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Posted on November 25, 2020August 1, 2022 by matty — Leave a comment

Go Ask Alice

In the image of Kate Moss’ classic Supreme photo shot by McLellan, Alice was the first ever original design I did, which sounds contradictory, and it kinda is, but it kinda isn’t. Both of these muses were already in existent, one being a real person and one being a fictional character, but it was fun to make them into one. I love Kate Moss, who doesn’t. And I love Alice, who doesn’t. She is one of my favorite characters ever written. So it is theorized that maybe Lewis Carroll was kind of a weirdo and Alice was fashioned for some weirdo reasons, but wow , could he write. The way he was able to catch in writing the curiosity, playfulness, and the true innocence of a child is a wonder. Alice is just so fun.

“It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ and see whether it’s marked ‘poison’ or not.’”

With that being said, it is rather a dark read when you read into it, and it’s not very hard to read into it. When she is lost down in Wonderland, it is one giant trip. She happens to stumble upon a smoking caterpillar who gets her to take mushrooms. Well he doesn’t say it like that, but that’s how it went down. And the most evil thing about it is that he doesn’t even explain what the aftermath is going to be. He just tells her that one side of the mushroom will make her smaller and one will make her bigger. That’s some wild shit that she just does it, but that’s why you got to love her. Also, on a darker note, she was immortalized in Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit.” If the book isn’t trippy enough for you, the song will get the job done. “Poor Alice when she was just small. Go ask her what the Dormouse said: Feed your head. Feed your head.”

I would imagine that if we got to see Alice grow up, she would’ve been a good time. I imagine her growing into herself in the late 60s, early 70s, probably in San Francisco around Haight-Ashbury, getting into some crazy shit. That’s why she was my favorite crossover character to do. Sure, I’ve done Cinderella, Jasmine, Belle, and all the like, but it’s hard to believe one of them actually smoking a cigarette. They’re too wholesome for that. But Alice, I’ll totally buy that. I wouldn’t doubt that it was laced with something either.

So to be completely honest, I prefer, aesthetically, Disney’s take on Alice to the original illustrator John Tenniel. I’ll give it to him. His was definitely more trippy. There’s no doubt about that. I also once had the pleasure of seeing Dali’s take on the series in an exhibition in Berlin, and that was as crazy as you would imagine. All in all though, I think the gang of animating directors at Disney killed it. The color scheme is just perfect. There’s something about the way that blue, yellow and white go together. I’ve always been one for colors and I love that pallet.

When I first had the idea of doing a Kate Moss crossover, Alice was the obvious first choice for me. At the time, the idea was all still so new to me that it took forever to get her drawn. I must’ve sketched and re-sketched her 20 times. That was the fun part, though. Along with the love for color I love the original process of figuring a painting out. It took me some time, but in the end I think I got pretty close. From there, after I got it all worked out, I went down my own little rabbit hole with that design, and I’ve found myself coming back to it over and over.

This last series is a little different. Primarily I work with acrylic and canvas. Recently I’ver been screwing around on procreate too, but I would rather do something with actual materials and not a fake pencil and a screen and a setting that perfects my lines for me. This time I tried out a new medium. I can’t say I found it. Rather, someone introduced it to me.

I have this friend Jay Ray. He’s one of the kindest, funniest, most kind-hearted people I have ever met, and I’m glad to call him my best friend. One day not too long ago, Jay Ray got really into building things. You should see his garden. That place is a wonderland in its self, and pretty much everything was hand made. It was a skill that I never knew he had. I don’t even know if he knew he had it. He has, though. He has.

So one day he calls me and he’s like, “Yo! I’ve got this dope idea. I was at Lowes the other day and I was looking at these tiles and I thought about you. Well, actually, I thought about your Alice and I was thinking we could do something together.” What a great attribute of art- the process of collaboration. He came over with these tiles and shared his vision. And then I took my own vision and we went back and forth until our double vision became one and we got it all planned out. Per usual we mucked it up a couple times. And then we got it right.

I talk crap on technology, but I’ll tell you what, it can and does make the life of an artist easier. I had Alice drawn up on my Ipad, so we sized it and then went to Kinko’s to get it printed on card stock so I could make a stencil out of it. That was the only way I was going to get it on there. It was white porcelain- the grid trick doesn’t work there. So I laid the stencil down and then Jay Ray took the tiles and said that he had a plan. He kept sending me pictures of his plan and it just kept getting better and better. In the end he took the tiles, baked them, glazed them, glued them (I’m sure there’s a better word for that, but I don’t know it) to a planter he built by hand, and grouted the whole thing. Then to top it off, he built a planter for it and even fashioned it with a bed of flowers.

So to come full circle, the dudes at MAS hooked me up with a spot at their Small Business Saturday, and I wanted to do an Alice painting for my display. An Alice painting, as in one. And I knew what I wanted to do it on, so I went to Lowes and found the tile section that Jay Ray had taken me to a few months back. I came for one tile, but then I was like, screw it lets do some mushrooms, so I bought a bunch of coaster sized tiles. And then I was about to leave and I saw one size bigger, so I took a bunch of those too. And then I saw these big tiles and I was like I’ve got an idea for those, too. So I got three. And then I was walking down the aisle on the way to the checkout line when I saw another set of tiles that I liked so I got a few more.

The next thing I know I’m sitting in front of way too much material, grinning like the Chesire Cat. I had so many ideas. I spent four days from sun up to sun down working on this project. I didn’t want to do the same thing on every one so I mixed it up. I played with a bunch of psychedelic colors on the mushrooms. I was doing this other psychedelic painting at the time for a friend of an octopus that looked like a mushroom in bright colors, so, I while I was waiting for that to dry, I used the same colors on this series. Once everything was finished (today) I did as Jay Ray taught me and I baked them, glazed them in the garage (which I shouldn’t have done in a confined space. That spray was potent and I’m pretty sure it got me pretty high. I’m staying with my mom while I’m in Fresno and she was rightfully disgruntled because that smell had more than just crept into the house. It was like a fog, and I’m pretty sure she and my dog, and the cats were high as Alice too.)

And right now they’re still marinating in the garage. I’m not sure but I think in the morning they’ll be ready to go. I’ll go ask Alice. I think she’ll know.

“When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead

And the White Knight is talking backwards

And the Red Queen’s off with her head

Remember what the Dormouse said

Feed your head, feed your head”

Posted on May 18, 2020August 22, 2022 by matty — Leave a comment

The History of Kate Moss and Me

“Let’s talk about Kate Moss. I love Kate Moss. I always think the key thing with her is the history, you know, the informality of her early shots compared to high fashion stuff, so you always know that underneath she’s still just the same cheeky normal girl…” These aren’t my words. They are the words of Tim from a movie called About Time. I don’t know if this quote subconsciously stuck with me and therefor influenced my perception of Kate Moss and/or this photograph, but either way it’s perfectly said. And that is exactly the feeling I got when I first saw this photograph shot by Alasdair McLellan- Moss is in a leopard-print jacket over a Supreme t-shirt. The name Supreme may be very recognizable today- the distinctive red box logo- but it was once just another skate company. What a great example of high art meeting low art.

In this day and age, the two arts of high and low have never been more intermingled. Take for instance Trasher, another skateboarding company which is undeniably the king of skateboarding in the moment. You might have seen Justin Bieber, Rihanna, or any other of America’s young sweethearts sporting that burning logo. There’s an argument in the skate community that this is taboo. On the other side, you’ve got professional skaters going all Gucci on us. Frankly, I don’t care either way, the point I’m making is that before all of this, there was this cheeky girl named Kate who was a step ahead of the game, and this iconic photograph is its proof.

I was immediately taken by the image. The composition is both awesome and simple. And on top of that, she looks badass. I had to paint it. Artistically speaking, this photograph was the perfect subject for the way I like to do my work.

I’m not sure if it was the coke bottle with a flower or the ballerina, but it was in that general time that I started to develop, what you call in the art world, “my style.” I think Picasso had a lot to do with it. Out of all the prints I’ve owned over the years, his “Femme,” is the only one that I’ve managed to hold on to. On a blank canvas and in four simple black lines, Picasso depicts a woman’s naked hiney. It’s so simple, yet so beautiful. He felt there was no need to dress it up. And I felt that.

I’m a big picture kind of guy. Spare me the small details, you know. I’m also a very hectic person and I can’t remember the last time life wasn’t chaos. Especially these last 4 years. My art has always been an answer to that. Although this manifested out on to canvas by my own mind and hand, I never gave any thought as to why. That was until, not I, but someone else answered that for me. And when I heard it, it tripped me out. I can still remember the night.

Brandon and I were living at the house on Green in Bedstuy when his girlfriend’s sister came to visit. To be honest, I can’t even remember her name, but I will be forever grateful that she unlocked a secret about myself. She had maybe been at our place for three days as we sat at the kitchen table that was covered with towels and half-painted canvases. There was another handful of canvases on the floor and about 15 finished pieces hung on the walls throughout the whole apartment. I hung those things up like our house was my own little gallery. (Props to B too for being cool with that). Anyway, one night she sat across the table at a barstool next to the window and watched me paint. We didn’t talk much. It was quiet and peaceful.

Then out of nowhere she turns to me and aaks, “Do you ever think about why you do your paintings the way you do?” I asked her what she meant. “I mean your style,” she said. “Look at these-” she pointed first to the pineapple painting in front of me, then to all the pieces hung up in the dining room. “They’re perfect. There’s not a line out of place.” Please don’t misunderstand neither her nor me right here. She didn’t mean perfect as in the work of a master, but the way in which I tried to master each line of every painting. I’m totally OCD about it. I thought about her question to no avail and she continued, “Do you ever think that maybe you try to get them so perfect because it is the one aspect of your life of which you’re in control?”

My heart stopped at this. It is a crazy feeling having someone tell you a secret about you that you didn’t even know yourself. It was dead quiet for a quick second and and then from down the hall, we hear Brandon yell, “Damn. That was deep.” We were both caught off guard by all this- by what she said, that she got it just right, and on top of it all off, that Brandon heard all of it go down from the living room. Everyone laughed and I later came to the conclusion that, no, I had never thought about it, but it made perfect sense.

In my freshman year of college I took art 101, or whatever it was called. Credits for painting, that was chill with me. And although I screwed around a lot in class, I added to my knowledge of the basics. After the semester I went paint crazy. You should have seen the makeshift studio I made myself. I was the only kid left at the parents house so there were two spare bedrooms, and boy, did I ever fuck up that room by the front door. There were so many holes in the wall and so much paint stained to my mom’s nice wooden floors which would have to be taken out anyways because of a flood. In the meantime, I worked like a maniac in that studio. I went through so many phases in that time, painted a million different ways. I wish I still had all of those early paintings. It would’ve been fun to see the progression.

Come to think of it, it was actually the Coke bottle with the flower that I did in this style first. It was a little Warhol, it was a little Picasso, it was a little of me experimenting. After I did it in white, I did it in black. Then came the ballerina which I did in black and white, as well. I don’t have the original four, but I have the remakes in my room right now, and they’re still a few of my favorites. From there on out, I haven’t looked back in regards to style. However as to the medium, which simply means with what the painting was created, I found a little trick. I can remember the last painting I did with purely paint brushes. I still see it every time I go to Hermosa and visit Paul. I It hangs in his room. It’s of a girl lying on a bed with her legs lounging on the wall.

That one took a long time, and it didn’t make it any easier having to sketch the character over dry paint. And on top of that, it was a dark background, so the woman had to be outlined in white. If you’ve ever worked with acrylic, white is terribly difficult color to achieve a bold line, as apposed to black. However, regardless of color, painting straight lines gets rather tedious. It’s wait till it dries and then go back over it a million times.

Thankfully I happened to stumble upon acrylic paint pens while at the art store one day. I had never even heard of them, but what a blessing they became. Now, what used to take me hours, takes much less. I still have to go over it a few times, and I still have to wait till it dries, but whatever, who cares.

My brother once asked me, “Do you think because you use pen as apposed to brushes that it devalues your art?” Like it was cheating or something. I can see where he’s coming from, but my answer is the same today as it was then. No, I don’t. What’s the difference if the final product looks exactly the same? In fact, it probably makes it better because it’s not a waiting game, and if there’s one thing I hate in life, it’s waiting. Plus, it gives me more time to work on the next one.

The painting of Kate was the first one of its style and changed the game for me. I did the first one a couple of years ago. Initially I sketched it. Figuring out a painting is my favorite part of the process. When I got it how I wanted, I laid it down in pencil on a thick piece of paper the size of the canvas I intended to use. After that was finished, I was going to transfer the image to the canvas, using the same grid system, which would’ve taken forever. So I thought to myself, why not just cut a stencil out of the one that was already on paper and transfer it over rather painlessly- just tracing some lines. I am quite accustomed to making stencils. I used to make them all the time and spray paint them on my board, so doing Kate was kinda second nature. She took some time to get just right, but the what I spent there, I got back on the back end.

For me though, art’s not all about the subject, it’s also about how you make that subject work. That’s where color theory comes into play. I love messing around with different palates trying to find the perfect mixture and balance. So I played around with her, first with the colors, then I started to make variations of the same image. Still using her pose, but with different characters/people. The series ended up consisting of about ten or so. Two of which I kept, a few were given to friends and for the rest of them, who knows. Last year while in Germany I got hooked up with a place to do an art show, so I asked my mom to roll up the paintings and send them over. Unfortunately they never showed up. Neither did they return to sender. For all I know they’re sitting in some warehouse storage, or more likely have been long since thrown away.

Not too long ago I was a bit beat up and couldn’t get out much due to a sprained ankle I got for Christmas. I was a bit down mentally too. The transition back to Fresno was tough. Whenever I’m in the dumps, painting is the perfect outlet, so I decided to re-visit the Kate Moss painting. Originally I had done a couple Disney-themed Kate’s, namely Snow white and Alice. I liked them so much that I did them again. And then I was like, you know what, I’m gonna roll with this. It was fun. So, one by one, I started working my way through the princesses. I got all the classics, and even added in a few randoms.

And, through this series of events, came the series of Kate. Thank you Kate for being who you are and thank you McLellan for capturing it. I literally, couldn’t have done it without either of you.

And that’s the history of Kate and Me.

Posted on September 17, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

France and Such

(Preface…Originally I was going to write a new piece about the trip I took to Europe last year, mainly highlighting the side trip to Nice, France with the Muenster Titus Skateboard team, but after I started, and I was already on page 7, I realized it was way more than just about skating. It also had to do with before the skate trip and then about everything that happened in Berlin after the skate trip. So I put the thing on ice with the hopes of someday finishing it. For now, here’s the translated version of what was printed in Brettkollegen.)

[vimeo 288236109 w=640 h=360]

Dope Bro Tour 2017 Titus Munster

There were only two rules for getting on the bus in Muenster to France. The first was that you better be on time. The second was that there was no drinking in the car because it wouldn’t be fair to the drivers. That was a good joke, both rules, for no one was on time, and out of the nine people who filled the bus, six were drunk. Thank God for the other three, because without them, we wouldn’t have made it.

Google maps predicted that the 1,332 kilometer drive would take 16 hours. That’s what Google maps said. What do you think the six in the back who were drunk said? “We need to piss/smoke! Pull over!” And as we got closer to our destination and the buzz wore off, it became, “Pull over! He’s got to puke!”

We had a guest rider along with us, but in all reality, we were actually his guests, because it was to his home we were going. After 18 hours, we reached Benjamin “Benedict” Botta’s house, which was hidden in a huge forest in Antibes, France, right outside Nice. The first thing we did was pitch our tents, then we set up the table underneath the tree, which became our Stammplatz for the next six days.

Every day started and ended around that little plastic table. That’s where the early risers would gather and wait for the rest to wake up. On the first morning, when we were all ready to go, the filmer, Christian “Christoph” Bluemle said, “Wait! What the Fuck? Where’s my board?” After an hour search, we gave up, and Botta pieced him a board together. He had everything except the most important thing- screws, but we didn’t realize this until later, so at the first spot, everyone took one bolt from their own board so that Bluemle could roll along with us. That’s the perfect analogy for how the trip went-a group that wasn’t just nine random skaters, but a team that was made up of true friends and had each other’s back. We even had our own little nicknames, which Adem “Adrian” Przybyla, gave to us.

We skated from sun up to sun down, or we at least tried, for the French were real assholes and they went to great lengths to make sure we didn’t get to have any fun, like the old lady who tried to sick her dog on Tabo “Taubsi” Löchelt or the other old lady with the bucket of water. It was nothing, however, that was going to stop the team. From Leon “Leonard” Merschmann with the slaughter of that 6, to Florian “Fabio” Westers who killed just about everything, we got our tricks.

As day became night, we would either get pizza or go to the supermarket to buy groceries for the BBQ, but after that, it was right back to the table where we had some of the best seshes of the tour. First we would have a photo/footy check with the whole crew huddled around the computer. Then we would drink beers, smoke joints, and play our favorite game, “Shithead,” into the wee hours of the night. One by one people would retire to bed, but if you were lucky enough and stayed awake, Adrian would treat us to Marmor Kucken and tell us “bed time stories” from his spot in the back in Botta’s VW bus. His biggest fans were Tom “Tommick,” Schulzte, who slept on the table outside the van, and myself, Matty “Matthias,” Penner who slept next to Adem.

On the sixth day, the crew loaded up the bus and headed to Marseille to the Air BnB where we all had our own bed, and, for the first time, a kitchen, in which Merschmann and Lasse “Lars ” Middendorf cooked home-made spaghetti from scratch. The city was riddled with amazing spots, which were all just a push away from each other, and of course there was the Tony Hawk bowl which Schulze made his own.

After Marseille, we headed back to Botta’s garden where we did more chilling than skating. On the last night was our farewell BBQ, and for the first time, the van left on time. The drive back was pretty much the opposite of the way there, I think everyone had skated and partied themselves out, but I think the whole team would agree that the tour was dope, bro.

***

Original article in German and Video can be found here: https://www.titus.de/news/details/article/dope-bro-tour-2017/

Thank you Adem for inviting me, the photos, and all the Marmo Kuechen

Thank you Christian Bluemle for the extra footage

Thank you Titus Team for having me

Thank you Ben for having us

Thank you Thomas Gentsch for the translation

Thank you BrettKollegen for publishing the article

Posted on July 25, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

“Ode to Linger” (a poem)

“Ode to Linger” (a poem)

White noise and then all the sudden two-way stare

In that bar after class,

Did you know then and there?

I think you did and so did I

And there was never a need to ever lie

We lit a flame

And it burned to the sky

Maybe too bright, maybe too hot

But we didn’t leave it at that

It didn’t fade away

Nope, we kept it burning like a sacred heart

And I’m not sure what you meant

But, it’s tearing me apart

I told you that I would not be true

And you said the same thing too

But I didn’t care and neither did you

I know because we sang it- I’m just a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

I told you, honey, don’t worry,

This is just the ride on our little shooting star

No time to let it linger

I was wrong and I said goodbye

Or at least I tried

Because fate had its say

I missed my plane and with you I had another day

What lingered between us had been distinguished

The flame burnt out

And sinn was washed away

We had one pure night

Nothing anyone could say

But I still chose not to stay

And it had to be let go at that

No need to point a finger

Just know that I’m a fool for you

But it’s not like us to let it linger

Posted on July 20, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

Alles fehlt mir (a poem)

“Alles fehlt mir”

Normalerweise ist es die Zeit des Jahres wenn ich weg fliege

Wenn ich nach mein zweites Zuhause gehe

Wo ich da kein Tourist mehr bin

Sondern ein lokal, wo ich wieder mit meiner andere Familie bin

And darum fehlt alles mir

Weil ich jetzt nicht da bin

Es tut mir weh, dass ich nicht einfach vorbei kommen kann nur hallo zusagen

Und ich vermisse das

Ich vermisse dich

Ich vermisse alles

Ich vermisse meine kleine Wohnung, der auf der Kuhstrasse an dem vierten Stock war

Wo ich gegen über auf dem Bordstein rauchte bevor ich nach oben ging

Wo ich ganz spät abends wach bleibte wegen die ganz laute Bar, die um die ecke war,

die ich manchmal besucht habe wenn ich nicht einpennen konnte

Ich vermisse die Bäckerei

Wo ich jeden Morgen käse Brötchen mit genau 4 stuck Salami und 2 Scheiben Käse bestellt habe

Wo die Kellnerin, die mir nie stress gegeben hat als ich mein Geld vergessen habe und musste wieder kommen

Und mein Tisch, immer der gleiche, wo ich die laufende Studentin angeguckt habe, mein buch gelesen, meine Frühstück genossen, und falls die Nacht vorher zu heavy war, wo ich immer an meine Gedanke gedacht habe

Ich vermisse unser Cafe

Wo wenn wir gluck hatten, gab ein freies Platz auf dem zweiten Stock,

wovon wir haben die Leute angeguckt und einfach gequatscht wahrend des Winter Regen dem Fenster geschlagen hat

Aber weisst du was ich mehr vermisse?

Sommer

Sommer und unsere Stammplatz um die Ecke auf der Strasse, wo wir ganz ganz zu oft draußen am Tisch gesessen haben “fur ein eigenes bier” bis unser drittes Teil kam,

And dannach als wir unsere Fahrräder nach dem Kanal gefahren sind wo wir lag vor dem Wasser mit Frank Ocean immer in Hintergrund.

“That was our every day shit

Our every night shit

Our every day shit”

Und darum fehlt alles mir

Weil ich jetzt nicht da bin

Es tut mir weh dass ich nicht einfach vorbei kommen kann nur hallo zusagen

Und ich vermisse das

Ich vermisse dich

Ich vermisse alles

Ich wurde lugen, falls ich sagte dass ich dich nicht auch mal vermisst habe

Vielleicht ist das nicht erlaubt zusagen, aber wie konnte dass anders sein

Die legen nicht überall in der Stadt, aber einige Orte hat mal auch Erinnerungen

Ich glaube so was heisst Nebenschaden

But I take the good just as I take the bad

And I try to smile about the good times we had

Ich vermisse Stadtwerke,

aber der Grund hat nicht viel mit skaten zu tun

Klar, hat das immer voll spass gemacht, aber ohne alle die immer da waren, ist es einfach nur ein Grundstuck vor dem Kino

Obwohl ihr von verschiedene Side-Crews kam, es war klar zusehen dass ihr alle zusammen gehörte

Und ich bin froh und dankbar dass ihr mir ein teil von euch gemacht habt

Ich empfinde das Liebe, Ich hoffe ihr habt es auch

Ich vermisse der Abend im Babel als wir auf dem Klo ohne-ende gelacht haben

Die Nächte am Kanal wenn wir über das Welt gesprochen haben

Folge deine Traume, habe ich gesagt

Und vergiss nicht

Sing laut und tanz weiter

La Vie en Rose

Ich vermisse Corner

Wenn ich mich vorstelle dass ich in Muenster bin, das Bild in meinem Kopf ist immer auf der Bank vor dem Fenster

Da trifft man Leute, die nicht bei Stadtwerke waren, aber gehören genauso dazu

Tyskie, Kif, Karten, Freunde

Was mehr braucht man?

Ich vermisse die Wohnung gegen über von der Bäckerei

Wo ich teilweise meine eigenes Bett hätte, aber immer ein platz zu schlaffen

Ich denke an euch ganz oft

Und ich wünsche mir dass ich mit euch jetzt da sein konnte

But it’s not all over yet Baby Blue

Und darum fehlt alles mir

Weil ich jetzt nicht da bin

Es tut mir weh dass ich nicht einfach vorbei kommen kann nur hallo zusagen

Und ich vermisse das

Ich vermisse dich

Ich vermisse alles

Posted on June 14, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

Pocahontas (A translation from a song)

At the bus stop and I see you

And it hurts to see you like this again

It hurts that you’re about to jump on and disappear

And it hurts too bad to see you like this

Because you still have so much stuff lying around my house

Too much to even cary

I’m not holding on to you

And I won’t let go

But, you give me more than I asked for

And it’s too much to even cary

I’m sorry Pocahontas

I hope that you know that

I’m so sorry Pocahontas

And I hope that you know that

We’ve been together far too long for you to just stop like you did

But that’s not even a good reason

And I really do care how good you know me

And I really do care what you call me

And I really do care

Where you’re sleeping tonight

I’m sorry Pocahontas

I hope that you know that

I’m so sorry Pocahontas

And I hope that you know that

So sorry, Pocahontas

Pocahontas

I’m sorry Pocahontas

I hope that you know that

I’m so sorry Pocahontas

You know that

I’m not holding on to you

And I wont let go

I’m not holding on to you

Posted on June 11, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

Border Control (Euro ’17)

[vimeo 274527403 w=640 h=360]

1st and tease from matty penner on Vimeo.

To be completely honest, I didn’t even know if this trip was going to happen. I mean it was planned and booked and everything, I just didn’t know if I’d clear customs. Legally speaking I shouldn’t have, because last year I outstayed my visa by six months, which should have barred me from entering back the EU. As an American you’re allowed 90 days every year. I was about to start my 241st. So, just to be careful, before I left I took the extra precaution of getting myself a new passport so they wouldn’t see my old stamps. In the end it was probably a fool’s errand, being that everything these days, especially your passport, is digitally stamped, but I took it anyways because I’ve screwed myself too many times in the past because I forgot to cross my Is or dot my Ts. 😉

Unfortunately, the cheapest flight I found to Europe was Via Manchester. England has one of, if not the strictest, set of rules when it comes to crossing borders. The whole time on the plane over and the whole time I stood in line customs, I sweated the fact that they could simply tell me “no,” wave their finger, and send me packing back home. To my luck they let me pass and I sent up a little prayer.

Now if England isn’t the worst place to fly into, then Germany definitely is, with those strict, bureaucratic, robot Germans and their crazy rules. After I got out of the plane in Dusseldorf, I picked out the line of the Jungfrau with whom I thought I had the best chances. And my luck again paid off because she let me pass too.

So I was good. At least at that point, and at that point my plan was to fly home in two months time, maybe three. It didn’t turn out that way though. It never does.

***

(Muenster)

For the next month, Muenster became my home. Those were some times…

Posted on May 24, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

X Marks the Spot (a poem) Süsses Mädel

Did you just get got?

Or did you just get me?

And is it really that hot?

But, it might only be the lights

Because this game is like a little novella fantasy

And I know the plot

Sleepy days and long nights

X marks the spot

So hey, how about a drink?

Come on, what do you think?

Of course it’s only one

Because we wouldn’t want to have too much fun

Now would we?

Scoot a little closer, my dear

And let me just whisper in your ear

I’ll tell you how it could be

Lydia, you’re beautiful

Yes, please excuse me, that’s right. Lily

I’ll remember that because I once knew a crazy girl by that name

And no, you’re not crazy

No, really, you’re not the same

That’s completely a different story

We all make mistakes,

So sorry, how stupid of me

Please forgive me for that last comment

Lilly, of course, that’s what I meant

It’s just that— your accent

It’s so sweet

It’s so cute

You’re like the treasure I want to lute

The taste of your lips

Sweeter than the forbidden fruit

Really?

What’s that you ask?

Of course

You bet I’m buzzing

I’m buzzing like a bee

And as long as you don’t sting

You could be my queen

I want your honey, girl

I’ll drink you down like sweat tea

So come on lets take a dip

And explore for hidden treasures in your sea

I want to dive deep down

Won’t stop until you plea

Did you just get got?

Or did you just get me?

Did you just get got?

And is it really this hot

Because outside on the patio there’s rain

Our dancing won’t be in vain

And this much I promise

It’ll wash away the pain

However it’s just for the night

Because I fly tomorrow

Way gone and out of sight

And tonight I want to borrow

I’ll take nothing from your pocket

I’ll wear your heart like a locket

I’ll never forget you

I know that’s what they all say

Words are cheap, indeed

But you gotta pay to play

So don’t believe me

But it’s better if you do

I want to show you something you never knew

And believe me, I want to learn too

So just give me the cue

And we’ll see what’s true

I’ll make sure you’re first in line

Together, we’ll see that through

Let’s stop with the shine

No time for games, girl

For my flight’s at nine

So come on, let’s go and toe the line

It’ll be divine

Your Neckline

Waistline

My valentine

With tender kisses

Your body, I’ll outline

Did you just get got?

Or did you just get me?

And is it really that hot?

But, it might only be the lights

Because this game is like a little novella fantasy

And I know the plot

Sleepy days and long nights

X marks the spot

Posted on May 9, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

Black Eyes and Red Lights

I’ve had a lot of good times in Amsterdam, but I think the best moment— one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen— happened the second time I was there when my best friend got punched in the face by a prostitute in the Red Light District.

We must’ve been 18 at the time. It was the first summer after our senior year and I had just moved to this little village in Northwest Germany. We asked my ex-girlfriends parents if it would be ok if two of my friends from California could sleep in their basement for a few days. They said yes, so a couple weeks later the two of them flew into CGN in Cologne. It was only about an hour from home so we went and picked them up. The first friend- Jani (which you pronounce yaw-nee) was right on time. The second one- James, whose name couldn’t sound any more American, was held up. Airport security called it “a random check,” but James said, and I believe him, that, “it was because he was brown.” We had a good laugh at it then loaded in the car and drove back home.

That’s where they got to experience for the first time the “Autobahn.” And just like me they had the concept of Autobahn completely misconstrued. We thought it was just this one stretch of road in Germany where you can drive as fast you want. In reality though, the Autobahn, which literally translates to the “freeway,” runs all throughout Germany, just like at home. So yes, on the way back home we would take the Autobahn. And they were as impressed as I was. We were in this pretty nice Audi that was souped up and flew down the freeway at 280 kilometers an hour. I remember looking at James in the rearview mirror and telling him to buckle up. “What’s the difference,” he asked me, “if you have it on or not when you hit the center divider at 175? You’re gonna die either way.” He was right. You should feel what 175 miles per hour feels like. It’s honestly like you’re flying.

Back in Germany, I introduced them to my friends, and like 18 year olds who are able to legally drink at a bar, we went out every night. The german’s showed us a good time. And so did the Hollanders.

The train from Muenster took us about 2 and a half hours to get to Amsterdam. When we got into Central Station, we rented these red bikes from this place called Mac Bike and road down one of the main streets to our hotel. It wasn’t one of those big chain hotels. It was your typical european private hotel, which is more like a big house. I remember the hotel clerk—some mom-aged chick who probably lived on the top floor with her family— looked at these three little American kids and told them “in under no circumstance was smoking marijuana prohibited in her hotel.”

After we got settled in we did, in the spirit of those three little American kids, exactly what you guessed- we went straight to the first coffee shop we could find. If you’ve ever been to Amsterdam, I’m sure you would recognize the logo or at least the name. It’s called the Bulldog. They have a few locations, even a hostel, but this particular one was in the Leidseplein.

We locked our bikes to these trees in front of this ice-cream and pancake shop next to the Bulldog. At the door we showed our passports and walked down the stairs into the little dungeon like room. It’s real dark down there. And if I remember right, the only lights are red, which give it a deep red, glow. On the right is a bar where you can drink coffee or beer or whatever and at the end there is a menu for weed and a register, which usually has a long line before it. They’re usually all foreigners, so if I had to guess this would be the tourist coffee shop, but that’s just what we were, and I’ve always liked it just the same. I think we all bought a gram each. For some reason I remember either Jani or James getting White Widow but I definitely gut Bubblegum.

From there we got back on our bikes and went for a ride in search of a good place to smoke some weed. Every time I’ve been back to Amsterdam I’ve looked for that original spot we found, but I’ve never seemed to find it. I can still see it in my mind’s eye. Both Jani and James can too because we always talk about it.

It was at this bench among one of the many canals. I’ve never been to Venice, but people always explain it as the city with Canals and I’ve always wondered why Amsterdam isn’t thought of in the same sense. They’re literally everywhere. So somewhere along a canal we take a seat at a green bench. In front of us was the canal with it’s dirty green/brown water on which a few houseboats were parked. And I remember there were ducks all around us. Josh was trying to roll a joint, and he kept dropping all the weed. We told him that he better stop or the ducks were going to come and eat it all and we wouldn’t have any. I also remember that one of us was playing music from our phones because the Eagles “take it easy” was playing. That’s what we kept singing to him, “take it easy, take it easy,” as he fumbled with the joint. To this day, whenever that song comes on and at least two of us are together, we sing it. James still gets pissed. It’s hilarious.

After James had finally managed to roll one up, we smoked and then rode our bikes around the city. That day was one of the highlights of my life. When I think back on it, I can still see a little mental film— I’m in front of the two and we’re riding down the canal away from this little kiosk where we just bought some Candy peach rings. I can still taste the little sugary-sweet things in on my tongue. I don’t remember in what order the rest of the day went, but we ate at the Hard Rock cafe in that little square with the human-sized chessboard. James has the palette of a toddler, so we had to appease him, and I was missing ranch and a good burger, so we sat out on the patio and watched the people walk by on the path that snakes its self through the square. If you were sitting at our table and looking at that path and went left, it would take you to Vondel Park. It’s like the Central Park of Amsterdam. We went there too where we rolled another joint and rode around the park on our bikes, doing skid outs with our kick-back back breaks on the dirt paths.

It was dark out by the time we decided to check out the Red Light district. We parked our bikes at some square, which on the map looked not far from where we needed to be. We walked round and round until we stopped in this dark little backroad so we could look at the map and smoke a cigarette. It was at this loading dock thing with a blue fence. That’s when this super shad-looking dude walked up to us. First he asked us for some money. Then the greedy mother fucker wanted for a cigarette too. We obliged and then asked if maybe he could help us out too. When we asked if he knew how to get to the red light district, his eyes lit up, like we had just walked into one of his traps, and he tried to send us down this shady-looking Alley which he said would take us right to it. Maybe we were just being paranoid, but there was no way were gonna follow his directions. It looked like the kind of street on which you might get robbed, shanked, or maybe both. So we didn’t take his directions, which in reality were right, regardless of its safety. Every time I’m in Amsterdam and I walk by that spot where all that went down, I take a picture of it and send it to the guys.

Back to the story though, we end up finding the Red Light District. And to be honest, not in a good way or a bad way, but that thing is not how I imagined it. In reality it is one long block separated by another canal. Sure there’s little off shoots, but the gist of it is on this short street that lasts for maybe 1/3 of a mile or so. It’s a very lively street though. Of course there are bars, plenty- most of them seem pretty normal and I’ve had some good nights in a few of them. You’ve got your coffee shops, a few hotels which you’d have to give me a hazmat suit and pay me to stay in, another Bulldog, and few hostels, which in my opinion, are also quite questionable. But then it gets a little seedy and I’m not talking about the strip joints. I’m talking about the kind of place where you can watch live sex shows. The dudes in front of these places always look a little scummy and have no shame in what they say about the product they’re selling. And then of course, how it got it’s name, you have the windows, which are lit up in red lights. Usually they’re never at eye-level, because of the way the houses are built. The houses remind me of little Brooklyn brownstone houses where the windows are up the stairs, on both sides of the front door. That’s where the girls stand- out on display yet out of touch. And just like at a shopping center there is an option for every taste. I’m talking every taste. It doesn’t matter what color or size. From Princess Leia to Jabba the hut, they’ve got you covered.

Well after we had taken a couple of laps up and down each side we came back to these two girls, who were side by side and shared a house. These girls were so fine, they could’ve been displayed in the pages of Vogue rather than in Amsterdam window. Maybe Victoria’s Secret is more fitting though, because they had on this skimpy lingerie.

So the three of us stopped in front of their window again. And again they were beckoning us up. Then, from behind the glass, one of them opened their swinging window and told us to come on up so she could talk. None of us ever had the actual intention of doing anything— between the three of us we had maybe seen five whole boobs— but we were being little fuck faces and wanted to fool around and see how the deal would go down. So theatrically, so they could definitely see us, we pulled our money from our pockets so that they could see, and Yani decided he would be the one to go up and talk.

James and I watched as the girl left her window and walked to the front door where she met Yanni at the top of the stairs. From down there James and I were giggling, and so was the girl but in a flirty kinda way. And then, I can’t see my friends face because his back was to us, but I could see the girl’s and it was starting to change to something not so friendly. It turns out he had a total of maybe 35 bucks and 10 of them were in Swiss Francs, which definitely weren’t the currency of the Netherlands. I didn’t hear it in person, but Yani told me that she told him “that he couldn’t even go around the corner and get a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk with so little money.” I don’t remember what he said in response, but whatever it was, it was enough to piss her off. That I could see from all the way down there. Things were starting to get agitated.

So I run up the stairs to help him, and right as I get there, she grabs him by the arm and tries to pull him into the house. As she’s calling for her bouncer, or pimp, or whatever it’s called, she has him almost all the way in. And Just as she starts to close the door behind them I jam my foot in door and grab his arm. While she’s pulling one way and I’m pulling the other, I hear the footsteps of a sumo wrestler busting his way down the stairs. And right as I pull him from her grip, she pulls back and decks him right in the eye. We don’t wait for whatever comes next and the three of us run down the street and turn down another little ally where we laughed our heads off.

Although we were being ignorant little asshole american teenager tourists, I think that was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.

And one of the most random things was the next morning when we ended up back at the pancake place next to the Bulldog, the girl in the window next to Mike Tyson’s was our waitress, or so Jani swears.

Posted on May 5, 2018 by matty — Leave a comment

Good and Plenty (What’d you get for Valentine’s Day?)

Tomorrow is the deadline for applying to SDSU, and like always, I put this off until the last minute. You would think that being in the 21st century, this kind of thing would be done on the computer and through the internet, but no. That’s why I had to overnight it to the administrations office. Normally I would’ve skated to the post office— it’s not very far— but I have a bum ankle, so I had to take an Uber instead. While I was in the shopping center I went down to CVS to buy some supplies for the new job I was starting that night. I’m happy I put these errands off until last minute, because if I didn’t, I would have never met Margaret on aisle 12.

I’ve been to this store quite a few times so I go straight to the aisle with the pens and notebooks and those type of things. Right in front of where I need to grab my stuff, there is this older lady with a weathered face. She could have been 55, she could’ve been 70, who knows? She also looked kinda weird like a cat lady who might’ve hoarded hamsters instead of cats. Her salt and pepper hair was messy and done up in side pony tiles, like a freshman cheerleader, strips go glittery tinsel and all. She was looking at big pink binder and talking to herself when she dropped something from her hand. It was a small box of Good and Plenty (those pink and white licorice candies). I go to pick them up for her, and as I hand her the little candy box, she says, as if we were life long friends, “So do you like Good and Plenty’s?”

“To be honest,” I said, “I don’t think I’ve had Good and Plenty’s in over 15 years.”

“They’re the best,” she explained. “And right now they’re on sale. Three for one. You should get some.”

“Maybe I will,” I told her.

That’s when she hands me the pink binder she was looking at and asks. “Can you find a price on this thing anywhere?”

I take a look and say no.

“My eyes aren’t real good. Do you see this black eye?” she asked.

It looked ok to me, but I wasn’t going to say no, so I say. “Yeah it looks a little bruised.”

“I got shot in the eye not too long ago. In order to fix it, the doctor had to a camera through my mouth and up into my eye.”

“Wow. That’s pretty crazy,” I told her, not totally buying her story but liking her nonetheless, and we shared a couple more pleasantries before I grabbed what I needed. While I’m waiting for the cash register who isn’t in sight, the lady from just then walks up behind me and puts her Good and Plenty’s on the conveyer belt. When the cashier shows up, she starts to ring up my stuff and asks, “So do you wait tables?”

“I do,” I said. “It’s my first night. At this place called Starving Artist.”

The lady behind me chimes in. “You don’t say,” she says, “Starving Artist, you said? Well then, I know where I’m having dinner tonight.”

It’s Valentine’s day mind you, which was like the cherry on top to make this all a little weirder.

“What’s your name, honey?” she asks.

“Matt,” I say.

“Well, Matt. I guess I’ll see you tonight. I hope you don’t mind widows,” she says then looks over at the cashier like they might have been long time friends too. “She’s a widow too.”

I ask her her name and she tells me it’s Margaret.

“Well, it was very nice to met you Margaret,” I tell her.

And right before I take my stuff and say goodbye to the ladies, Margaret stops me and says, “Hey. It looks like you never got your Good and Plenty’s.” She turns to the cashier and says, “Is it ok if I give him one of these now and you could put it on my bill?”

She said sure and Margaret hands me a little box of Good and Plenty’s. “Happy Valentines day, Sweetie,” she says. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Well I waited all night for Margaret. I even told my coworkers about her and that crazy occurrence. Unfortunately she never came in, although I kinda hoped she did, but there on my counter is still my little box of Good and Plenty’s that are a better keep sake than a treat.