Lost in the mountains to Stop Light Observations:
My friends had been smart and brought locks for their bikes. Fuck. My brother had told me to bring a lock for his bike. I was eager to leave and had thrown the bike in the car and left for the ferry.
I’ll buy a lock when I get there.
I rode past the bar and noticed a small shack with a dark fenced in yard. I could hear music inside.
He’s gonna kill me. This is a terrible place to hide a bike. It’s a nice bike too. Fuck, this shack might even be connected to the bar? It can’t be. I need to get inside. It isn’t.
I’ll tell the people inside the shack what I’m doing. Either they’ll tell me to fuck off or be amused by it.
The members of Ripe were crowded into this house preparing to go on stage. They were amused.
‘Terrible spot for a bike’ one of them yells through a smile.
The final installment to Wet Ink, a nostalgic tribute to late nights. Fingers crossed, last and least, we’re moving on.
I’m into Khai and his sound – the drag of a soothing synth interrupted by the slap of an electronic drum snare, all held together by clean vocals.
As I rummaged around his Facebook looking for some eye-glazing info to introduce this young talent to listeners, I smiled as I found the single line on the bio tab of his page:
“Midi-chlorian count: 7,200″
‘As little kids we used to catch him staring. Unblinking and wide eyed, he’d watch couples argue at our favorite Chinese restaurant. We ridiculed him for staring, telling him it was weird and unnerving, but years later I’m realizing that even at a young age he was just a keen observer with an eye for critical details.
This same razor-sharpe awareness for people and place is evident in a recent edit he made about his study abroad experience in South Africa, earning him a spot as the Adventure of the Week.’