Thursday, August 7, 2008


Wednesday, August 6, 2008


words by me
photos by iris ( cause i filmed with my handycam the whole time instead )
This year was the second time I'd been to the annual Lowcard Robstock up in Whitneyville, Maine. The last time I went was two summers ago with Julia and Dennis, which turned out to be amazingly hippie'ly mellow because all I did was lurk and sleep in the back of an old volkswagon with Gary the Nudist labarador.

So unlike a few years ago, I ended up driving most of this time but also in a car full of down ass chicks. It was a gamble who was going to be in the car, but it ended up being pretty global: Boston, NY, LA, Austrailia all up in that family Range Rover. Sketchy point: driving like seven hours straight into the wee hours of the morning on a dark country road caked in dense fog. But sketchy also cause I hate driving at night, everyones pretty much sleeping, and I have a tendency to imagine figures and cataclysmic accidents while driving in unfamiliar environments and conditions. Not sketchy point: finding headlamps at Wal-Mart with robstock friendly options like either a glowing red rape light and/or a powerfully blinding strobe. I wore it to Lit last night, where a dark stranger pointed out my survivalist headgear also served as a "homo illuminator." To-fucking-che.

Another sketchy point about Robstock that I"d have to add on is about 80% of the people that showed up. Like 18 year old douchebags, still facially pocked by remanants of adolescense, who were trying to exceed their ideals of what robstock could easily represent: totally gaying out in the woods at whatever and ANY cost. Adapting to the illusion that any chick that would show up to a Lowcard event in the woods is obviously aching to put out within 5 seconds of arrival. And if she lasted after those 5 seconds, that shit was as good as tented!!! So be as fucking obnoxious, not clever, and as humanly lame as possible!!! because you can make her look like an even bigger ho to your friends when you have absolutely nothing in common. Chicks love dumb assholes!!!! cause ALL CHICKS are SLUTS!! YAAAA!!!.. DUDES R KOOL!

The only exception of the weekend being Screwboo's coordinated Myspace hook up with the towering chick wearing the giant floral tank top. Myspace=Your Date with Destiny. I might have to (never) look into that. Screwboo's ensuing quotes included,
" She was no prize." and he zealously used adjectives like "lathering the puss" when recollecting his sexual escapade.

I'm not making fun of Screwboo, he's just THAT fucking funny. You can't make up guys like Chris Lewis. And the things he says.. !!! I'm just glad the universe somehow rigged him with all those random clouds of DNA. Regardless, some of the most annoyingest humans showed up.. preteen mannered manboys that would come up to me while we were skating the flatbottom and try to buy my set up off me then and there.

"$70 dollars", the kid offers. As if being in the act of skating with your friends is a clear advertisement that you want somebody to buy your board from you?
Are you fucking kidding me? Get the fuck out of here I said.
"I sold my board for drugs, Come on" this kid whines.

When I say the most annoyingest humans showed up I didn't lie.

The same kids friend tells me to do a kickflip ( because obviously I can't do one) so I says ok, you do one first. And this kid flips the board, it goes spiraling towards the tree behind the miniramp somehow. G-o-d, these people roll in packs! humanity CAN be and IS relentlessly devastating.

It is typical that on Earth when a male kook rides a board he can and will do so and never get shit until he does something so god damned retarded like flip a board into a tree that someone has to call his ass out. So I called his ass out and I guess he was embarassed because he fled into the woods and tried to tell my friends to apologize for him. But that wasn't even the weirdest part. This kid makes it back onto the ramp and tries to physically wrangle Garrett into some sort of a plataonic embrace, and ends up kissing Garrett on the neck.

What the fuck?? That is beyond comical skate labels, that is just a bisexual boy on meth in the woods trying to buttsex at Rapestocks. Minutes later this kid is running around behind the mini ramp, where the ground is covered in small ditches and if you are drunk and fucked on meth in the dark, I'm sure it can be very difficult to navigate out of.(Not.) I forgot to mention, dudes on top of the ramp were pissing off the ramp and onto the kissing kook, where he remained for a very long time, recieving golden showers and pretending he couldn't tell that pee and beer smell and taste distinctly different from one another.

But I'm not going to lie and say I didn't have fun at Rapestocks because I did. Because as much as the wilderness can bring out the worst in people trying to impress everybody else, I drank with the homies, laughed a fucking lot, wore my tribal pants, lounged in the lake on a floating seat, ate fresh lobster with melted butter, and raged with all the other rad humans.

Maz in Space, taken via Satellite..

Iris is "Baby True."

Skank time.

Too literal?

We stopped by at an alchohol depot in New Hampshire and ignorantly only bought 1 bottle of Canadian Fireball.
Gone, upon insurrection of Spinal Tarp, the camp bar.

I'm a fan of the flat bottom.

This kid tried to jump out of the tree. There's one every year.

Dudes with 'tudes.

Fires with 'tudes.

Carlo Rossi, limited edish back wash.

Int'l Bi-coastals.

Angle 1. Ouch?

Angle 2. Alien baby head.

Des, sequence. I call her the tumbler when she's drunk because she's either trying to tumble off an edge of a roof in brooklyn or finding weird shit like rusted rocking chairs and trying to use them as body orbs in maine.

last day before driving home, catalouge day bed.