never loosen the grip on our hand.
Call us home, make our tea.
Nobody loves us