Monday, November 15, 2010

This is why I do what I do.

When I first started painting it was simply because I wanted to see chicks naked. Since I was born with absolutely no game painting seemed like a viable option. I started riding the Latowski all those years ago because it was the cheapest means of transportation at the time...that's all.
Then after a brief stint trying to fit in with the normal grind with an equally normal job I hit the road. Just me and the bike painting pictures for beer money. It was a grand life for a while as I beat around the East coast just doin' my thing when I could and doing odd jobs in between. Having a normal job just sucked monkey cock because I could literally see the walls inside the box.
I had a blast and got hooked on every recreational drug and form of alcohol that I could get my hand on. You name it ,I did it and everything kind of fell apart.
I spent years homeless and wasted, riding around on a bike that wasn't worth the rust it was made out of and pukin' out paintings that sucked balls just so I could get that next bottle of Jack, a few pills, a tank of fuel and maybe a set of points if I was sober enough to give a fuck if I rode or not. A few years to a decade of this and I was shot. With a few suicide attempts on the bike later I realized that my existence on this planet was a waste of time.
One day I just started to take life seriously and pick up what I was able to do and make it work. I left Florida where I was living in the gutter (so to speak) and went back to Jersey to 'kick". I made it to Jersey , locked myself in a boarding house and detoxed.
Going through DT's and operating a sweeper truck seven days a week at night I got a lot of thinking done between the shakes and every other malignity that can be associated with a sudden end to the ingestion of toxins. There I sat, shakin' like a poodle passin' a pine cone and sweeping parking lots.
I couldn't do the nine-five and I knew it. There had to be something I began painting again, where ever I could.
I realized that painting was my savior and my bike was the most precious thing in my life, so I focused on them hoping they would save me.
In the basement of Blacksmith Cycles in Sussex New jersey I really put an effort forth to make something of my fucked life. I painted in a dark and dismal basement fighting depression and the need to regress into my old life...but I kept on painting and with the help of Nick the owner of Blacksmith my bike began to come back to life.
I landed a gig with THE HORSE painting pictures under the old management before Hammer took the helm and steered the ship right. I must have painted 6 or 7 paintings and my bike was on the rode again before the pieces started fitting together.
One day I got pissed off and had those humps at O.C.C. sign a rotten bologna and wrote an article...I was then hired as a staff writer and have been ever since. Now I was a writer too, and I had no idea what I was doing...and still don't. All I knew was that I loved my bike and painting had become much more then a way to see some nice ass. It is what keeps me afloat.
As the steam on this stupid assed "GTP" thing propelled it at a near snails pace I felt like I was accomplishing something and maybe there was a chance I could actually join society and I did....and I hated it.
The bike was in full bloom and people where actually buying my stuff (paintings) and I was writing about shit that blue collar bikers could relate to. Things were good and I again took off on my two wheeled misery machine...but I would always find a place to paint.
The writing was steady, the riding was non-stop and the paintings were increasing in value which meant I had to take it a little more seriously. I began dealing with a lot of people on the painting end that would NEVER understand what I was actually doing with the rest of my life.Those painting you will never see instead I showed the viewing audience the paintings that reflected what I am about...mostly.
I found myself in Tempe Arizona playing the game for all to see. Steppin' on a few toes but thinkin' this is what had to be done to move forward. I was riding a lot and writing about it. I was painting pictures nonstop. I destroyed my back and got an apartment and an over priced studio and had to paint any picture that came across the internet just to pay for it all until I did the "Fuck You" painting and then it made sense.
I was painting just to cover rent and utilities. The love for it was fading and when the Kelvinator was done I hit the road again. While on the road I realized that I had too much shit holding me down so on my return to Tempe, I packed up my shit and moved as far away a reasonable without leaving my beloved Arizona.
I nabbed a cheap studio in town and parked my $600 travel trailer in Porns backyard and went at it again.
It was a rough start but I am happy with everything now. Just me and a couple of bikes and a one eyed dog named Dead Eyed Bud. I just trimmed the fat so I could get my love of painting and bikes back again.
Living is hard down here but the pressure is off. I have the Latowski back on the road again but I only use it for rides of limited distance so my back doesn't go south. The Kelvinator is my long distance ride....but it ain't the same, not by a long shot.
Livin' is a lot harder and there ain't a chance in hell I will be impressing some little hotty to take here close off because of my financial success but I FEEL successful. I have systematically made my life cheaper so I can ride when I want to ride and paint what I want to paint. To me that is on the brink of freedom.
I have plans to be completely off the grid and able to paint pictures for blue collar guys like yourself. I will end up self sufficient living just outside of town on a hill with my studio, bikes and that one eyed fucked up dog. Give me a year.
My goal is to just live my life, ride my bike, write for the HORSE and paint what I fuckin' want to paint...but I need ammo and solar panels so I am playing the game again...but I'm dropping the prices on the paintings and charcoals so guys like us can afford them.
I'm building a haven where bikers can be bikers without the worry of what people think of them or how those bikers want to be perceived. A place to ride to, throw up a tent and let it all hang out...and then leave. A place where you respect my compound but are encouraged to have the best time ever, but I need to paint pictures for YOU to be able to do it.
I ain't asking for ANY kind of a handout. All I am asking is that you contact me and see if we can work something out so I can live on that hill, completely of the grid and you can have a painting on your wall.
Leave comments or get a hold of me at This is going to work...have a nice fuckin' day! "GTP"


  1. The pictures are all fucked up but then again so is the internet so it's appropriate!

  2. Sounds like a plan to me.Maybe someday I will get you to do a painting for me, til then keep writing. I like your stories. Be safe out there.

  3. GTP I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again. “You are my hero!!” I’m stuck in the 9 to 5 thing with no way out at the moment. Someday though I’m riding from TN to AZ and don’t know if I could afford a GTP painting but by God I’m going to shake the hand of GTP!

  4. Burning innocent little SNEAKERS are ya?

    Well i suppose that if someone's gonna do it, who would be a more APROPO person (age) than your own bad self - HUH?

    I said . . . . "HUH"?

    Ha ha ha ha yeah well one of these days and i don't know when. One of these days.

    Or is it, "one of those days"? Who can tell?

    Best happiness to you Mr. GTP . . . . .

  5. we'll hang someday, george. i'm looking forward to it.

  6. Good on ya George. Sounds like a plan. Wish I could help, but as you know everyone is counting their Pennies... stop by the tent next year at the Smokeout. maybe things will be better by then.

  7. "I can ride when I want to ride, and paint what I want to paint. To me, that is the brink of freedom" Fuck yeah George!

  8. Thanks for being so real. I like your stories, paintings, and perceived freedom. Keep doing what you do. Life is a hassle but what is worthwhile, isn't.