i met God today. She was sitting opposite me at a desk telling me how she felt like crap today. She asked me if i ever felt the same. I answered her yes, and sometimes i smell like crap too. Spray colonge on a pile and it still smells like crap with cologne on it. I met God today. She was snapping photos of people with her mommas cell phone in the waiting room of federal bankrutpcy court. I met God today. He was standing on a street corner with a cup in his hand. We met eyes and he did a little two step with a joyful smile on his face. I motioned for him to come over and told him his smile was worth everything as i gave him my the two dollars that i had. He told me God bless you and i replied you too brother and we laughed as i pulled away onto a grid locked freeway.

Duke Shatner recently began working with Cheetah Finess. The pair just finished collaberation on a song titled "The Hue Is You." Follow the link on this site to Cheeta Finess' site to hear a ruff mix of this track. Look for more bangers in the future from this dymanic production dou!

I recently hopped on my bicycle and started peddling. I got to Roseburg, Oregon and while going down a hill, my panier bags malfunctioned and sent hook into my spokes. The rear tire locked up at 25mph or so and ground my tire, tube, and rim into the pavement. It was 8:30 am on a Saturday. I walked my bike a couple miles back to a bike shop I know of in that town and waited until noon when they opened. I bought a new tire and tube, adn was informed that that shop could not fix the problem of my broken spokes and untrue rim, but that there was another shop in town who could. I road my bike over to the other shop on bent rim with no rear brakes and they ended up hooking a brother up yayayaya!
On with the ride... went towards the coast on Hiway 42, stopped in one of very few health food stores in Douglas county and bought a boatload of Ginseng. After chatting with the friendly dread about stuffs and tings, I continued westward. Somewhere along the road a mama dear jumped away from two baby fawns on the side of the road. She stood looking back, watching to see what they would do. As I approached, the fawns looked at me and then at eachother in confusion. one of the fawns dropped to the ground with it's knees bent high over it's shoulders and back. the other one seeing this did the same. Just in time for me to go racing silently by about a foot from them both, weeee!!!
I made it into Coquile, Oregon, as the sun was waning low to the horizon. HUNGER... while trying to turn around to get to a little food shack, my panier hook went through my wheel and broke another spoke. I quickly twisted the broke spoke around another one and road over to get my protein. I had a nice chat with a local guy who with his pregnant wife were closing up shack for the day. He told me Bandon was only about fifteen miles west where I'd meet the 101, "just turn there and keep riding, watch the turns, it's a bit curvy and there's not much of a shoulder," nice understatement. After riding into the sunset and forty mile-an-hour gusts of wind for about 11 miles, I found a place where the woods meet the road. I stopped, looked both ways to make sure noone was watching, picked my bike up, and jumped over a road killed deer and roadkilled vulture, and disapeered into the woods.
I awoke the next morning with the light and tore down my tent. I don't like putting a tent away soaking wet, but ohwell... Hit the road and take a leasurly ride into Bandon, Oregon. Nothing seemed to be open yet. I disarmed the cops suspicious leer by waving to him as I passed. He smiled and waved back. "AHA! a coffee stand! and it's open!"
On down the road. Riding south on "The One" down this stretch is familiar times for me. My mind was dancing with memories of the days of the embrionic Shuttle Breakdown, when Dave, Aaron, and myself used to live in this area and visit Bandon everysoften. Turn the mp3 player up Dave's "home recordings" playlist is on. 
I got to Sixes, Oregon, at about 9 am and took a break at the post office at the base of the road that the three of us used to live up. I called  Dave's house and got the answering machine "Dave, you'll never guess where I am! Thinking of you!" called Aaron's. Kelly answered and told me He's not up yet. I told her to tell him where I was and that I'd see the both of them in SF. Hey, what's that biker doing? Some guy yells good morning to me from my left. It's Really Good Jerky Guy! chatty, chat, chat, buy elk jerky, vaminos...
back on the road enjoying the wind at my back. Thirteen miles into Port Orford go so quick! Hey, there's that Biker Guy! I ride up to him while he sits on the curb spreading peanut butter on white bread. He offers me a sandwich and I offer him some elk jerky. I ask if I can ride with him, and he says "yeah if you can keep up." yes! it's on!
cruising down the road following until the first hill, looks like my new friend Jason doesn't go very fast up hills, pass him, and wait at the top.
we got to the highest bridge in Oregon and folded paper airplanes and threw them off. I called my Pops and told him "Happy Father's Day," and Guess where I am." He used to take us to that bridge to fly paper airplanes when we were kids. Some other Byciclists road up and said  "awhatchuguysdoing?!!" what a great paper airplane through time! my best flight was the last one that I threw. It was a very small one, only about four inches long and folded in the secret Mantle traditional pattern. I threw it and watched as it circled down a few loops and caught an updraft that brought it well higher than the bridge that it was throne from. A bird started dive bombing it as it headed out to sea and dissapeared some five minutes after being throne.
We made it just south of Cresent City, California, that day. By the time we crashed in a field for the night, I'd riden over aone hundred thirty miles that day.
We awoke with the dawn and started riding up, and up, and up, into the misty Redwood forest. the hills didn't seem to quit for hours. sometime in the misty mornings ride, I got to the top of a hilltop and stopped to wait for Jason. Here walking the opposite direction came this guy pushing a bike loaded down with bells, flags, crosses, cooking pots, and all kinds of other gagets. He had a long wavy goutee flowing out from under his flat brimmed cowboy hat, and a feather percing the fog atop the hat. Behind him were galliently waving flags which I couldn't recognize the logos on through the mist. He came jangling up just as Jason came riding up the other side of the peak. We conversed abit atop the hill surrounded by trees and road. He told us his name was Rober (I think it's French?) and he has been walking for over three years. He doesn't know why he is walking, he just thought it sounded like a good Idea at the time. he said the more he walks, the better he feels. Said he feels younger every mile. So far he has over three thousand miles under his feet. He just traded a bunch of junk for a whole new frame and tires, took the cranks and brakes off and now he's walking north to see some mountains. Said he's originally from Texas. Ride on...
Jason and I rode into Arcata, Ca. late afternoon and got a Philly sub. While we were eating it, this tweeky looking old guy said "here's my dog, got this box full of weed, I'm measure whatever, see the stems poking out?" yep, anyways...  I got my bike tire fixed at the local shop and we rod out of town south toward somewhere to crash for the night. We ended up down by the Eel River close to Fernbridge, CA. That was the first place we were able to light a proper camp fire and have some warmth.
The next morning we got up, broke down the tents and started out south again. Now's the time I should mention that Jason Manion, this guy I rode with bought a bicycle a few months prior to flying up to Vancouver, B.C. and following a map that downloaded online, with the eventual goal of Coasta Mesa, Ca. his home town. By the time the two of us met in Port Orford, he had been on the road with no tent or rain gear for ten days, and had ridden through Washington state during a weeklong storm where the winds blew south to north and the rain never quit. He was not into the sight seeing adventure of the whole ride anymore and was just trying to get home (another ten day ride away.)
That day was a great day of riding through Redwood forests, and mountains. We lunched in Garberville, Ca. and I wished him well. I gunned it the last thirty or so miles to Laytonville,Ca. and pushed as hard as I could up everyhill and mountain in front of me (there are plenty.) I got into Laytonville at 4:20 pm and called my Bro Jake. Sure was a fun ride, can't wait till I can get another week off so I can ride farther... maybe Colorado?

http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vczI3MS5waG90b2J1Y2tldC5jb20vYWxidW1zL2pqMTIxL25pYWxsZGF2aWRzLz9hY3Rpb249dmlldyZjdXJyZW50PXNraW56LmdpZg==

boy eats drum machine, has done an excellent remix of a Radiohead song. This remix features drum tracks played by Josh Skins and originally released on Bridgetown Breaks Vol. 1.  follow this link to hear it...

http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnJhZGlvaGVhZHJlbWl4LmNvbS9yZW1peC8/aWQ9NjIw

The Seattle Stranger has just reprinted an article from 2002, about the omnipresence of Dub in the Northwest. It’s a pretty informative read. check it out. www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=11053 

don’t be scared...    before we had concrete streets and metal jeeps. before we had big gulps and shoes on our feet. back when we were pushing tricycles through the fields. making wooden cars that steered, to roll down the steep hill. fishing in the river in the middle of December. catching em by hand since they won’t bite the hook. weeding in the fields on our hands and knees. running around laughing, climbing trees. man, the view up there is nice! break dancing to "Rocket" on cardboard, under trees playing loud on a boom box. shooting beebee guns at cans and riding ponies up the mountains. exploring gold mine shafts with a candle for light. singing on the ridge line at the top of our lungs. listening to the echo as the woods hollered back. before we found our special gifts. before we burnt bridges, we were jumping off cliffs. into shallow cold water where the current was swift. before our dog Luke, lost his life in the river. Thanksgiving Day in the end of November. before our parents split up and we left the house. before we were addicted, to everyday chemicals.  back when sister spent the day reading on the couch. back when we snuck in big bro’s room just to feel the thrill. before he ruined our nine year old birthday, by jumping off the roof in a ninja outfit. you shoulda seen the kiddies running... that was before we ever bought ourselves handguns and got jacked. back before we ever gave our hearts to someone wack. back before we got scared and started acting defensive. before we got broke up on the street in the middle of the night. man, I tell ya, it aint no picknick.  sometimes just the stress, will make you second guess. living this life, with a purpose, cause it’s worth it. still we get caught in the middle of some "she said" bullshhh. I heard it. Tried to talk it out, but her friends got nervous. you can’t argue someone’s lie, it’s not worth it. in due time we’ll see the truth at the surface. We’ll work this. just the next day today, we stand blameless. silent partner and protector to thank for this service.

The trick is to flow like water. In the winter when the rains seem they'll never end, tumble head long over the cliffs to rest in the pool below before carving new paths through the lowlands and out to the sea. In the late summer when the heat of sun is scourching, stay cool underground letting just enough trickle out of the mountianside fissure to feed the creek. Throughout the seasons, although sometimes it may seem that your bed has dried up, perculate just below the surface until the rains come.