Collectible DBZ Merchandise Revives Dead Blog.

I do love blogging. I think blogs are an important, relevant medium for original content. And I think the challenge that the internet represents for hard media like print and dvds is competition in the healthiest sense of the word.

If anything, the instant, fleeting nature of the internet highlights the slow, tactile pleasure of turning glossy pages with your fingers and the rich feeling of a well curated bookshelf.

It is in a similar metaphorical sense that this blog has laid dormant for the past three years, while my life has been consumed by numerous other very satisfying, damn tangible, rather long-term projects -- most notably, our second child Theo and the gut renovation of our first house.

To say that the arc of DBZ's past three years have been somewhat more tumultuous would be an understatement. But as of summer 2013, his life is approaching a level of stability that I would call borderline domestic. He's back in Portland, happily married, gainfully employed at a job he "loves," and this spring he produced two excellent zines that no bmx archivist will want to be without.

I think the term "zine" shortchanges the visual force of these staple-bound pieces, which showcase not just DBZ's obsessively refined graphic aesthetic, but also his skill for page layout. And he can write like a motherfucker.

Noumenal Room is a weighty collection of illustrated essays from DBZ's blog. Topics range from skateboarding and bmx to architecture and typography to cigarettes and pornography. 52 pages. Order here for $13.

I dogmatically believe that being "at a loss for words" is just weak writing, but hell if I can articulate what D/I/T/C/H/W/I/Z/A/R/D "is." I guess you could say it's a collection of found images, far greater than the sum of its parts. Leave it on your coffee table or toilet and see if your graphic designer friends don't ask what the hell it is and where they can get one. It's one of my prized possessions. 12 pages, includes screenprinted Raccoon patch. Order here for $5.

If you're not inclined to buy, you can still get your free daily online DBZ fix via blog, Tumblr and Twitter, none of which are safe to click at work.

Stranger than...

On the Burnside drawbridge, waiting for a passing tugboat, observed this fellow bicycle commuter talking to the air. BMXers will immediately identify the clear Odyssey Twisteds.

Gravity-Powered.

The "Gravity Powered Vehicle mini craze" was long dead by 1988, but I'm not surprised to find the mantle raised again and burning brightly in Portland, Oregon, 2010, just ten blocks downhill from the Zoobomb pile.

Saturday night, my cousin Trey and I happened upon this fellow parked at Voodoo Doughnut, and I instantly identified his custom "GPV" as a DK SOB.

"It was the heaviest frame I could find," hippie Clint explained (as per the gravity-powered premise).

Although it's a confusing sight at first, the bike is sitting right-side-up, with a seat welded to the chainstay wishbone. The handlebars underneath turn 90 as knee rests, and you can see disc weights hanging down below.

The handlebars (SBC 4-piece Strips) also turn 90 but remain inverted, with curved tubing tack welded in place for additional hand positions. (Also note the vintage S&M Ditchforks.)

Clint says he stopped riding bmx around 2001, and after we waxed bmx-nostalgic for a few minutes, asked if I knew of anyone selling a complete bike for cheap. "Nothing too light," he said. I said I would put him in touch with someone who might be able to help and took down his email address.

(Caleb, I'm looking at you.)

...

Two nights later, Trey and I were out on another late ride when the red foldie suddenly fell apart in Trey's hands. He avoided crashing, but I confess that his look of bewilderment was priceless, as the bike slow-motion folded in half beneath him. Serendipitously, we were just then directly in front of Voodoo, and so were Clint and his taxi, reggae gently bumping. He was quick to offer his help and the use of his tools. The confusing repair took our combined concentration more than ten minutes to work out, bending and hammering and furrowing our brows, everything finally slipping together effortlessly in one fabulous aha moment. A cotter pin from Clint's tool bag clipped it all permanently in place.

The satisfaction of the experience was palpable, not to mention the value of Clint's tools, the cotter pin, and not having to walk a bike home. We expressed our gratitude and insisted on tipping him a few bucks, against his protests.

Pocket Journals.

In my systematic quest for the perfect pocket journal, I bought the smallest size notebooks available from every brand I could find. Two years of hard testing later, here are my conclusions.

...

Moleskine Plain Reporter Notebook.

3-1/2 x 5-1/2, black only, $12.00.

I bought three different Moleskines, but this is the only one that saw significant use. The Moleskine dimensions are pretty good for a back pocket, and the slick, fake leather binding slides in and out easily. For writing while standing up, the Reporter sits nicely in your hand.

I'm not crazy about the Moleskine paper, which is thinner and yellower than the other brands, but I cope. Moleskine does a sketchbook with different paper for drawing and painting, and elsewhere on the internet you can find artists hotly debating the technical performance of paper under various media. All I really have an opinion about is how well it works as journal in my pocket.

I liked this one a lot initially, but after a while the cover started wearing badly, at which point I retired it. I assume the other Moleskines would wear in the same way. See photos below.

Other features: elastic closure band, expandable pocket.

...
Moleskine Japanese Album.

3-1/2 x 5-1/2, black only. $9.60.

One continuous, zigzag-folded page. I really love this and am saving it for use as a future travel journal. One reason I think the Moleskine Reporter Notebook wore out is that I took too long filling it up. But when travelling, I journal feverishly, filling pages like I'm on meth--I could fill this up in a few weeks before it had the chance to fall apart. Also, I feel like the continuous page would be conducive to obsessive, stream-of-consciousness documentation, a la Kerouac (or something).

And the paper is thicker and more durable, almost card stock.

Other features: elastic closure band, expandable pocket.

...

Moleskine Plain Notebook.

3-1/2 x 5-1/2, black or red,$12.00.

Not much left to say about Moleskines, but this one does come in red.

Other features: bookmark string, elastic closure band, expandable pocket.

...

Sparco Brand Reporter's Notebook.

4-1/2 x 8, $21.30 for a pack of twelve.

The newspaper where I interned in 2008 had an unlimited supply of these. They do make you feel like a journalist, but what a hassle to use! Thin cardboard; ugly lined paper; floppy oversized dimensions that won't fit in any pocket. At least the cover folds back out of the way, which none of these others can do.

...

Hand-Book Travelogue Journal, Pocket Landscape.

3-1/2 x 5-1/2, many colors, $7.99.

Many artists swear by these sketchbooks. Even if you're just journaling, it's a tactile delight pulling an inky pen across the thick, toothy, bright, buff-colored paper. The construction feels robust and high quality.

But it's just a little thick to carry in your pocket every day. My wife eventually appropriated this one for Markie, our two-year-old daughter, who gets to put a sticker in it as a reward for using the potty.

Other features: bookmark string, elastic closure band, expandable pocket, reasonable price, many colors and configurations, including square!

...

Derwent Faux Suede Journal.

3-1/2 x 5-1/2, black or tan, $7.95.

This measures exactly the same dimensions as the HandBook brand sketchbook above--that is to say, a little thick for my pocket. I also doubt the durability of the faux suede cover.

And yet I really, really like this one. The tan suede with black details looks and feels great, construction is high quality, and the paper is extremely white (pickier artists may find it a little smooth). It's a smart, classy package. No surprise that my wife took it as her own. This would make a great gift.

It has the same bookmark string, elastic band, and expandable pocket as all the rest, as well as a second pocket inside the front cover. Reasonably priced.

...

Homemade Journal.

I used to always carry a folded sheet of paper in my pocket to jot down ideas and questions throughout the day. During my foreign study in college, I used this technique for journalling, and came home four months later with a crammed folder of embarrassingly disheveled paper scraps.

Later, after I got married, perhaps thinking my journalling habits could benefit from a little formality, I started fashioning staple-bound books out of card stock. I liked the DIY project, but these never fared well under prolonged pocket use.

Not particularly durable or pretty, but inexpensive and fun to figure out. I've made these in all sorts of sizes and arrangements. I didn't measure this one, but you can see that it's about as long as the pen. These were the inspiration for the pocket journal search.

...

Pentalic a la Modeskin Book.

3x4, many colors, $2.95.

The Pentalic has emerged as my journal of choice. 3x4 is approximately the size of my wallet--absolutely perfect.

It's crazy that Moleskine, HandBook, and Derwent aren't already doing their own 3x4's. The Pentalic construction and materials are unimpressive, compared with these other brands (though the paper is still thicker than than Moleskine paper). You can see in the photos below that the book is actually in separate pieces now. That's not normal wear--Markie did it--though I don't think she could tear apart a Moleskine, Handbook, or Derwent with the same ease. It bugged me at the time, but I've forgotten to care, since it just doesn't seem to matter. The elastic band holds everything together and I never think about it.

The cheap rubber cover is extremely durable and is showing the nicest patina of any of these books.

Other features: bookmark string, elastic closure band, expandable pocket, impossibly low price, many colors.

I'm ordering a bunch more of these Pentalics soon, in a variety of colors. With a new one that isn't falling apart, I have a plan to let it replace my actual wallet, with just my few cards and I.D. tucked into the pouch.

The pocket journal catches most of my stray thoughts and questions, as an aid to my unreliable memory, but I've fallen out of the habit of journaling seriously for the sake of posterity or nostalgia. When that inclination comes back around, as I know it will, the other journals will find use at my bedside or in my backpack.

They won't go to waste.

Caleb Evenson's Roadtripmobile/Home.

Since his return to Portland in early June, our good friend Caleb Evenson has (as previously mentioned) been living out of a nondescript minivan, parked on various Southeast neighborhood streets.

He was rooming at DBZ's in December, when a surprise rent increase effectively evicted the entire household. The unemployed South Dakota native returned to the family farm to work, save, fire out a semester of college, and outfit his future home on wheels.

Caleb traces his love for the minivan to a storied 1994 Plymouth Voyager that accumulated 212,000 miles and two cracked blocks before being laid to rest. This one, a 94 Dodge Caravan with 105k, is "just a baby, practically," he says.

Caleb intends to find employment at some point, and then housing. Until then, he seems to be living rather comfortably on about five dollars a day (he estimates), showering at friends' houses. I crossed paths with Caleb at the June bmx video night, and we shot these photos:

Lantern, found in an abandoned meat packing plant; still running off the original battery.
Sleeping quarters. Two bikes. Super 8 camera. Must say, I find that bedding almost irresistably inviting.
21st century nomad. You'd expect to find a laptop computer stashed somewhere in here, but you'd be wrong.
Tailgate.


Side view: pink hubcaps handed down from minivan 1.0; limo tint windows; stray plywood bookshelf.
Stealth.