
Recently, I got an email from this fella, Ian Marshall who’s read my lovely lil’ corner of the blogspace and was into my scene enough to send out a copy of his new magazine, Wend. Naturally, I read it cover-to-cover in a sitting and think, “Ah ha!” I get it. A mag that covers travel, adventure and environment with a elegant sense of depth of spirit. I wonder what kind of crazy adventure could I get myself into, write about, and have these fellas publish for me? Hmmm… Stay tuned on that.
These guys also have a blog that’s worth a read. They’re posting up all sorts of cool adventure and culture shit that slides in just beneath the annoying ‘extreme’ label, but high above… WrestleMania, say.

Speaking of WestleMania, my pals and I have taken it upon outselves to hit up Dollar Bowling night deep in the heart of South Jersey on Monday nights at Westbrook Lanes. See, for all the extreme sport out there in the world, nothing says “love!” like dollar shoes, dollar games and a cold frosty one-thin-dollar Budweiser in a plastic cup while yr throwin’ strikes. Well, okay, spares, mostly. Oh, hell. We’re topping out at 140’s. Okay, some of us don’t break 100. Yeah, you get the idea.

So anyways, WrestleMania or some fashion of greasy oiled-up wrestle dudes are always zonking us out with their flashy, flashy up on the boobtube in between frames. They got the tele on full blast in there, and for people who don’t own, much less watch TV these days, it’s hard to look away. What force! What brute! Is this what I’ve been missing! And since when is Donald Trump in on the deal? Weird. It’s almost too surreal to be true. Oh, wait. It’s not true. Uh, oh. Man, what a mind-f**k.
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