For progress in anything to happen, someone, one person, some freak, geek, dork, or weirdo, has to have a new idea. They usually get laughed at. A lot of people have new ideas, but someone has to actually go for it, whatever it is, and try it. Whether it's Evel Knievel jumping motorcycles with no suspension in 1968, or Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak making homemade computers in 1975, or Bob Haro inventing BMX tricks in 1977, or Mat Hoffman building a 21 foot high quarterpipe in 1992, someone has to go first. And there's always a price to be paid. Sometimes it's physical pain, sometimes it's years of social ridicule and living cheap. But some ideas work out, and other people begin to take notice, and something new, some new idea or direction begins.
I discovered Josh Bender a couple years ago, while doing a blog from a friend's online bike website. I was looking up all different kinds of bike riding every day, and had all these great clips popping up on my YouTube feed day after day. One day there was this Josh Bender clip, and it blew my mind. Then I found the longer clip above.
Mountain biking started with single speed cruisers bombing down hills in Marin county, California in the 1970's. In the 80's, MTB was trying to figure out what it was, with cross country, downhill, even dual slalom happening. Then, in about 1989, the bike industry decided BMX was over, and mountain biking was the cool "new' thing, and started putting money into the sport, and the bikes and riding began to evolve faster.
Out in Utah, by himself, Josh Bender started pushing the limits, and started trying drops on natural terrain, and pushing his own limits, and of the equipment of the time. As word and video of him seeped out of the Utah desert, he began blowing minds in the MTB free ride world. As the Red Bull guy says in the short clip above, Josh Bender is basically the inspiration for the Red Bull Rampage, the craziest mountain bike event for the last 19 years. Somebody has to go first, somebody has to be the pioneer. For big drops on mountain bikes, Josh Bender was that guy.
Balancing on my first quality BMX bike, a Skyway T/A, rocking red Z-Rims. Boise Fun Spot, where I was the manager, summer of 1985. Photo by Vaughn Kidwell
My name is Steve Emig, if you don't know, and I'm the guy who publishes this blog. Like many kids of Generation X, I learned to ride a bike at age 5 1/2, in 1971, it was a Schwinn Scrambler clone that my dad pieced together from garage sale bought parts. In today's world, we'd call it a rat bike. My first new bike was a red, white and blue banana seat bike, which cost $50. That was the first bike I jumped, brick and piece of wood jumps. Then I had a 26 inch ten speed, as we called road bikes back then, I jumped that bike, too, on little vacant lot jumps.
When the bike thing changed for me was in the summer of 1982, when my family moved to a trailer park outside Boise, Idaho. There wasn't much to do there, several miles outside of town, out in the desert. So us teenage boys got more and more into jumping our BMX bikes. Jumping turned into BMX racing, and then into the brand new, emerging sport of BMX freestyle. That became the driving force in my life for the next 20 years. BMX freestyle gave me a place to focus my energy, and my creativity, which shaped my whole life.
As pathetic as it sounds, I've been fighting to just get back to where I can go out and ride a little daily, for several years now. Life's been really weird for a long time, but I'll get there eventually. Here's most of the few photos I have of me riding over the last 35 years.
Shingle shuffle during a flatland session under the Huntington Beach Pier, 1987. I'm on my Raleigh Ultra Shok, technically I was "factory sponsored" for about a year.
Carving tile in the Nude Bowl, 1990, on my Aurburn.
One of the weird little tricks I invented, footplant to 180 on flat, in a 2-hip Meet the Street contest in Lo Jolla, CA, 1989 or 1990. This was a trick the skaters did in H.B., called a no comply, that I took to BMX.
Wall ride over my sister's head, 1990, at the Blues Brothers Wall in Huntington Beach.
Riding backwards on my Schwinn BMX cruiser, 2009, trying to get back riding again.
Trying to get my infinity rolls back, on a borrowed Eddie Fiola Former Pro, One Love Flatland Jam in Newport Beach, 2020 (right before the craziness shut life down).
My dad, Tom Emig, with my sister Cheri, and me, about 1972.
For this Father's Day, I figured I'll blog about my dad, because he's the guy who taught me how to draw. As a little kid growing up in small town Ohio, a career in art, or making a living at any kind of creative work, was out of the question. Art was for "those weirdos" in New York City and L.A.. The kids I grew up expected to either work in a factory, on the assembly line, or in the office next to the factory. My dad, Tom Emig was a draftsman, he drew huge pictures of machines, and machine parts, which the guys in the shop used to build the items. Drafting was as "artsy" as you could get away with, back then, in the Midwest. As I grew up, dad worked his way up to being an engineer, despite not having a college degree. He was a mechanical genius, he deeply understood how machines worked. I did not inherit that. But I did love to draw.
One of my Sharpie scribble style drawings from about 2011, using the isometric drawing ideas my dad taught me when I was about 11.
One day, on a camping trip, when I was 8, I was sitting outside our little camper drawing something, probably a curvy car, like all us kids drew. My dad sat down next to me, and asked, "Want to see how to draw a Jeep?" By Jeep in those days, he meant the classic "Army Jeep," originally made by Willys. Movies and TV shows about world War II were big in the 1970's, along with the TV show MASH, which all featured Willys Jeeps, so they were a cool thing to us 70's kids to draw. My dad showed me how to draw a side view of a Jeep in about 2 minutes. He drew one, which I'd never seen him draw before. Then he got a piece of paper, and I had one, and he showed me, step by step, how he did it. One tire, then the other, then draw the body around the tires. In ten minutes, I was drawing really cool Jeeps.
Seriously, it was freakin' amazing. I was in 3rd grade, and Jeeps, tanks, and halftracks, were our favorite things to draw in school, when we were supposed to be doing classwork. There were about 5 or 6 of us boys who were good at drawing, always competing to outdo each other. My dad's simple way to draw a Jeep blew my mind, and I practiced it the whole weekend on the camping trip. I probably drew 10 or 20 Jeeps that weekend.
A long way from those early Jeep drawings, here's a convertible VW bug I drew in 2019. #sharpiescribblestyle
But the best part came when I went back to school that Monday morning. From being about the #5 drawing kid in class, I sat down and drew a Jeep before class, and blew the other kids' minds. My new Jeep drawing skill catapulted me into the #2 spot, of the kids in class. One kid could draw really good tanks, so he retained his title as #1, in the other kids opinion, but I was a solid #2 suddenly. That totally helped my confidence in art, and I quickly used the Jeep drawing skill, and started turning out solid halftrack and tank drawings, vying for the #1 spot in class. While shy and dorky in most cases, I became "the kid who draws Jeeps really good," which was a cool status back then.
Looking back, my dad sitting down for a few minutes, and teaching me to draw a good Jeep, also helped me find something I was good at. I was a smart, dorky, super shy kid, who sucked at sports (except dodgeball), and I caught a lot of crap from other kids. But drawing was something that commanded some respect in school, and becoming "officially" good at something many other kids respected, helped me cope. And it got me drawing even more. Drawing pictures became a go-to for me when overwhelmed by all the other B.S. in life. It also helped me keep in touch with my creative side as most other kids were losing their creativity to "growing up."
Kurt Cobain drawing from 2017, used as a flyer for my first solo art show in Winston-Salem, NC. #sharpiesctribblestyle
Two or three years later, my dad taught me basic drafting skills, how to draw the top, side, and front view of an object, using the 45 degree line in the corner to transfer lines and points. He also taught me to draw isometric and oblique angles, another basic drafting skill. This led to getting straight A's in drafting in high school, and also led to me being a "creative dude," in general, which led to getting into pottery in high school, something else I got good at.
More than anything, getting "good" at drawing as a young kid, encouraged me to spend a lot of time doing creative things. I was a huge daydreamer, and always had big dreams, but never really tried to make them happen. But I could sit down and draw for 45 minutes, no problem. This kept me in touch with, and experimenting with my creativity as I grew up. That later led to publishing a zine, which was the first longer term creative project that I really committed to. That zine led to a BMX magazine job at age 20, and that changed the entire course of my life.
"Harley Quinn/Joker Tainted Love" drawing, 2018. This is my personal favorite Sharpie drawing that I've done. I had to sell it cheap while in Richmond, Virginia. I got out of the hospital after a week long stay from an allergic reaction to medicine, and I needed money to get a motel room for a night. Still bummed I lost this one. #sharpiescribblestyle
From there, I wrote for magazines, edited and shot photos for a newsletter. Then I got the chance to produce videos, and that got me into video and TV production. My point here is that helping a kid learn to draw for ten minutes, or do some other creative activity that they're interested in, helps not only their self-esteem at the time, but helps them learn to work with their creativity in general. And that has lifelong, lasting effects. While I don't make a decent living (at the moment), I'm now one of those "artsy weirdos in L.A.." I'm now best known as a Sharpie artist and blogger. And in today's world, creativity has huge value, and much of our culture and economy is based on creative activities. So teach your kids to draw, or paint, or sculpt, or play music, or whatever, when they're kids. In this post, you can see that I've evolved from drawing Army Jeeps.
So... we're finally coming out of shutdown mode after about 15 months of shutdowns, but things are still pretty weird...
Blogger's disclaimer: I'm an economics and futurist geek, I've spent most of my life studying these subjects. But I AM NOT a financial planner, CPA, accountant, or investment professional. The ideas in this blog, and in this post in particular, are my own thoughts and beliefs, and are for educational and entertainment purposes only. They should not be taken as advice or recommendations. When making financial or legal decisions, talk to a professional in those areas, and please do the necessary due diligence to make informed decisions on investments.
A year ago, about 35%-45% of Americans weren't working. Others began working from home due to the unexpected shutdowns. A hundred year pandemic hit, and the Presidential administration at the time completely blew it by not responding seriously. The health issue led to business shutdowns, and social distancing protocols, as we all know. At one point, 30 million people were on the verge of being evicted from their houses of apartments. The eviction moratoriums set in place are coming to an end. The added unemployment programs are coming to an end. Will most people be able to catch up on back rent? Or will we have a huge wave of new homeless people? We don't know.
A lot of upscale people fled New York City, and other big cities, a year ago, heading into the suburbs, and to Florida and other locations. Will most of them move back to the big cities? We don't know. Most office-type workers became adept at working by Zoom calls, and using other tech, to work from home. Will there be a mass migration back to office buildings to work? Or will huge chunks of office buildings remain empty. We don't know. In the past few months, roughly 1/3 of U.S. adults were getting some kind of "official," direct payment from the federal government (myself included). Will most of those people be able to find decent paying work again? We don't know. My educated guess is that we'll see 3-8 million people stop working, and get Social Security Disability, or some other form of assistance, to keep from working. There were already 7-10 million people in this group, former workers who dropped out of the workforce. This is one of many major societal issues not really being addressed.
There are "help wanted" signs on restaurants everywhere right now. There are at least an estimated 8-10 million people still out of work , and probably quite a few more. But they're not rushing to those low wage jobs. Will restaurants be able to find all the new (or returning) workers they need? Can people who've survived without a regular, low wage job, for the last year, even afford to work for minimum wage again? We don't know. Will low wages jobs have to start paying more money to find enough workers? Maybe. We don't know, yet.
The Federal Reserve, the non-government entity that has printed our unconstitutional U.S. dollars since 1913 (look it up, that's a fact), created more new money in the last year, than at any time in U.S. history. The M2 money supply went from under $15 trillion, to over $19 1/2 trillion, in about a year. That's like your $600 paycheck getting upped to $800. Would that help? Sure it would. That's what The Fed did for banks, Wall Street, and major corporations. This huge amount of new dollars, some printed, but most digital, has flooded the banking and investment industry, but largely avoided the real world, every day economy. This is THE reason stocks rebounded to new highs after the 2020 crash, and that real estate never crashed, like it does in a normal recession.
Very simply, every single person AND every single business in the U.S. (and most of the world), are "on welfare." Every person. Every business. The whole system is getting unearned financial aid.
The Fed has propped up a weak economy for the last 19 months, by creating huge amounts of new money. Without all that new money, the crash would have been much deeper. But that new money comes at a cost.
The problem is, when a government, or central banks like The Fed, create excessive amounts of new money, the value of every dollar (or euro, yen, pound mark, yuan, etc.) goes down. With more money around, it takes more dollars to buy the same amount of stuff. Prices begin to rise. That's what inflation is.
If a government or central bank prints way to much money, the country gets really high inflation (10%-30% a year or so), or maybe hyper-inflation (10% rise in prices a month, a week, maybe every day, or more). Every time a country has done this, EVERY SINGLE TIME IN HISTORY, the currency collapsed. There's a lag time of 1-2 years after they create the new money, until it really starts circulating, and prices start to take off and really rise. That's where we are right now. The people in charge don't want you to know that.
So, as we're all trying to find a new normal, and decide whether we work from home (OK, I don't have a home, but that's a different issue), whether we go back to the old job, or stick with the government checks, side gigs, small business, or stock trading, or whatever got us through this last year. As we're all trying to do that, prices are just starting to go up on many items. They won't all go up in unison, the price on one item will spike over here, and something else over there, sporadically. But a year from now, pretty much everything will cost you more, probably 10% to 30% more on average, that's a really safe bet. So take that into account.
Food, gas, electricity, water, insurance, clothes, everything, will go up in price a fair amount, and WILL KEEP going up in price, for the next 2-3 years. At the same time, the huge speculative bubbles in stocks, real estate, and other investments (baseball cards, exotic cars, Star Wars toys, grandma's Elvis plate collection) will crash. Boom. Downhill. Pretty much everything is a speculative bubble right now, and bubbles pop. Prices on most investments will drop dramatically in the next year, as prices are going up on day to day stuff. The real solid investments items will begin to go up again, once they hit bottom. Shadier investment items may just not be worth much anymore. That's what recessions and depressions do, they shake out the poorly run businesses (except the huge ones, they get bailed out), and shady investments.
So what can we, as average people, do? Get the day to day life stuff figured out. The old job? Or the side gigs? Work from home still, or back to the office? Keep sleeping in mom & dad's spare bedroom, sharing the bathroom with Grandpa, or get an apartment? Just keep in mind, prices will keep rising for a while, so YOUR INCOME WILL HAVE TO KEEP RISING, TOO. That's just the place we're at in the long term cycle of things.
Once you get that figured out, it's not a bad idea to stock up on basic, everyday supplies. I'm not saying to hoard 150 big, 24-packs of toilet paper. But buying a couple extra makes sense. Whatever food you buy that can keep for long periods, canned food, packaged foods, stuff like that, buying a little bit extra makes sense. It's a good time to full stock the pantry (and the bar, if you drink much). All of those things will probably cost more 3-6 months from now. There you go drunks, I just saved you a bunch of money. Send your "Thank you" checks to...
As for investments... there's a reason that, throughout human history, smart people have bought gold and silver, particularly in turbulent times. As dollars (yen, euros, yuan, etc) go down in value, gold and silver tend to hold their value... over time.
For example, a 1964 U.S. quarter, that was 90% silver, would buy my dad a gallon of gas for his Ford T-Bird (coolest car ever), in 1964. One of those 1964 quarters today, because it's made with 90% real silver, is worth about $4.68 now. Fifty-six years later, the silver in one of those average quarters, will still buy a gallon of gas. Think of how much the world has changed since 1964. The silver in that 1964 quarter will still buy about the same amount of gas. That's what I mean by "holding value."
So gold and silver, in today's weird world, are good things to look at, and see if it makes sense for you. An ounce of .999 silver is $28 or so right now, and you'll pay, $3-$10 premium on top of that. Most of you reading this can afford a $31 investment. So that's one thing to consider. (I've been encouraging friends and relatives to buy silver since it was $14 an ounce, BTW).
Another thing specific to really crazy, high inflation times like these, is debt. Long term debt makes sense, IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS. Yeah, I know, debt sucks. But the people who buy something with LONG TERM debt right now, will pay it back with dollars that are worth less. Maybe a little bit less, maybe A LOT less. That's what the government, and many mega-investors, are doing right now. Robert Kiyosaki, (the Rich Dad, Poor Dad guy) writes and speaks a lot about this.
The basic idea is, find a rental property that is already a good deal (NOT totally overpriced, like most properties are now). Buy that property, so the rent covers all your expenses, and buy it with a 30 year, fixed rate mortgage, because interest rates are still (for now) historically low. As your renters pay you rent, and you pay that mortgage, and as the value of the dollar goes down, you pay off that loan with dollars that are worth less. You'll probably be able to raise rents as prices rise, and you use cheaper dollars in the future, to pay off that long term debt. In effect, it's a way to "short" the dollar, as it drops. It's like you're buying a bunch of dollars for 50 cents each, and then using them to pay your bills. That's basically what is possible in these next 2-3 years.
You'll need to do some serious research and due diligence, find the right property, and all that. But that's one of the best ways to use this crazy dollar devaluation period to YOUR benefit. Look up Robert Kiyosaki's videos, and You Tube videos on "hyperinflation," to learn the basics. And always do the necessary due diligence on any investment.
The years from 2020-2024 will provide many of the best investment opportunities that we will ever see in our lifetimes. And most people won't take advantage of them. That's a bummer. If you made it this far in this blog post, you're ahead of the curve.
I'm totally dialing back writing about economics and stuff. But we're at another one of those huge inflection points in history. March 2020 was on big inflection point, and I wrote about what was coming (the economics, not the pandemic), for 2-3 years before hand. We're at another big inflection point right now. Some of my old friends, despite my current sketchy situation, have realized that much of what I've predicted has happened. There are big opportunities in this craziness. I hope many of you will take advantage of the ones that make sense for you.
Meanwhile, I'm dialing back doing artwork (I'll just do less), and focusing on this new blog:
OK, so it wasn't THIS much of a lock down... But let's face it, we all feel a little bit like Jake right now. It's time to get the band back together. Hell, it's time to see a band play live again. A LOT of live bands...
The pandemic lock down in California is now officially over. The pandemic is not over, but we can start opening back up fully again. In theory, everything will open back up, we'll get back to "normal," but it will definitely be a new normal. Over 34 million Americans got sick, over 615,000 Americans, and over 62,000 Californians, died in the pandemic. The smart people are pretty much vaccinated now, but there's still hope more stupid people will die from it.
In addition, over 400,000 small businesses went out of business in the last 15 months. Millions of Americans are losing the unemployment that helped keep them alive soon. Millions more will be affected by the ending of eviction moratoriums, and we could see a huge new wave of homelessness nationwide over the next few months. It's been a rough 15 months for everybody. But on the bright side, the super rich are now much more superricher than they were a year and a half ago. Doesn't that make you feel better? Yeah, me neither.
I was homeless when the pandemic hit U.S. shores. Pure and simple, we were left outside to die. And there were definitely a lot of people hoping this pandemic would wipe out most of the homeless population. Not all of you, I know, but there were definitely people in that mindset. Cue Nelson.
As it turned out, that virus doesn't travel well outdoors, and living outside, as fucked up as it is, helped keep us homeless people at less risk, much of the time. The Universe has a weird sense of humor. Still, last August I got sick, and wound up in a negative pressure hospital room for a couple of days. I didn't have the virus, I had bacterial pneumonia (from a bacteria they could not identify- WTF?), and cellutitis, which I've been prone to since my taxi driving days. I got shipped to a warehouse turned homeless shelter for sick people (decent food and Netflix for 5 days), and bailed back out to the street as soon as my medicine ran out. The streets are better than the shelters, but that's a whole different issue.
Before that funky looking little virus attacked us, I had a general plan. I would squeak through the chilly California rainy season, and start promoting my artwork to local galleries in the Spring of 2020. So... that didn't quite work out. Instead, the shutdown closed most of the bathrooms I used, it closed down the library where I could plug in and get wifi at the same time, and actuallyt work to get my life back on track. It shtudown most of the power outlets I used to charge my laptop and phone. I'm an artist and blogger. I'm actually pretty damn good at those two things. But it's hard to blog with a dead battery. The same goes with promoting my art on social media. Luckily, a bunch of people came through and ordered drawings, or just plain helped me out last spring, and to a lesser level since.
I seriously was worried that I wouldn't be able to survive one month of businesses being shutdown, last March. That's because my whole existence depended on fast food restaurants, the library, and other places that got shutdown. For 15 months, I've actually been working more hours than at most of the jobs I've ever worked. My life became a continuous search for useable bathrooms, power outlets to charge up (nearly all of them outside), and wifi spots, so I could communicate, blog, and keep selling some artwork online.
For over a year, I've been taking a bus one place to use a bathroom in the morning, then another bus to another place to plug in, sit there for an hour and a half, and charge my laptop, and sometimes my phone (when I could afford to pay for service), and then take another bus (luckily the buses have been free) to another spot, where I would sit outside, on the ground, and check my social media, and blog when I had enough battery life. There were many hours of sitting outside blogging in 50-60 degree weather, shivering. The only times I've had 24/7 power and wifi were when I rented a motel room.
I did manage to qualify for pandemic unemployment, which got me a room for about 10 weeks over the winter. That helped a lot. But my unemployment got frozen 5 weeks after it got approved, which was 4 1/2 months after I applied for it. I got about half of the total I qualified for, and lost $1,500 when it got frozen.
So here I am 15 months after this all got going. I have more drawing orders than I can handle at the moment, but I make about $2 an hour doing my drawings. I'm now pivoting to earning money from writing, rather than art, because that's my only chance of ever making a decent living again. To make that happen, I have to turn my little creative work into a legit business.
What about a job? It would take a $20 an hour job, 40 hours a week, to be able to rent a weekly motel room, the only room I could get these days. And afford food. There's no job anywhere near that pay scale I could get these days. An apartment is completely out of the question. Renting a room in someone's else's house or apartment is technically possible, but that conversation would start with, "So I'm homeless now, and I make money from Sharpie art and blogging..." That's not likely to go very well. If I go get a restaurant job,then I'm a fat, homeless guy with no place to wash my uniform, making less than I make from artwork, and spending more hours doing it. You NEVER... EVER get off the streets with a low wage job, period. The cost of living is just too high, unless someone lets you stay somewhere for free for several months.
So that's where I'm at. Sounds depressing. But I'm stoked on my new ideas. The new blog idea, Crazy California 43, is taking off, and will offer multiple ways to make money in the coming months. Yesterday I went to three banks, looking to get a "real" bank account, the next big step to getting my life back on track. None of them would let me open an account, without "proof of residence." So I need an apartment to get a bank account, so I can make enough money, to afford an apartment. Catch-22. I need to figure that one out... My life has been one obstacle after another for so long, that's just my normal now. Anyhow, another day of working doing the shit I'm meant to do. Onward!
"Art is not what you see, it's what you make others see."
-Edgar Degas
This is a repost of a blog post in Steve Emig: The White Bear blog, from August 11, 2019.
This story was written yesterday. I am a homeless man, and I slept in a
parking lot last night, after writing this. You never know what
potential is lying hidden in the people you see each day...
The Gift of Inspiration
"There's a story that has been lost to time," the old man doing chalk
drawings on the sidewalk said. He went on, I just listened, as he drew a
big yellow box, with a red ribbon, with his chalk. "It's the best gift
of all in here," he continued, "the gift of inspiration."
The chalk artist talked as he continued to draw...
"It happened back in the days of old, medieval times when knights and
castles and walled cities were the way of things. A stranger walked
through the gates of a city one afternoon, he had only a small satchel,
an odd bag over his shoulder, and a sleeping roll of blankets was tied
to a strap slung over the other shoulder. He stopped in the city
center, and bought some food from the merchants there."
"He began to talk to the people of the city, and told them he had
traveled far and wide, and had seen many things. A few people were
fascinated by his stories. One thing led to another, and he was invited
to the king's court that night, by a nobleman. The stranger accepted,
and met the nobleman later, and was escorted to the dinner. By the end
of the meal itself, before the dancing commenced, the nobleman began to
feel a bit uneasy. It was customary in that city to offer a gift to the
king, as a token of appreciation for the privilege of dining in the
great hall. The nobleman pulled the stranger aside, and told him of the
custom, offering to have a servant go to his house and find a suitable
gift. The stranger simply said, 'Don't worry, I have something to
give.'"
"As the king and queen took to their thrones, and the fine people of the
city offered lavish gifts of silks, spices, gold, and other treasures,
the stranger finally was presented to the king. 'Your majesty, I am a
humble traveler, I have been to many lands, and I bring you something no
other king even knows exists.' The stranger reached into his satchel
and pulled out a small earthenware jar. 'In a land, far, far to the
East, on an island only a few have set foot upon, there lives a lone
wizard. Having heard of this wise one, I traveled to his island, and
spent many days searching for the cave he calls home. I finally found
him, and spent many weeks learning from him.'"
"'When it came time for me to leave, the wizard gave me this jar. He
told me that I would find the city that was ready for the greatest of
all gifts. I believe I have found that city, your majesty, and it is
your city the wise wizard spoke of. You see, in this jar is a fine
dust, like very fine sand, which the wizard spent many many years
creating. This magic dust... is the gift of inspiration itself.'"
The chalk artist finished drawing the big yellow box with a red ribbon,
and he began to draw a huge castle, in the middle of a walled city.
Without looking up, he continued his story.
"The king looked dubious, but intrigued. 'The wizard told me that when I
found the right city, which I would know in my heart, that I was to
sprinkle a tiny bit of this magic dust, on the head of each of its
residents, with each new moon, such as we have tonight. The wizard said
the dust would inspire the people of that town to new ideas, to create
works of art, new delicacies to be eaten, and new forms of music and
dance, incredible plays will be performed, and great architecture will
arise, and other crafts such as the world has never seen. This gift of
inspiration would make the city the most prosperous in the land.'"
"'I am a humble traveler, your majesty, I have little in physical goods
to offer, but I can offer your city this gift of inspiration, if you
will accept it.' The king did not think long, and quickly ordered his
subjects to form a line to have the odd stranger administer a pinch of
dust onto the head of each person. Then the drinking and dancing began,
and first the king and queen, and then the others, talked with the
mysterious stranger, listening to his tales of far off places, of
strange people and odd customs. Before long a few people began sharing
ideas that had long been kept to themselves."
"The next day, after hearing several nobles felt "quite inspired," the
king had all the townsfolk line up in the city square, and had the
stranger tell of the magic dust, and sprinkle a pinch on each person,
even the children. The stranger was given a house to live in, and the
job of wandering the city to see how the inspiration was taking hold.
He began to talk to the people of the town every day, listening to new
ideas of all kinds, and encouraging them, helping them gather supplies,
or begin a project they'd imagined long before, but never had the nerve
to try. A new kind of energy, not one that can be seen, but can
definitely be felt and experienced, arose in the city."
"It began the second day when a woman brought a new cake to the town
square, a flavor she had never baked before, and with exquisitely
decorated icing. Several townspeople tried it, marveled at the new
taste, and went home to try new ideas of their own. By the time the
next new moon came around, many new sweets, a couple of new beers, and
several new stews had been created. The tanner had crafted some amazing
bags of leather, finely tooled designs upon them, designs he'd thought
of years before. Much to the surprise of everyone, the town mortician,
known mostly for his very quiet demeanor, and for carving tombstones and
preparing the dead for funerals, began to carve into the stone of the
city's outer wall. In a month, in the time not devoted to his normal
duties, he had carved most of a relief of the city's founding king on a
horse. The carving was incredible in its detail and nuance, and was on
the wall next to the city's gate. Travelers and townsfolk alike
remarked at its beauty."
The old man with the chalk expertly drew a relief of a mounted rider, on
the wall of the city he was drawing on the sidewalk in front of me.
Still never looking up, he continued his story.
"On the evening of the second new moon, the king held a great party for
the nobles, and again the mysterious traveler was invited. The king
lifted his bejeweled cup and spoke, 'A toast, to our new friend and
hopefully longtime resident, the great traveler, who has been drawn to
our fine city to bestow the great gift of inspiration itself.' Cups
rose and clinked around the great hall. Sips were taken. The king told
of new delicacies he had tried, of his pleasure seeing the great
carving on the city wall, and the new works of beauty the city's
craftsmen and women had created. The king ordered the noblemen and
noblewomen to line up once again, to receive a pinch of the magic dust
on the top of their heads from the jar the mysterious stranger held, and
kept safe in his new home. The next day, again, the king and his court
had the townspeople line up in the town square, even the children, to
receive a pinch of the magic dust upon their heads by the traveler."
"That month two new cheeses of exquisite flavor were created by the
cheese maker, and sweet rolls, and more leather works, and a fine sword
by the blacksmith. The carvings by the quiet mortician continued on the
outer wall. More people had more ideas, and shared them with others,
and began to encourage each other. The king and queen, their court, and
all the townspeople still managed their to do their normal duties.
But each found time to do other, more creative activities, as well. The
mysterious traveler was now a cherished friend to all, and wandered the
town each day, lending a helping hand here and there, encouraging those
trying one new thing or another, and laughing, eating, and drinking
with the townspeople."
"A few days later, a wagon drawn by two horses entered the city gates.
It was the wide ranging home to a traveling merchant who came to the
area every two or three months. He parked his wagon, and, with his
wife, walked into the town square to find the local craftspeople he had
known for many years. He immediately noticed something was different.
The people seemed more friendly, and their was more laughter in the air
and less bitterness. As he wandered the local shops, he was amazed by
all the new items, beautiful items, wonderful beers, and tasty new
treats, the town had to offer. A small stage had been erected in the
town square, for performing plays and music. The king had ordered the
people not to talk of the precious gift of inspiration, for their city
was the chosen one, and they wanted to keep it that way. So the
craftspeople of the own simply said, "Oh, I had this idea for a long
time, and just decided to give it a try," when asked about a new
creation. The wandering merchant bought and traded many wonderful things
to carry with him and sell in other towns. A couple of weeks later, the
same thing happened with another of the wandering merchants of the
region."
"And so it went, day after day, week after week, month after month, in
the walled city that once seemed no different than any of the other
walled cities throughout the land. But bit by bit, traveler by
traveler, word began to spread about the one city with the carving on
its protective wall, and the wonderful and interesting things the people
of that city produced. People from cities close by began to travel
there more often, to listen to the music, to buy the delicacies, and to
trade. As time passed, people from across the region, then people from
across the country, visited the city with the growing stone carving and
the exquisite works of crafts and arts and culinary delights. Within a
few years, even back in those times when people and news traveled rather
slow, people from far away lands sought out the city, now famous in
many, many lands for its creativity and great works. The city prospered
in good times and in bad, and people far and wide wondered what its
great secret was. That secret, of course, was that on each new moon,
each new beginning of that cycle in the night sky, the mysterious
traveler sprinkled a tiny bit of dust on the top of the head of each of
the townspeople, even all the children. He bestowed on them the
concoction of the great wizard, on that small island, far away. The
traveler gave them inspiration."
The old man doing the chalk drawing on the sidewalk had drawn the walled
city, with many towers, next to his chalk drawing of the big yellow
box, wrapped with a red ribbon. The detail in the quickly drawn picture
was amazing. Without raising his head, his story continued.
"In time the walled city grew to be the dominant city in the whole
region. The city grew. The great outer wall, now completely covered
with incredible relief sculptures, was expanded. Brave and incredible
new architecture was built in the new area, and huge beautiful gardens
were planted and tended to. The most talented people from many other
lands flocked to the city, to learn from its people, now masters of many
types of art and craft, and always innovators of new things. Each new
person was taken aside, and told quietly about the mysterious stranger,
and asked to keep the magic dust, the gift of inspiration, quiet. Since
the small earthenware jar holding the gift of inspiration was a great
secret, eventually everyone knew about it. The magic dust became a
legend, and like most legends that travel from their source, it wasn't
believed, it became a joke to tell in other cities. The joke protected
the small jar that never seemed to run out of magic dust."
"The king of the city, a sturdy and noble middle aged man when the
mysterious traveler first arrived, grew old as his city expanded and
flourished. Some thirty years after the arrival of the traveler, the
now old and wise king grew ill. The townspeople new his time as there
king was nearing an end. One night, knowing he had only a few days of
breath left in him, the king called for the mysterious traveler, now an old friend and counselor, to visit him. The king told his servants to
leave them alone to talk."
"The weak king smiled, 'My city has flourished since your arrival, my
friend, and I am very grateful for that.' The traveler nodded. 'My
days are now few, and I must ask you the question I have wished to ask
all these years. What is the magic dust, the gift of inspiration, actually made of?' The traveler smiled, and sat on the chair next to the king's bed.
"The traveler began, 'As a young man, I got in a lot of trouble. I
lived on a small farm outside a walled town, much like any other. I was
a precocious child with far too much energy, and lots of ideas I
thought were wonderful. But no one wanted to hear them. No one
encouraged me to try out my ideas. In fact family and friends alike
told me to shut up, keep my ideas to myself, and do what I was told, and
to do no more than I was told. They were not bad people, but people
raised to work hard, and to focus on the simple things, and to live as
their ancestors had lived. They did not like new ideas, they liked
things to remain they way they were."
"But something inside of me told me there must be more to life. I
sensed there must be some reason I had all these ideas. In my little
bit of free time from doing my chores, I went to a bend in the nearby
river, where there was a big sandbar, and a fallen tree on the edge of
the sandbar. I sat there and I dreamed of going to a place, a place I
imagined was far, far away, a place where ideas were welcomed and
appreciated. A place where new things were tried, and great things were
created. I knew that place must exist somewhere."
"In those years as a growing child, yearning to roam far beyond my
town's walls, I found myself drawn to the merchants, the roaming
minstrels, and the travelers of all kinds, telling tales of other
places, different people, and far off lands. Finally, shortly after my
14th birthday, I packed a few things, and I ran away from my town. I
set out to find that far off land I dreamed of, that land where new
ideas were welcomed, and innovation was an everyday thing. I sought
that place with great buildings, and works of art, and beautiful music,
and even more beautiful women dancing each night."
"But I was a young man with no money, so I began to work for a traveling
merchant, and then another, and then another. With him and his wife, I
traveled from town to town, city to city, and began to meet many
people. One day we came to a great port city, and I saw a huge ship in
the harbor, like nothing I had every seen before. I asked one of the
workers about the great ship, and in talking with him, he told me the
captain needed a new cabin boy. So I left the merchant life, and I took
to the seas, working under a wise old salt, a great ship captain, and I
traveled the world."
"In each port, I went ashore with the older men, and I drank ale and
danced with women, and learned different customs and different
languages. I learned the ways of the sailors, and I moved up in jobs on
the crew of the ship. I worked my way around the world as a sailor.
Some told me I might make a great captain some day. But in my heart, I
knew I was looking for that one place. I was looking for that place
where ideas flowed like wine at a wedding party, and everyone did great
and wonderful things as a matter of course."
The old man with the chalk, drawing on the wide city sidewalk in front
of me, deftly drew a great three masted sailing ship. Without looking
up, he continued his story.
"The stranger continued telling the king his story. 'But I never found
that place. I saw great buildings, fine paintings, sculptures created
by master artists. I ate great foods at times, and meager sea rations
at others. I worked hard, always ready to head up to the crow's nest of
the ship, so I would be the first to see the place I dreamed of as a
child. But the more lands I visited, the more I realized that people
are nearly the same everywhere. They look a bit different, they eat
different foods, and have different cultures. But they all sound nearly
they same when they laugh, they all look much the same when dancing,
and tell very similar stories over a pint of ale. The all make similar
gibberish when playing with a small baby. The all ache much the same
over a broken heart, or grieve the same over a lost loved one.'"
"'I also noticed, everywhere I went, the people all had ideas that they
told me, a stranger, a traveler, but were afraid to tell their family
and friends. Many of these ideas were really good ones, but they were
afraid to fail, afraid to look like a fool around the people they grew
up with. Like me, as a child, everyone had good ideas they were afraid
to try. One night, thinking about this common thing I'd noticed in
people around the world, I bought a small earthenware jar from a street
merchant, it was filled with a sweet custard that was baked into a
velvety crust in the jar. I walked with my jar out along the
waterfront, to a quiet, secluded beach, made of the most fine sand I'd
ever seen. As I sat on the beach, watching the sun slowly drop towards
the horizon, a local craftsman wandered by, collecting pieces of
driftwood and shells. I'd seen his work, he made these amazing little
sculptures of mythical creatures, dragons and sea serpents, in the
marketplace. Throughout that city, I saw his works on shelves and in
window ledges. He was a favorite artist of the city, but I had seen his
creations in other cities, and even on the desk of the great sea
captain I first sailed with. Everyone talked about how he took ordinary
objects, a piece of old fishing net, a branch from some driftwood, a
bit of seashell, and a few other cast off objects, and made something
incredibly beautiful out of those things."
"'As he walked by, I asked him how he learned to make his amazing little
sculptures. The man smiled, he sat down on the beach beside me, as the
sun sank a bit above the horizon. He told me that his uncle gave him a
small knife as a kid, and taught him how to whittle little figures out
of scraps of wood. So he began to whittle in all of his spare time. A
couple of years later, still a very young boy, there was a girl he had a
crush on who got very ill. He'd always been afraid to tell her how he
felt. The word got around that she might die. Not knowing what else to
do, he found a scrap of wood, and he began to carve a dove out of it,
the little girl's favorite bird. He found some scraps of cloth, a bit
of wax, and other odds and ends, and melted the wax, and added on here
and there, and he made her a dove. Then, sheepishly, he went to her
house, into her room, where the family was gathered around, and he
silently handed her his homemade dove. The sculptor said her eyes lit
up, and she smiled a glowing smile. It was the first time she'd smiled
in days. He said he felt a feeling, a true, good, incredible feeling,
that he'd never known before. The girl weakly waved him towards her, and
gave him a kiss on the cheek. The sculptor's eyes teared up as he told
me.'"
The old man with the chalk outlined a beautiful dove with a few
masterful strokes, and then set to color it in. Eyes still to his work,
continued his story.
"'What happened then?' The traveler asked the sculptor. The sculptor
took a breath, trying to hold back his tears, 'Then she took a shallow,
coughing breath, and she died. She died smiling, holding my dove. I
started crying, and I ran from the room,' the sculptor said. After a
couple of minutes, still crying outside the house, I felt a soft hand on
my shoulder. I turned to see the girl's grandmother. She said, "I
know you liked her for quite a while, why did you never tell her, or
give her a gift before now?" The sculptor said, "I was afraid. I was
afraid she would laugh at me, or make fun of me, or tell me to never
talk to her again." The grandmother continued, "What you did for my
sick granddaughter was wonderful, and the little dove you made was
beautiful. You should never feel bad for creating a gift to help
someone. That was the first time she's smiled in many days." The
grandmother grabbed his chin, pulled his face to look at hers, and said,
"From now on, whenever you feel the need to make something beautiful,
for any reason, I give you permission to go ahead and do it, to go ahead
and make it, whatever it is. My granddaughter has passed on, but her
spirit, and that smile, will be with you always. I think you will go on
to make many other people smile with the things you create." The
sculptor could no longer hold back the tears, they streamed down his
cheeks. "The girl's grandmother gave me permission to make the things I
think need to be made, and I've been making them ever since." He got
up, picked up his driftwood and shells, and walked off down the beach,
wiping his eyes.'"
"The traveler continued his story to the king. 'At that moment, the
setting sun just touched the horizon, and suddenly I knew why I never
found the city where new thoughts and ideas were welcomed, and where
everyone made incredible things. I never found that city,' the
mysterious traveler told the king, 'because in every town and city
everywhere, there were people with ideas, but most of them were afraid
to try. No one ever gave them permission. I realized it was the same
everywhere.'"
"The traveler continued. 'I wiped my eyes and watched the most
beautiful sunset, sitting on an incredible beach of fine sand, eating a
rich, custard dish, in my little earthenware jar. I didn't think life
could be much more pleasurable than that moment. It was inspiring. I
knew what I must do. I washed out my jar when I was done eating, and I
filled it with the fine sand from the beach that inspired me. I got
hired on the next ship leaving the port. I began traveling again.
Eventually I made my way here.'"
"The mysterious traveler turned to the king. The king smiled, and in a
weak voice, he spoke, 'I had a feeling there was no wizard, but the
magic you created with that sand and your little jar, it worked. My
city... our city... has thrived, I thank you for that." The king
reached out and took the traveler's hand and shook it in deep
appreciation. They were both silent for a few moments."
The old man drawing with the chalk began to draw a fire, and I thought
maybe he was drawing the fire of creative energy itself. Still facing
his work, he continued his story
"Then the king spoke again. "I have another question, one that's
bothered me these many years. How is it that your little jar never ran
out of the sand from that beach that inspired you?" The traveler got
up, and walked to the window, the kings room was high in the castle, and
looked out over the city, and the lands beyond the wall. The traveler
looked out the window for a moment, then he spoke, 'There's a small
beach, a sandbar really, about a mile down the river, I've been going
there to sit and think now and then, since I came here. It's quiet and
beautiful, and it reminds me of that beach far away, where I talked to
the sculptor. When the sand in the jar got a little bit low, I picked
up a handful on the sandbar by the river, put it in my pocket, and
filled the jar back up when no one was looking, so it never ran out.'"
"'You fooled me and my people for thirty years now,' the king laughed.
'I didn't really fool them,' the traveler said, still looking out the
window, towards the sandbar down the river, 'I simply told them an
engaging story, and I gave them permission to be who they had always
been capable of being, who they always wanted to be, that's all.' 'What
wonderful magic,' the king laughed, 'It is you who is really the great
wizard. Again, I thank you.' The traveler turned towards his friend,
the king, and nodded.'"
"There was a small farm right by that sandbar on the river,' the king
began again, "long, long ago, when I was a young prince, and my father
was king. I knew the farmer well, he had a peach tree there that
seemed to grow the juiciest peaches anywhere, and he always gave me
plenty when they were in season.' The traveler continued to stare out
the river as the king spoke. 'The farmer was a good man, I talked to
him often when he came to town, when I had more time for such things. One
night, during a fierce thunderstorm, a bolt of lightning struck the
big, old oak tree outside his cottage, and the tree fell on the house,
catching it on fire. It burned all night. Since the farm was set apart
from the others, we didn't realize what happened until a hunter walked
by the next morning, and found the smoldering ruins. The house burned
to the ground in an intense fire. The man and his wife were both
inside, but we found very little of them. The farmer had a young boy,
too, about 12 years old. He must have completely burned up in the fire,
we found no trace of him. It was a terrible tragedy. For years
afterwards, I would go to that place when the peach tree was full of
ripe fruit, and I would say a prayer for that farmer.'"
The mysterious traveler smiled, and turned back towards the king. He
walked across the room to the bedside, and once again sat in the chair.
'Yes, that was a terrible tragedy. The boy was 14, by the way, not 12,
and he didn't die in the fire. I ran away. There was something I
needed to find. When I finally found it, I came back home and shared
it.' The king's mouth dropped open in surprise, and then he smiled.
The mysterious traveler smiled back."
The man doing the chalk drawing on the city sidewalk stopped drawing,
finishing his drawing of the huge castle, the great walled city, and the
cottage on fire, exactly when his story finished. He turned, looked up
to me and smiled. "You, like everyone, have ideas you think need to
become reality. You have my permission, go make them happen."
-Steve Emig
The White Bear
8/10/2019
This basic story, in one form or another, has been in my head for 20
years or so. The time finally came to write it down. Creativity is like
that. The best works have a way of coming into existence just when
they are most needed. We don't really create the art. We artists and
writers are really a sort of midwives, we shepherd the work from the
unseen world into the tangible world, where it can be shared.
Wall ride over my sister Cheri's head, Blues Brothers Wall, Huntington Beach, CA, 1990.
For anyone who's stumbled across the blog and for some reason wants to know who I am and where I came from, this blog post I wrote in 2017 should tell you far more than you ever wanted to know.
This is a great little bio video on Tony Hawk's life, and it shows his son Riley, who figures into this blog post.
As a homeless guy at the moment, I take buses all the time. City buses, are still free in L.A. county, because of the pandemic. I got on a bus in Long Beach yesterday, and a couple of stops later, a man who appeared in his early 40's, got on with his young daughter. Unfortunately for them, the only empty seats were right near me, the fat, sketchy looking guy in the back of the bus. The daughter was a cute kid, maybe 5 or 6, carrying a little stuffed unicorn.
Being a sketchy looking homeless guy, though showered and cleaner than usual at the time, I tried to ignore them, and not freak them out. The daughter had a little tiny notebook, and when she started writing in it, she asked her dad how to spell "Riley." I don't know who she was writing to, probably a friend, I guess. The dad wasn't sure if it was spelled with "ly" or "ey" at the end. Spelling is one of my strong suits, so being the dork I am, I spoke up. "It's R-i-l-e-y" I said. The dad thanked me politely, and repeated it, as his daughter wrote it down. "That's Tony Hawk's son's name, that's how I know it," I added.
The dad perked up. "I'm from Maine, I was such a huge fan of Tony Hawk!" As his daughter continued writing her note, we had a great conversation about skateboarding in general, and Tony Hawk in particular. This was your typical, Yuppie looking guy, with no Van's shoes or Thrasher T-shirt or anything that would suggest a background in skating. But he had been a pretty serious skater for at least a couple years as a teen, and it turned into a really cool conversation.
I told him I was a BMX guy mostly, but I skated a little, made it to Southern California, and wound up working at Vision Skateboards during their heyday. I actually got to go to Tony Hawk's Fallbrook house way back in 1989, for a video shoot with Ken Park (and also one with Joe Johnson later on). In this clip of Ken Park, shot at Tony's Fallbrook house, I'm in the background in the all white at :16, :25, :41, and 1:34. I was helping out Don Hoffman, my boss at Unreel Productions, and shooting the Super 8 footage that day, as Don shot 35 mm film. Tony was off at a demo somewhere, but I had lunch with Don and Frank Hawk, Tony's dad, sitting in the bed of Frank's pick-up. Don and Frank were talking about the "old days of skateboarding," and this was in 1989. It was an epic conversation to just sit and listen to.
I never did meet Tony Hawk. I've seen him at a few contests, and actually stood next to him on the deck of a ramp at an Action Sports trade show in 1994 or so. I was shooting photos of the BMXers on the halfpipe, and the BMX session ended, and the skaters took over the ramp. Tony flew out right next to me, but I felt to weird to introduce myself, so I kept shooting photos. Some skater I'd never heard of, Bucky Lasek, dropped in, and did a 360 backside ollie right in front of us, and Tony freaked, that was a brand new trick then, so that stuck out in my mind. You know it's a good trick when Tony Hawk, and all the other skaters, freak out an slam their trucks on the coping giving props.
A few years later, I scammed a press pas to the X-Games in San Francisco, in 1999. I wanted to shoot some video footage to start getting back in the scene, and told ESPN I was writing for Dig BMX magazine in the U.K. I did actually send an article to Dig, so it was semi-legit. I wound up at the BMX vert ramp during practice, when Steve Rocco flew over in a helicopter, and threw money stamped with World Industries logo characters at the crowd. I got 4 of those World dollars, most of which actually fell on the BMXers, not the skate audience, due to the wind.
I ran into Old School Skyway pro, and friend from my time living in SanJose, Maurice Meyer. We started talking about "the old days," in the 1980's. I was part of the NorCal scene for a year, before I got the magazine job in 1986, and moved south to Redondo Beach. Maurice, better known as Drob, was he pro I got to know the best while living up there.
That evening at the X-Games, the skateboard best trick contest was starting as BMX practice ended, so Maurice and I walked over to watch it. We were standing right behind the skater's chairs, maybe 20 feet from the side of the halfpipe. PLG was trying heelflip Caballerials, as I recall. Bob Burnquist was trying to land a one footed Smith grind to revert. Tony Hawk pulled his best trick, a varial 720, with about 15 minutes left in the jam. It was an epic skate session, "real" skateboarding, the vibe was like a backyard ramp session, only with about 5,000 people in the stands watching.
And then this happened, something none of us expected. I think it took Tony 11 tries to land the first 900 on a skateboard. I was standing there, with my little Sony Digital 8 video camera... with a dead battery. I didn't care. I was stoked to just watch that happen. By the time he landed the 9, we all knew we were watching skateboarding history happen. You can get a glimpse of Maurice, in a white hoodie with sunglasses, at 6:04 in that clip, part of the crowd congratulating Tony. For some reason, I didn't move, I just stood where I was, and watched it all happen, for once not worrying about getting the video shot.
So what started as a pretty average bus ride yesterday, turned into one of those really cool random conversations with a stranger. He told me about Joe Rogan's podcast with Tony, which I have never watched. The dad and I fist bumped as we got off the bus, and headed our separate ways, both kinda stoked at reliving a bit of our teenage/20-something years, all because we were both big fans of Tony Hawk, the skateboarder.
As I've grown older, I've realized the the things we put so much emphasis on achieving in life are rarely what we remember 10-20-30 years later. We remember little moments, weird little interactions with other people. Those are the things that stick in our minds, and become our most cherished memories.
My blogs, the Old School BMX stuff, anyhow, is mostly me telling those stories about obscure moments in the early days of BMX freestyle, and sometimes skateboarding. That's what the success of my blogs is built on, those weird little moments we remember many years later. Yesterday's completely random bus conversation has become another one of those cool memories. One of these maybe I'll actually have to meet Tony. We'll see.
This is the best little video I know of on this idea. Gary Vaynerchuk is an entrepreneur, social media marketing expert, and now owner of VaynerMedia, a $130 million dollar a year digital agency that he started about a year before he made this video in 2013. Gary now tells people to put out 100 pieces of content a day. Really. 100 pieces a day.
Last week, I looked up my old blogs, and surprised myself by learning that I've pulled in over 438,000 page views on my blogs over the last 12 years. I put the details in this post. While my physical situation is sketchy still, the blogging and social media has done well. My main issue is that I've been selling drawings that take a ridiculously long time to draw, and sell for $150-$200. I'd have to sell them for about $1,500 each to make a decent living. Needless to say I'm not there yet. I'm in the middle of pivoting back to doing more writing, and getting an online store going, and doing less Sharpie art. I love drawing, but making an actual living is cool, too.
So after adding up 12 years of blog stats, I went down to Costa Mesa to hang out and shoot photos at Boozer Jam 2021 at Sheep Hills. The jam is held on honor of Mike "Boozer" Brown, a longtime BMX racer and jumper, and Sheep Hills local, who died in 2019.
I hung out in this weird chunk of trash land that is home to some of the most famous dirt jumps in the world. Somehow, the jumps are not only still there after 30 years, but it's an official park area now. I talked to a bunch of old BMX friends, met a couple new ones, and shot photos of riders tearing it up, like this one.
Tucker Smith, stretching a double seat grab Superman. #steveemigphotos
I wasn't thinking about blogging or social media all day. I was just having fun hanging out, and Jonesin' to get a bike and get riding again. In the last month, I've begun to focus this blog more on blogging, writing, and creativity itself. But I still want to go into things I've learned from my own blogging, and promoting my artwork. There are thousands and thousands of good artists and writers out there these days. But if you want to actually sell your art, or make a living as writer of some sort, you need to either do your own promotion, or get someone to do it for you.
But that day hanging out at Sheep Hills, I realized that action sports athletes also need to do the same types of promotion that artists, writers, small businesses, and other creative people do. The more I've looked into how creative people and small businesses use social media, the more I've realized how much more they could be doing. There are so many platforms to promote yourself, your work, and your ideas these days, and yet most people don't use them to anywhere near their full potential.
After a little research this morning, looking into the Instagram and online presence of several of the athletes there last weekend, and a few of the very top action sports names, I realized the same is true of them. Yeah, even the very best action sports athletes could do a lot more with social media, blogs, and other online platforms and apps. After all, your job as a sponsored athlete is to promote your sponsor's products. If you do a really good job promoting yourself online and on social media, then you're doing a better job promoting your sponsors, and whatever it is that they sell. That's why they sponsor you.
So now I'm going to add action sports athletes into these blog posts about promoting and marketing yourself. Artist, writer, blogger, or athlete, in today's media environment, you can basically promote yourself as much as you want to. And you control the content, you can do what you think is cool, and avoid things you think are lame. Yes, I know that every athlete, and most artists and writers are on social media. But most of them, even top action sports athletes, use it like a consumer, like everyday people who don't have anything to promote. But just like riding or writing, it you want to be a pro, you need ot step up your game.
So here's the first concept to begin stepping up your game. Here's the main pointGary Vaynerchuk makes in the video above:
"You are a media company."
-Gary Vaynerchuk, 2013
You're not just a novelist, photographer, artist or blogger or BMXer or skateboarder. You are also a media company. With your phone or tablet or laptop, you can make several different kinds of media, any time you want to. and you can put it on worldwide platforms where potentially millions of people can see, hear, or read it. Let that sink it.
After all, look at me, I'm an old dork... but I'm a dork whose blogs have been looked at 438,000 times in 12 years. You all are much cooler than I am, I'm just pretty good at writing cool little stories about BMX and other weird things I've seen or done. You can do a lot more than I can with your particular talents. So let that idea sink in... no matter what you do, you are also a media company. Gary V. was trying to drill this idea into corporate executives 7-8 years ago, when they didn't see the point of advertising and creating content with blogs, videos, or social media. Seven years later, most small businesses, artists, writers, and athletes know you need to be on social, but don't use it to its full potential.
More thoughts on this coming soon. But for now, here's another cool photo from Boozer Jam 2021.
Mike "Hucker" Clark with a corked out 360. #steveemigphotos
What's it like at a Boozer Jam? This video by pro skater/rapper Chris Gentry, from Boozer Jam 2014, will give you an idea. OK, the T&A is from downtown Huntington Beach, but the rest is all Sheep Hills. You can see Mike "Boozer" Brown in his wheelchair at :52, real quick, at that event. Boozer Jam 2021 was held on Saturday, May 29th, 2021, at Sheep Hills.
"Boozer" Mike Brown was a lifelong BMX racer, and a Sheep Hills local rider and jump builder from the earliest days of the 1990's. He was paralyzed in a racing accident in 2012. The Boozer Jam was put on as a fun day of real BMX, and a fundraiser to help out Mike and his mom, Cathy, who lived on a real tight budget. Mike died in 2019, and that year's jam turned into the Boozer Mike Memorial Jam, held in his honor since. A raffle at the end of the day helps out Cathy Brown, originally with funeral expenses in 2019, and just in general ever since. This year some money also went to help get bikes for underprivileged kids, as well.
Here's Mike in his heyday, doing his favorite trick, the bowlegged X-up. Photo loaned to me by Jason "Dogger" German, who is the driving force behind Boozer Jam each year.
Boozer Jam is a jam, so the vibe is much different from a major contest. It's a day for 300 or 400 people to all show up at Sheep Hills at once, ride the trails, talk to old friends, make some new ones, and just have a good time. Jason "Dogger" German does the leg work, putting the event together, and he kicked ass as usual. Mike's mom Cathy comes out, and hangs out all day. A bunch of T-shirts and stickers are sold, and a ton of BMX product is donated and raffled off to help Cathy out, and it's also helping underprivileged kids as well.
Tucker Smith (@tuckersmithbmx on Instagram) stretches a double seat grab Superman.
There are a load of guys in black T-shirts. There's a huge S&M and Fit Bikes presence, since Sheep Hills has been S&M Bikes country since it was built in 1990. But us geezers from the early 90's are old now, and most have families. So Boozer Jams are family events for many. Sometimes the parents watch the kids ride. Sometimes the kids watch dad ride. Sometimes the whole family rides.
Mike "Hucker" Clark with his trademarked corked out 360. In addition to these, Mike threw tailwhip flips, and was trying to jump this huge step-up and land in a hang-5, at one point. That's not physically possible, but he damn near did it anyway.
Yes, I said "us" geezers above. I was a freestyler in the 80's, doing tricks for crowds at the Huntington Beach Pier, while the racers were chasing points at races. I actually worked on the edge of the Costa Mesa mesa, a few hundred yards from Sheep Hills, from late '87 to early '90. I rode the jumps that used to be off of 19th street, where the condos above Sheep Hills are now. Some people called those jumps Hollywood, because former pro racer, and Vision Street Wear BMX team manager, "Hollywood" Mike Miranda rode there a lot. He's the one who showed me those jumps, a big hip and a ditch jump, at a Vision photo shoot.
I also rode Sheep some the first couple of years, in the era of the three berms. Then the racer jumpers built everything bigger, and I sucked to much to clear the jumps. But I rode by and hung out now and then, through the early 90's. I even helped with shovel some dirt on occasion. Being roommates with Chris Moeller around '93-'94, the young bucks of the day often came to our apartment to play video games. I'd be watching a rock climbing video, and Timmy Ball would come in, followed by Barspinner, Chulo, Stricker, and the Popes, and kick me off the TV so they could play video games. So while I never could jump a decent set of doubles, I was around those guys some in the early days.
It's always cool to go hang at Sheep, see some old friends, and shoot photos, until I can get my shit together and get a bike again. On my end, it was cool to talk to Dogger, Randy Russell and his wife, Sean Duncan, Ricky Rat, Timmy Ball, and Brooks Manbeck, from the P.O.W. House days. I also met Facebook friend Molly Opps for the first time in person. It was just a fun day all around.
Cathy Brown, Mike's mom, hanging out at Boozer Jam 2021.
While these events are largely just a big jumping jam, there's a little bit of order to the chaos. Dogger leads the pack through a skid contest, for distance and style, and a bowlegged X-up contest, Mike's favorite trick, on the Boozer line he built almost 30 years ago. The highlight of the day is the best trick contest, which was won by Cory Nastazio this year, with a corked out 720, or 360 flip, whatever you want to call it.
Tailwhip flip attempt. This rider kind of came out of nowhere. Some people said he was from Phoenix. He said he lives near Temecula now, but moved there recently, I think. He was hucking some serious moves. I think his name is Topal, or something like that. #steveemigphotos
The weather started hazy, with June gloom all morning. But the marine layer burned off, and it was a beautiful sunny day, and not too hot, perfect for the jam. Riders from ages 5 or 6, up to riders in their mid 50's were riding hard all day. Others hung and watched, and most shot photos and selfies with friends throughout the day.
It's 2021, and there are plenty of talented women riders these days. Jesse Gregory twists one in the bowlegged X-up contest. #steveemigphotos
Dogger, handed the mike over to longtime Sheep Hills local, and current Hawaiian aquaman, Barspinner Ryan Brennan, and he kept the vibe going. He called out Chris Hughes, offering $100 bill if Chris could land a clean body varial. He tried a bunch of them, eating shit on several. Chris rode away, dragging a foot, on two or three. There were tons of nac-nacs, and no handers, plenty of 360's, and a handful of guys doing flips. Tailwhip flips and 720's were happening, and Hucker hucked a front flip that rattled him, but kept riding, of course. It was just a solid, fun day of real BMX with friends and family.
Cory Nastazio, talking to kids, right after getting the award for winning best trick. #steveemigphotos
