THE ART OF REBELLION.

Apparently I'm not famous enough to get my name listed on the poster.

But I'm over it.

February 7th.

One night only.

11 amazing artists, 11 custom painted Sportster tanks being auctioned off by people with names that matter.

Oh, and my photos on the walls.

Get into it...

If I don't hate you, I hope you're there.

Learn more where the press is talkin' about it...

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Format Magazine

Cats.

I'm pretty sure that at one point or another after starting this blog, I promised someone that they'd never have to look at photos of my kids.

That's an easy promise to keep, as I have no kids.  But I promised nothing about my cats.

I was just checkin' Seth's blog and it turns out that he, too, is a kitty lover...

Hi.  My name is Steven, and I love cats.  

Heidi and I have 3 --- 2 brothers - Sheriff Harry S. Truman and Indian Larry, who have been hangin' out for about 5 years now - and Seymour Monstertruck, the runt from a neighborhood stray who got knocked up about 2 years ago.  

We live in a pretty low-key, low-traffic area, so our boys spend a lot of time outside.  They own the street, for sure, and they're such efficient killers that I almost feel bad about how many dead things they leave on my porch... sometimes there'll be 2 bodies in a day.

Over the last couple years Heidi and I have had somewhere in the range of 25 kittens through our house - we take in litters when the neighborhood strays pop 'em out and make sure that they all find a good home...

Anyway.

I love cats.

Thanks, Seth, for standing up and declaring your feline affections... I know how it is, defending your kitty love when you hang out with rottweiler-macho dudes.

VIVA LOS GATOS!

Sheriff Harry S. Truman gettin' down with some soy milk.  He's much fatter now.

Indian Larry and an unlucky rodent.  I watched him play with this poor guy for an hour before he finally got bored, left him twitching and took off after some birds.

Seymour Monstertruck... notice the cast?  At about 6 months old this kid came home with a broken leg... no idea how he did it, but he has an affinity for tall trees.  My theory involves him takin' a dive outta the 30 footer in my front yard, because he kept getting stuck in it during the weeks preceding this accident.  Anyway, this guy is so sweet (for a killer) that when they heard about it, friends from all over ponied up and doled out almost 2 thousand dollars(!) to help pay for this guy's surgery so he didn't have to deal with gettin' his back leg lopped off.  Absolute insanity... it takes a pretty sweet face to pull off a caper like that.

My family, last year's Christmas card photo.

Of all the stray's we've brought in and found homes for, we've only lost one.  We gave him the best send-off we could.  RIP, Cap'n Cousteau.

Rain, finally.

I need a vacation.

It's finally raining.

Failed.

I lose.

Today was full of all kinds of bizarre retardation --- of course, I had no camera to capture any of it.

First, I'm broke.  I spent all my money on new equipment.  As a result, I'm still sharing my pickup with my girl.  When our schedules don't line up (which they rarely do) I end up rollin' the bus.

On today's bus adventure, the driver ran a red light and ended up taking out 3 cars.  I was in a hurry, so I hopped out the back doors and got to walkin'... no time for tom foolery.

Of course, my cameras were all in my office.

So I go about my day, and Jac and I end up needing to run to south Provo for some reason or another... en route, Jac shouts "Holy shit, we need to help that lady!"  I had no idea what he was talking about, but when he flipped his u-turn, I saw it --- some lady had tried to jump an iceberg in her jazzy chair, it didn't work, and she was laying face down in the gutter with her chair on top of her.  I jumped out of Jac's Jeep and ran back while he parked it...

"Are you okay?!"

Blank stare.  Remember, she's cheek to the street.  This is funny.

"What can I do?"

Still, no response.

"We need to get you out of the street... is it okay if I move you?"

Her eyes are blinking, she's looking at me, but she's not saying a word.

By now another car had pulled up, and Jac was running up.

Anyway, long story short, she was obviously missing a few crucial mental connections.  She just mumbled something about going to D.I. to see her sister, so we picked her up, righted her chair, collected the hundreds of band-aids she'd spilled all over the street, and followed her with our hazards on until she was safely in the D.I. parking lot...

Hilarious in such a non-PC way.

Again, cameras were all in the office.

Anyway...

I lose.

So here's a few unusable shots from last week that have nothing to do with anything.

Scotty.  The Bird.  Wind.

Laura, goin' for the slasher on the worst pow ever.  The sun and wind are bad for fluff.

Scotty has a super-smooth switch back 1.  Too bad this one was too small to make a worthwhile shot.  Don't worry, though - he's a trooper.  He hiked back up and charged it faster, but y'all don't get to see that one yet.

UPDATES...?

...coming soon.

Between shooting in Cancun, shooting a billboard at The Bird, shooting whatever shred I can fit in, trying to get prepped for the super-top-secret Santa Monica show, and dealing with a gila monster sized tumor of a sinus infection growing behind my left eye (antibiotics for 20 days... no beer, for real?!), I haven't had time to get anything new posted-up for all 3 of y'all who actually check this thing.

But they're coming... I promise.

While you wait, here's a shot from yesterday ---  Andrew and Scotty destroying their drop-in while Rosco P. Coltrane dutifully watches, ensuring that no more heinous "vandalism" goes on... not on his watch.

At least there were no tickets handed out... 

Interviewed...

Hey, y'all...

Just got back from Cancun - I'll whine about that later.

For now, get over to Jeremy Jones' website, theRealJeremyJones.com and check out the interview he did with me a week or two back.  Very cool of him... thanks, Jeremy.

http://www.therealjeremyjones.com/blog/

You say cliche, I say classic.

The rail gardens are one of the most played-out spots in Utah.

I won't even try to deny it.  

They've been in damn near every snowboard movie since Decade... or, at least that's what I'm told.  I don't keep up too much these days... I just have fun shredding when I can.

Anyway.

Got a call from some friends yesterday, so I scrounged up a vehicle (my truck shit-the-bed again), grabbed a bit of equipment, and headed north for the rail gardens.

They may be played, but that doesn't make them any less fun.

Jay Rueben gettin' all flexy on the 16 stair.  Dig it.

Drunkout.

Christmas is definitely not my favorite holiday.  

But there is an upside to this time of year.

My good friend Hyrum's parents moved about 15 miles away from me a few years back.

For the last few years, Hyrum and his lovely wife Pegah have made the trek from sunny LA to dirty Northern Utah to get down for some Christmas love.

And this is a fantastic thing.

This means that at least once a year I can look forward to a night of drunken bullshitting in my living room with Hyrum, Pegs, and Heidi, because it's usually too cold and shitty to go anywhere else.

And last night was no exception.

Drunken consumption for the sake of consuming, questionable stories of fear and loathing, and impromptu photo shoots utilizing high powered handguns and dirt-cheap beer are quickly becoming the norm.

Hyrum, I love ya', brother.

See you in February.  Your hood, same rules.

Back to work.

So Christmas was great, blah blah blah, got some deep pow, blah blah blah, cut a tree in half with my leg and now I can't walk, blah blah blah, client finally made selects and wants finals on Monday, blah blah blah...

Here's a frame from the Malibu shoot last month.  It wasn't on the client's selects list, nor were any others like it.

Clients never choose the right frames.

Oh well... no retouching for this one.  At least not until I feel like doing it on my own time. Which means never.

Hope y'all had a good holiday of your choosing.  

Now get back to work.  Your economy depends on it.

I'm officially old.

One of the few shots I have from my glory days of chasin' the gnar, courtesy of Co-Pilot Jangles... aka Strider.  Just diggin' through old shit, gettin' stoked for the weekend's forecast...

Brighton, circa 1999.  Almost 1/3 of my life ago.  God, I'm old.

Triple stoked... a little progress, finally.

So.  

Due to the recent surge in my work flow, I've had a total of exactly 13 minutes and 56 seconds to work on anything besides planning, shooting, or editing.

As a result, the Sporty has been down for waaaay too long. 

And, although I love the bagger for doing what it does, I'm kind of embarrassed to be seen on it - It's built for the 60-years-plus crowd who want to reclaim the rebellious youth they never had by feeling the wind in what's left of their glistening white hair while avoiding the bugs behind their tinted lexan windscreens.  Granted, I logged the most comfortable 8 thousand motorcycle-miles of my life on that bike this summer, but I really don't want to pull it out for less than 1,500 miles ever again.

Because the Sporty is where the fun lives.

Anyway.

I finally made it over to my good friend Sean's shop (Grim Cycle Salvage/Grim Metal Worx). 

The Sport-o still needs the rear fender hung, a sissy bar bent up, about 4 million tabs and standoffs, new tunnel, filler cap, petcock dumped out the side, and some engine work.  If you hire me and pay me ridiculous amounts of money, she'll be running an S&S hot Sporty kit... otherwise, she'll just be getting new gaskets and a little freshening up where needed. 

Being the incredibly bright fool I am, I decided I needed to cut a few inches out of an already way too small tank.  So, rather than getting the 90 miles to a tank I used to get, I'll now probably get 45 miles between stops.  Good thinking, me... you're a real smart guy - that's gonna prove to be really awesome on those flat-out desert hauls you love so much.

Hopefully Sean can help save my ass on this one.... since he is my official ass-saver.

Here I am, moments before lighting my shirt on fire and burning all the hair off my nipples...

And here's a sneak-peak at what her uber-chic spring 2009 runway look will be...

I'm really hoping to have her ready to run by the end of January... she needs to be good to go for super-top secret early February plans... more details on that as they become available.  Or maybe not.

Double Stoked.

The January issue of Snowboarder mag just hit shelves... go buy it.  Jeremy's gig, and I was stoked as hell to be a small part of it...  www.steezyrider.blogspot.com

Mom... this is the one you're looking for.

I know it's lame, but this is the raddest part.  I've had a lot of images in a fair number of mags, but this is the first time I've been listed on the contributors page.  It's nice to be listed in such good company.

Oh... and Benny --- you've always kicked ass for me.  Thanks for hookin' this up.  Everyone, shop at Milo Orem.

Stoked.

Just found my red Schaaf's while in Seattle... more on that soon.

(I have a sneaking suspicion that half the dudes I know will be rockin' these at the next man-day rally.)

The Set.

Outtake from The Build.

48 sleepless hours.

2 hours of shooting.

Still haven't slept....

Mobile, Alabama tomorrow... plane leaves in 4 hours.  

Louisville the next day.

I need a vacation.

A long way back from Hell.

So we're back from the SLC/Red Deer/Calgary/SLC/Charleston/SLC hell fest.  Too many hours on planes and in airports.  Really.

So... who'd of thunk it -  Beaufort, South Carolina has a pretty killer public skate park ruled by the Lords of the Flies, a gang of unkempt 12 year olds who kill it for real.  Maybe I'll post pics of those heathens later.  For now, here's a little tribute to our man in Pittsburgh, Mr. Alex R. Jones.

Thanks to Bradley for cuttin' a stencil for us...