Category: Five Things Right Now.

I’ll kick off this installment with this quote from The Monkey Wrench Gang: “Seldom Seen Smith was in the river-running business. The back-country business. He was a professional guide, wilderness outfitter, boatman and packer. His capital equipment consisted basically of such items as rubber boats, kayaks, life jackets, mountain tents, outboard motors, pack saddles, topographic maps, waterproof duffel bags, signal mirrors, climbing ropes, snakebite kits, 150-proof rum, fly rods and sleeping bags. And a pickup and a 2½-ton truck, each with this legend on magnetic decals affixed to the doors: BACK OF BEYOND EXPEDITIONS, Jos. Smith, Prop., Hite, Utah.”

1. Back of Beyond Books, Moab UT.

You don’t know this, but I’m on 7-day road trip, driving “The Mighty Five“. So yea…this week’s installment will be all about that. Road tripin’ The Mighty Five. While in Moab, I stumbled across Back of Beyond, and it’s terrific. The new book selection is strong, but the real draw? If you’re an Ed Abbey geek, here ya go: their “Ed Abbey case,” holds pretty much every one of his titles in first edition—many signed or inscribed. Jonathan Troy? Check. The Brave Cowboy? Check. Shit, I’ve never held a first of Brave Cowboy, and I’ve only seen Jonathon Troy one other time. Plus all his later works still in print, including the Crumb-illustrated Monkey Wrench Gang and the University of Arizona Press edition of Desert Solitaire. Head to the back of the store and you’ll find a great section of rare books. A complete run of Jon Webb’s Outsider magazine, four of the five issues in jacket, and by far the nicest copy I’ve ever seen of Gypsy Lou’s Flowers Picked at Geronimo’s Grave, which, I’m certain, is still under her spell. And if that’s not enough, check out Ed Abbey’s writing desk on display—complete with a faux Abbey manuscript, like he just stepped out to make a quick run for a cold bottle of Schlitz.

2. Torrey, Utah

Torrey, Utah, was settled in the 1880s by Mormon pioneers. Today it’s best known as the gateway town to Capitol Reef National Park, and most of the town’s population are descended from said Mormon pioneers. So, after a terrific breakfast at the Wild Rabbit Café, we drove around their tiny town. Torrey’s population is maybe 120 (hear hear, Jim Thompson!), so you don’t expect much beyond the terrific, old schoolhouse, now a bed & breakfast. But in that parking lot I spotted a brand-new car up on concrete blocks, all four tires gone. I laughed and asked the couple standing nearby the other parked cars if the tires had been stolen—”because that’s the kind of thing that only happens in Big Bad Blue Cities, not here in Safe-and-Red Small Town, USA.” The woman glared at me and walked away. Yup. It’s their car. Yup, I felt like a giant ass. I apologized profusely to the man, who was good-natured enough about it. He told me the only dealership that could help was in Salt Lake, some 200 miles away. Seven to ten business days for new tires to get delivered to Torrey. My guess? The missing set didn’t make it far out of Torrey. Maybe someone over at that giant polygamist compound right down the street might know a little sumptin’-sumtin?

3. UT-12: Escalante to Boulder

The stretch of Highway 12 from Escalante to Boulder beats Highway 1 from Pacifica to Henry Miller’s cabin—at least when it comes to The Most Harrowing Highway Drives in America. It culminates in what’s called “The Hog’s Back”, a narrow ridge with serious, stomach-turning drop-offs on both sides—the kind that made my palms sweat as I maintained my focus on the solid yellow line. I’m talking like 1,000 foot drops. Did I mention on both sides? Or there’s no guardrails? Stomach-tingling vertigo. Your car on a tightrope. Rolling into the tiny town of Boulder, relief comes at what appears to be a Sinclair gas station. It’s really Hills & Hollow Mini Mart, so go ahead and grab that jar of locally canned pickled beets and a can of fancy oat-milk cold brew to go with that loaf of still-warm, locally-baked bread. Did your analogue camera run out of film? Yup.

Thing 4: The Monkey Wrench Gang
The Monkey Wrench Gang has been on my To-Read list for a long, long time. I dunno why I haven’t gotten around to it until now. I have a faint childhood memory of my mom going to an Ed Abbey reading (maybe ’78?). Also during that time, I’d ride dirt bikes on what was then the edge of suburban Phoenix and I’d see new-home billboards either smashed, burned to the ground or tagged into oblivion, always with SOD — Save Our Desert — sprayed across them in black paint. SOD has stuck ever since. So on my way out of Moab, I grabbed a copy: the paperback “exclusive 50th Anniversary edition from Back of Beyond Books”, along with the new, 2025 clothbound Dream Garden Press edition illustrated by R. Crumb. One I’ve already started to read, the other will sit on my shelf back home and barely molested.

Thing 5: Carl’s Critter Garden
In Hanksville, Utah (population just over 100 depending on the time of year), I stumbled across a folk-art, sculpture garden masterpiece called Carl’s Critter Garden. You can find more online, but I got the real story straight from Dave, who’s been The Critter Garden Guardian for about eight years now. The place is equal parts surreal and twisted, rusted-out metal, not far from the canyons where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid once hid out. My favorite piece? The resident giant space alien who greets you with an important announcement for “the People of Planet Earth”. The message is Everything Empathy—something that feels needed more now than it has in a long, long time.

Hey hey oh hai everyone! I’ll kick off this batch of Five Things, Right Now with a line from T.S. Eliot: “If you’re not in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” Which is just my fancy-pants, literary way of saying I have no idea when I’ll actually have five new, fun things to talk about. And probably not every Friday.

1. The Vandercook SP-15 Proof Press

Meet the new engine of the synaesthesia press! After years working on my Vandercook OS 219, I’ve made the move to the legendary SP-15 — a proof press compact enough to actually fit into my new garage-studio; but, like all “Vandys”, it’s built like a tank. Vandercook introduced the SP (“Simple Precision”) line in the 1960s, and the SP-15 quickly became one of the most popular presses they ever made. Printers love it because it strikes the perfect balance: a generous 14¾” × 20″ form area, precision engineering, and user-friendly controls. This press feels like the right size for where I am now — still capable of my artist’s books, broadsides, and oddball ephemera I love to make, but no longer overwhelming the space…and about 2000 pounds lighter than my OS 219. Give or take.  In short: it’s the perfect new anchor for the synaesthesia press. Expect to see new work rolling off this cylinder soon. I might even take a few jobs! Got a broadside idea you’d like me to print?

2. Tina Brooks – True Blue

Of course you know John Coletrane. You probably know Sonny Rollins. Maybe Cannonball? How about Tina Brooks? For me, he’s a haunting figure in jazz — a tenor saxophonist who had the sound, the ideas, the compositional talent, but never an audience. Which is one of the reasons I love him so. In 1960 he recorded True Blue for Blue Note, the only album released under his own name while he was alive. I’ve been streaming it for a couple years now. It’s a remarkable session: lyrical, inventive, full of personality, and yet it sank almost without a ripple at the time. Did I mention Brooks never found the audience he deserved? Or that I love The Creative Underdog?  Brooks’s life was cut painfully short. He struggled with heroin addiction, recorded sporadically, and by 1974, at age 42, he passed. Most of his music remained in the vaults until decades later, when (first) the Japanese collectors and (second) the reissue folks figured him out. True Blue is the work of an artist whose brilliance is evident, but who lived and died largely unseen.

3. Gorilla Biscuits at The Van Buren 6 Sept. ’25

They opened for The Circle Jerks. But I was there to see Gorilla Biscuits. Back in their first run (1991-ish?), I’ll be the first to admit I poo-poo’ed them. I poo-poo’ed the whole “straight edge” thing. It felt almost like an oxymoron to me, and I never gave any of those bands a chance. But I have no problem admitting when I’m wrong. Decades later? These guys shred. Their energy was off the charts, the songs tight and fast, and what’s better than people watching at a punk show? It’s a reminder that some music ages better than our own prejudices. And hasn’t punk aged well?! That’s probably one of the five things I should be writing about today.

4. It All Dies Anyway: L.A., Jabberjaw, and the End of an Era

On a recent trip to Half-Priced Books, I came across It All Dies Anyway: L.A., Jabberjaw, and the End of an Era. Essentially, it’s a love letter to a tiny, all-ages coffeehouse; but it’s known better as an underground music venue in L.A.’s “Mid-City” on Pico Boulevard. I wasn’t living in L.A. during its run, but I knew about Jabberjaw through Coop’s amazing, unforgettable show posters that made it into my local record store in Tempe, AZ, during the mid-90’s (and now go for a tidy sum). I love this book. And even though I never set foot inside Jabberjaw, this book makes me feel like I didn’t miss much… other than all the incredible bands that played there.

5. Jack Woody.

I’ve never met Jack Woody, but I feel like I know him in the same way I “know” Jabberjaw—through what was created. Woody founded Twelvetrees Press in the early ’80s as a nonprofit, so he could secure NEA money—back when that was still possible—and used it to publish the beginning of what would be daring, beautifully-made photo books. A few years later he launched Twin Palms as a for-profit house, and for a brief stretch between 1989 and 1992 the two overlapped. Everything Woody publishes amazes me: thick papers, deep inks, design so sharp it forces you to slow down as you turn each page. The list of photogs he’s published is staggering—from Mapplethorpe to Winogrand to Ginsberg to Herb Ritts to Eggleston and Disfarmer—and the books feel almost like Christmas Morning. Or Easter Brunch. Or a Diwali Festival. You get the idea.

I’ll end this with a humble flex: the Twin Palms summer sale just wrapped, and I managed to land a lettered copy of William Eggleston: For Now. There were a few signed copies still available(!) (which is what I ordered), but a lettered copy ended up in my library! I want to believe — somehow and some way — that Jack sent it to me himself. ‘Cause he feels my love for everything he makes…all the way from Arizona.

1. A Major Flex (Sorry, Not Sorry!)
I’m going to kick off this week’s 5 Things Right Now with a flex. A major flex. Thing is, no one likes a braggart…but that’s what I’m about to do. Because a few weeks ago, I sent a handful of 4 Minute Mile to people I consider heroes, and one of them was R. Crumb. Yesterday, I opened my mailbox to find The Kinda Girl I Like!—marked “one of two copies.” Inside, a long handwritten letter where he riffs (in classic Crumb fashion) on the women in my zine, his own preferences, and even a memory about our mutual friend, the photographer Eric Kroll. Crumb really has been a hero to me, and to receive anything directly from him—sparked by something I made—is about as surreal as it gets. Seriously, I ain’t braggin’; it’s about sharing a rare moment where the creative energy you throw into the world actually bounces back in the most unexpected, humbling…and inspiring way. Which I really needed, cause I’ve sold like 6 copies of Four Minute Mile, almost all to friends.

2. Stanley Turrentine & The Three Sounds’ Blue Hour.
This week, I’ve had Blue Hour on replay. Re-stream? Whether I’m reading, working, or about to fall asleep. If someone could create the perfect soundtrack to the Beat Generation, this is it. Ever hear something and wonder, why did it take me so long to discover this?! Turrentine and his three sounds — pianist Gene Harris, bassist Andrew Simpkins, and drummer Bill Dowdy — in a beautifully subdued session. If you’re a Blue Note nerd like me, it’s BLP 4057. It’s been reissued in their Classic Vinyl Series, remastered from the original tapes and pressed into that thick, glorious 180g vinyl—it’s sonic heaven for late-night spinning, Daddy-O. Or late night streaming. It’s so good, I’m ordering the record. Cause I’m buying records again. Albums. LP’s. EP’s. 45’s. Just whatever you do, please don’t call them “vinyls”.

3. Alien Earth (Hulu)
I’ve really been digging into Alien Earth. It’s basically the Alien franchise stirred up with some brand-new, gross, squirm-inducing-and-awesome little critters (the Octopus Eyeball is my current favorite—equal parts ridiculous and terrifying). The story is Philip K. Dick crash-landing into an H.R. Giger nightmare. Which isn’t that far off, cause there’s a terrific crash landing that kicked this season off. And there’s Sydney Chandler, too. She’s just terrific, carrying so much of the show’s strange humanity while dodging (and sometimes embracing) its nightmare. How about a little more Sydney from here on out? I don’t care if she’s a nepo baby; truth is, without Marcy / Wendy, I’m not sure I’d still be watching.

4. Wet Leg at the Tiny Desk
Everyone should know NPR’s Tiny Desk series by now — it’s practically a rite of passage for any band with buzz. What you might have missed is Wet Leg’s recent performance promoting their new record, Moisturizer. I’ve loved Wet Leg since first hearing the greatest song ever written about a chaise longue: they’ve got guitars, hooks, and a perfect mix of cheeky and dead-serious. But I’ve always been a sucker for fem-powered pop melodies built on loud guitars. Watching them cram their energy into a cozy NPR office just makes it better — that spirit in long hair and beards and a Holden-Caulfied hat, shoulder pads built for hockey players, a red phone and library chairs.

5. Steve Diet Goedde’s Little Edition Print Subscriptions
Every month a small brown envelope lands in my PO Box with a little magic inside. This month it’s Print SDG062—a superb image of burlesque model Lucy Fur. Goedde’s thing is elegant, low-key fetish in luminous black-and-white; he shoots only with available light, and the tonality is why these tiny prints feel so big. If you don’t know the subscription, it’s the best 10 bucks you’ll spend—all mailed in his brown craft envelopes I’ve come to look forward to. It’s intimate, affordable, and old-school in the very best way.  If you don’t know Mr. Diet Goedde: a long-time LA fine-art erotic photographer (Beauty of Fetish, Extempore), with a style that reads as much fashion as fetish—precise, composed, and human. If you’re curious, his shop and books are an easy rabbit hole.

Camera note for the nerds: he regularly mentions the Mamiya 645 and T-Max 400 in posts/interviews — the recipe for his (now) not-so-secret sauce.

1. The Rentals — “Shake Your Diamonds” + “Forgotten Astronaut”

I’ve been streaming “Shake Your Diamonds” and “Forgotten Astronaut” off Q36, The Rentals’ last record, way too much lately. What started as a 48-hour obsession with Weezer’s first two albums a few weeks ago landed me here, mostly because of Matt Sharp’s charisma back when he was their bassist. But does anyone care about The Rentals since “Friends of P.”? I have no idea. These two tracks are strange, spacey, and glammy — the kind of songs that sound like they’re straight outta ’74. Which is exactly why I love them. But hey, I’m no music critic. Here’s a serious question: should “Shake Your Diamonds” and “Forgotten Astronaut” count as two things on this list?

2. Peggy Guggenheim — Out of This Century: Confessions of an Art Addict

I’ve been flipping through Peggy Guggenheim’s memoir again, and wow — nobody name-drops like Peggy. And I mean flipping, because this book is half gossip column, half crash course in modern art history. One page she’s lamenting her lovers, the next she’s buying a Pollock or shrugging at Duchamp or telling me all about Djuna Barnes’s lesbian loves. (Duchamp! Did you know everyone in 1923 Paris wanted to bang him?!?) This is the kind of stuff I love. Even skimming it feels unfiltered, messy, vain, brilliant — and pretty funny, too. Which is to say it’s worth a skim and not much more.

3. The Golden Age of Hollywood and Florence Lawrence!

I’ve fallen down the early-Hollywood rabbit hole more than once. It started with a pile of old de-commissioned stills I dug out of a junk shop across the way from MacArthur Park near DTLA. Lately it’s continued with Netflix’s Titans: The Rise of Hollywood. As documentaries go, it’s a little cheesy… but watchable. And Florence Lawrence! Who knew? She was the first movie star — and yeah, her name also sounds like it could’ve been her porn star alias, too. Just sayin’.

4. The Black Sparrow Press, Post–John Martin

I’ve been thinking a lot about Black Sparrow Press since John Martin passed, and honestly — Joshua Bodwell has done a terrific job carrying the torch. I’m in the middle of the Dan Fante’s terrific short story collection Short Dog: Cab Driver Stories from the L.A. Streets, and the New Year’s greetings — Wanda Coleman (2020) and Richard Bucker (2021) — fit perfectly in step with tradition. They’re beautifully produced, respectful of the past but not afraid to move forward. For a press so tied to the Bukowski / Fante lore, it’s impressive to see BSP still evolving. Bodwell is finding new voices while honoring the ones that made BSP matter in the first place. Bravo sir!

5. Austin Kleon  Steals Like an Artist.

Austin Kleon is a true champion for creatives — whether you’ve got a massive audience or you’re just scribbling in your secret notebook. His books (Steal Like an Artist, Show Your Work, Keep Going) are part pep talk, part how-to, and somehow just as useful the tenth time through as the first. All three have a place in my studio. Every week he posts “10 things worth sharing this week” on his site: art, music, literature, rabbit holes; hence, Five Things, Right Now. Cause I’m a thief. And as Austin reminds us (and Picasso before him), great artists steal. You can pretty much count on Kleon dropping his list every Friday. But me? What’ll be here next Friday?

Your guess is as good as mine.