back EPISODE #3, MAY 2000 (Again, a warning; If you email me in any capacity, it might end up on here. I suppose this Response section is a continuation of "I Check the Mail" in a digital, much more immediate form. If you don't want any of your correspondence read by the eyes of who-knows, please just let me know. Thanks, Andy Jenkins) MORE GENERAL RESPONSES Date: 4/25/00 I must admit that I'm disappointed in myself for not having kept up correspondence. nonetheless I've been following your exploits (those I know of) whith a smile. Daily's book was better than good. and bendpress.com is, as I said, beautiful. I particularly love the photograph of the rooftop sign, shot from the side. Truly beautiful. My exploits of late have been plenty. Random photographs and the like. But since I lack the time (or more accurately the motivation) to show, to make myself feel better, I've convinced myself that what I'm (not) doing is actually worthy of a movement. Private art. Is there such a thing? can there be such a thing. I'm not sure, but just look under my bed. —Rob Ben, Toronto, Cananda Date: 4/26/00 I liked your site. Very Interesting. I especially liked the part about visiting Gator. Keep up the good work. —Jim Gray Is this the Jim Gray of "Gray Slide" fame? How'd you find Bend? —A Yeah, this is the old Gray Slide himself, Acme Skateboard guy. I was just checking out hardcloud.com and followed the links. I think we met a long time ago, but I am not 100% sure. Didn't you used to have something to do with Homeboy? Are you still at Girl? We used to print alot of girl boards a long time ago. Keep in touch, and keep up the good work!! —Jim Date: 4/26/00 Web site looks good. I'm spinning my wheels waiting for another computer to finish something, and it certainly made me smile. Enjoy, —Christian Kline, Seattle, WA Date: 5/1/00 Drew Carlinson, Saw the Response section and felt the love. Nice, nice baby. Thanks. Keep on fuckin', bro. I got a haircut from an old school barber the other day. Those chain salons just can't get my shit tight, so I thought I would go to the source. The dude I found had a large, goofy hat collection plus those cheesey credos that decorated the wall like "if you wanted it done yesterday, why did you wait until tommorrow to ask for it", "official hair restorer", etc. This was the place for me. I sat in the chair and the barber (probably in his 60s) started to buzz away when the phone rang. He was talking about a vacation he was going to take in San Antonio. When he hung up I told him I had visited San Antonio last year and thought it was beautiful. The barber said he was going to take his wife, two daughters, and grandchildren to meet up with his cousin in Texas, "Me and the wife have been vacationing on Padre Island (near Corpus Cristy) for over 25 years". He went on,"We like Padre Island because there are more high quality Texans there than Mexicans." What the hell does he mean by that?, I thought. Were the Texans in the rest of the state substandard when compared to their Mexican counterparts? I knew exactly what he meant. This guy was a racist pig. It was too bad. He did a hell of a job on my hair. No tip for Mr. Wizard. A couple of weeks ago I was drinking in a bar with my girlfriend in downtown Minneapolis when a priest (probably in his 70s) walked in, sat down next to me, ordered a scotch and lit up a Virginia Slim. There was a woman with him that kept whispering in his ear about his schedule. "How come you young kids aren't in uptown Minneapolis tonight?" he asked. "The uptown scene is much younger and "hipper". Those bars get so packed," I told him. "I really don't enjoy myself when I have to fight a crowd to get a drink." "It's nice to know that young people still appreciate a quiet setting. I know I do. My church is having a fund raiser upstairs," he said. "You should come on up." "Thanks", I said. the woman told the priest, "We should probably go back upstairs." He put out his Virginia Slim, finished his drink and stood up. My coat had been sitting on his seat when he sat down, so I had moved it. "Don't forget your coats," he said. Then he moved in closer and whispered in my ear, "I thought about stealing them, but decided it wasn't a good idea." He laughed and the woman led him away. He seemed like a good man and as Flannery O'Conner said "a good man is hard to find". Heh heh heh. Hugs and fishes, —Oak "Tree" Kelsey Date: 5/2/00 Blue, coffee grounds, manure, headset, pipe-fitting, arsenic rotund, tiling, burrows, little monkeys, pigs, burnt toast, sophocles, sundial, roadrunner, dustbunny, ammo, furclip and horses. —Don Pendleton (see attachment) Date: 5/3/00 Andy: After two weeks on the road (seeing people in the East, covering BMX events for European magazines, family deaths, etc.), I am finally in San Diego. DSL availability is being researched on a small khaki house. If we (my soon-to-be roommate Ben and I) are to acquire said pants-colored dwelling, we should be in within the week. My recent days are long and hectic and my current nights are spent stealing sleep from the tight confines of a closet. No lie. We got here Friday night, but Saturday was the real first day. We hooked up with Chris Mullins (my boss) and did some looking around the city, went to the beach, ate some Mexican food, drank some beer and ended up at Swank's house. Tod has Guinness on tap! In his fucking house! A few highlights from the transcoastal trip: • My friend Ben's car (in which we made said trip), after being packed witheverything we could possible stuff into it, transformed into an invisible, intrepid, nocturnal, mobile singularity. • My friend in Austin, TX, Steve Mayo dresses like a homeless menthol cigarette. • Somewhere in the middle of day #4, the space-time continuum folded itself into an origami pterodactyl and we couldn't figure out what time it was. Hope all is well with you. Be in touch and such, —Royc. Date: 5/4/00 Andy, I don't think you look anything like this guy... —Rob Abeyta (see attachment) Date: 5/5/00 Andy, In this older age I have come to find an answer to a question that lingered in my mind for years. Whether it be in an issue of FREESTYLIN', or the catalog section of LOFT, or anywhere in between —there was always a reference to FACTORY. Sure, the shirts were great. And as any kid would, I wanted one. But what the hell was this thing? Did it mean something? Was it just one of those studies in form before function, art for art's sake? No. As I crawled through the Bend Press site one day I found it. It was a band. You're kidding me. The only bands I remember reading about in any of the pubs were MILK and RACECAR. Well. Whatever. Time's have come and gone but I still feel like I am missing something. So, as I get down on my knees, let me ask: Is there any way I can get ahold of a recording or something? I'd love to hear it. To close this gap and fill it with the knowledge and experience of FACTORY. Let me know. Thanks. —Heath Balderston, Wichita, KS No promises, but maybe I'll post some of that noise some day. —A Date: 5/9/00 From: oak kelsey <oakkelsey@yahoo.com> Subject: stag party Rocky mountain oyster, "You look like Jesus! I'm gonna get you high!", yelled the tall, scummy looking stranger who was holding on to the lapels of my courduroy coat. Shit, he just came out of nowhere. I could see by the grin on his short buddy's face, that this guy probably wasn't going to punch my lights out. To my right was my friend, Wayne, the raging genius and guitar/sax master. We were at T.J. Finnigan's, a bar in Mankato, Minnesota, celebrating my longtime friend Jake's bachelor party. Jake was at the other end of the bar with a naked blow-up doll strapped to his back and was wearing a hand-markered t-shirt that said "sex machine 1994". The crazy-eyed drunk leaned into me and asked, "Do you have anything to get high with?" "No", I said. "Well find something," he said, "Because i'm gonna get you high!" He then let go of my coat leaving Wayne and I stunned. This was definatly the craziest bachelor party I'd ever been to. The only one that came close was the previous spring where we had a bottle rocket fight out of moving cars and watched two male dogs screw each other all night. Now that's what I call a stag party. We had been to Mankato's only strip joint, Metler's, before Finnigan's and then our posse was going to a party. Wayne and I slithered around the bar, dodging our new acquaintence who had mistaken me for the son of God. It was a successful slip for about an hour, then just as before, they came out of nowhere, giving us a nasty jolt. The scummy, screaming heathen was a paler color now, and his short, equally intoxicated sidekick had started doing the talking. "You guys should come over to our place and get high. It's just around the corner", he said. The heathen started screaming again. "We live at 206 Riverside Avenu! This guy looks like Jesus!" His buddy had his arm around me now and as his friend spoke he slowly moved his arm down my side in a subtley caressing manner. Just before his hand got to my ass I jumped away and yelled, "206 Riverside Avenue! We'll be there dude!" I quickly walked to the bar and ordered another drink. About a half hour later I was standing near the door as my two new pals were leaving. "We're going across the street to drink some more, Jesus. You gotta come along," said the original crazy. He put his arm around my neck in a headlock fashion and pulled me out of the bar. I gave him the slip in the middle of the street and hid behind a car. Our stud party moved to a house party and I watched a guy I graduated from high school with in his underwear chasing a girl in her's. They were laughing and ended up in the bathroom together. The blow up doll was now on the kitchen floor and guys were sticking various cooking utensils in various orafices. By this time Wayne was sleeping and I struck up a conversation with a lovely lass who's father owned a really cool art gallery in Minneapolis that I had been to. She ended up taking me back to her place and I spent the night there. I figured it was only because I was the only guy not penetrating the blow-up doll with a salt shaker. I ended up sleeping in her bed with her, but we didn't even kiss. I probably should have tried, but then again, I had a hell of a night anyway. I always shave at Mankato parties, —Oak Kelsey Date: 5/11/00 Ah yes Mr. Jenkins. Just wanted to thank you for doing what you do. The motorcycle photo was taken out of the car window on the way to see fugazi a few years ago. If you would like to see more of my randomness let me know. Take it easy, —Tom Date: 5/11/00 Dear Friend with a capital "F", This is a serious call for information, although it may appear to be disguised as a misguided prank: Anyone who may have information, anecdotes, reminiscences, or stories regarding children's sleep deprivation and/or odd sleep patterns caused by radiator noise, please contact me. I am hoping for truthful accounts only, and am narrowing my scope to those who grew up or are still growing up or have children who are growing like weeds in the New England area only. Your anonymity assured, if need be. Thank you, —Joe Polevy, 19 Bradford St., Westford, MA 01886 (978) 692-5871, embrace@tiac.net Not a misguided prank. Book to be published by McSweeney's. —A MORE DIRT OPINIONS... Date: 4/29/00 I still have the paper copy you gave me after the death of DIRT. I kind of like it left unpublished but there is some great work in there so maybe everyone else should be so priveleged. —Janice Jenkins, Portland, OR Date: 4/25/00 That last issue of dirt should really be put out. Really. And I have a question... I heard something about a Spike Jonze book that was getting put together. Any word on that? I'd like to hear about it, or maybe you could email me if it ever gets released. Oh well... thanks. —Rory Wilson Rumors have bounced about for a couple of years now that Bend will publish Spike's photo book. Yes, we've planned on doing one for some time now, but it just hasn't happened. Lots of reasons—just no good ones. Slackers? —A Date: 4/25/00 Dear Mr. Mel, Release the hounds!!! Please please please publish the dead Dirt #8! I was an avid reader and now collector of your infamous mag and enjoyed it ever so much. What more can I say? I'm [also] interested in purchasing some of your publications featuring the works of Evan Hecox and Thomas Campbell... do they exist or have I been the recipient of a nasty rumor? This dang money here is burning a hole in my pocket and I'm dying to give it to you... —Elizabeth Reilly You are, indeed, the recepient of a nasty rumor. I started it. No Evan Hecox or Thomas Campbell publications are planned as of this moment... Check Evan at www.evanhecox.com and look for Thomas's newest film, The Seedling (surf movie). —A Date: 5/4/00 Lets see it. Unearth the words. —Richard Bergez back