Things are going smoothly at the shoot, beneath four gigantic doug fir trees, a couple blocks east of 82nd avenue. Welsh has a beautiful, modern ranch home with an amazing studio/garage disconnected from the house. Behind those big door is a about six people conducting a photo shoot. Pretty cool to think about it, and how we plug into the world once these images leave this little space. Awesome.

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Tons of squadron patches, sent over by Chris Soli.

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The dual 30’s are nice, but, get a load of these fuckers. (Sent in by MediaKnievel.)

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Flying back to Michigan in a week to hang out with a lady, see some parents, and take a breather. So good.

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Got a bad haircut from old time barber a couple blocks away. Fuck. I don’t know why I put myself through this, over and over. I’m just so enchanted by the idea and beauty of going into an real, authentic barber shop, and forget that the old bastard there doesn’t give a shit “how you want it cut” and is going to go into default mode and make you look like some chump for the next three weeks. Argh. But, it was still great to get the hot shave, the weird shoulder massage and some green turpentine-smelling aftershave stuff splashed on for good measure. I walked outta there smelling like a big can of aquanet, or something.

Speaking of smelling like blue or green tonic, here’s a bunch of old time barber stuff to check out. Some call it, “Barberiana” but, to us, that sounds like a bad name for some weird dame.

We dig this, but fear the “haircut” or, “hairmassacre” that goes along with it.