Friday, September 3, 2010
Friday, January 30, 2009
I wonder who I'm supposed to meet. We're all wearing full face helmets and padded gear up there, I can't tell who anyone is. It's not like surfing where you can see everyone's face and their tan line too. Mmmm . . . tan lines.
Practice was delightful. Hmm, first time in my life I might have said that, regarding any practice for any sport. I texted my old boyfriend to tell him I was back in the VIP tent making dozens of sandwiches and stuffing my pockets, like we did in the Athlete's Tent at the X Games. Ahh, to be so poor and so athletic. Ah well.
Back on course early tomorrow morning. One more day of practice, visualization, and well, high speeds baby.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Coarse inspection and practice starts tomorrow for the Grand Prix at Boreal.
Oh, and that's my room above. I love that there are snowboards around every turn in our house. We're people full of passion.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Let us visualize the secure man; and by this term, I mean a man who has settled for financial and personal security for his goal in life. In general, he is a man who has pushed ambition and initiative aside and settled down, so to speak, in a boring, but safe and comfortable rut for the rest of his life. His future is but an extension of his present, and he accepts it as such with a complacent shrug of his shoulders. His ideas and ideals are those of society in general and he is accepted as a respectable, but average and prosaic man. But is he a man? Has he any self-respect or pride in himself? How could he, when he has risked nothing and gained nothing? What does he think when he sees his youthful dreams of adventure, accomplishment, travel and romance buried under the cloak of conformity? How does he feel when he realizes that he has barely tasted the meal of life; when he sees the prison he has made for himself in pursuit of the almightydollar? If he thinks this is all well and good, fine, but think of the tradgedy of a man who has sacrificed his freedom on the altar of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of time. A man is to be pitied who lacked the courage to accept the challenge of freedom and depart from the cushion of security and see life as it is instead of living it second-hand. Life has by-passed this man and he has watched from a secure place, afraid to seek anything better. What has he done except to sit and wait for the tomorrow which never comes?
Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed. Where would the world be if all men had sought security and not taken risks or gambled with their lives on the chance that, if they won, life would be different and richer? It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must be laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait for death. . . .
They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.. . .
who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?
THE SPECTATOR"SECURITY"BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON, 1955
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Another sunset behind Paul's house. It's crazy, they happen, like, every day.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
SURFER's Opinion Poll
After multiple amateur world titles, a very strong showing in Hawaii, plus several cage-rattling appearances on the World Tour as a wildcard, it’s now rumored that Jordy Smith is poised to sign one of the largest contracts ever offered to a rookie in the history of professional surfing. If the conjecture surrounding the deal is correct, it’s possible that soon, Jordy could be one of the highest-paid surfers in the world—besides, of course, Kelly Slater.)
All good, I suppose. I had one girl in hysterics as I poked fun at Ian and his workout girliness for having this stationary bike upstairs in the bathroom. He was such a sarcastic mo fo, it was good to communicate with another of my kind.
Then last night we ran into Fred Patacchia
and we got into a conversation about Budweiser, mostly because he and another pro-guy were on their way to the Budweiser party at Turtle Bay. Here he is surfing.
I said, "Have you tried Budlight Lime? It's disgusting. It tastes like soap."
Fred replied, "What kind of soap? Like Dove, or Dawn?"
After consideration I replied, "Like Dawn. Lemon Dawn."
"At least you can do the dishes and get drunk at the same time," he said.
We agreed that it's best never to do anything sober, or with lime, involving Bud. He had a strange look on his face though.
As Janna and I were driving away, she said, "You know, that guy is a pro and he's sponsored by Budweiser."
This racks up a solid handful of pros I've keenly been unaware of and made fun of to their face, either about their sponsor, or their clothing, whatever. I told Janna to have me shut my mouth in the next circumstance like this we might face, but she thanked me instead for shaving down the egos of these promiscuous pros who dog girls and get to surf empty breaks around the world, leading their tough pedestal lives (as she summed up), even if I just get the chance for a moment.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Anyway, I have it in my heart that at the end of these three weeks I will have improved my surf capabilities. I can't get any worse, since I've been pummeled and caught on the lips of waves and my arms are exhausted. I'm trying to work up the energy to head over to Hale'iwa, about 10 miles west of here to join Paul's girl Janna in a yoga class. Sitting here on this laptop is just so easy though. Perhaps I can take a stretch by myself a little later. I'm good at weaseling out of things I know I need to do for my body.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
I don't know why I keep swallowing so much water. I've been pounded on the head by sets before and lost in the washing machine of waves, but this time around I seem to get caught with my mouth open. Salt water in the belly is upsetting. Mixed with coffee and chocolate - breakfast of champions.
Looking out at the waves again today and the people staring at the waves, and every morning so far it's nice because it feels like we're in this together. There goes another cat riding his bike through the grass in the yard in front of me to stare a the ocean. He must be 50.
I suppose my generation will be the first to support the old women in the water. I haven't seen any over 40, ever. If I have to move here and practice for the next 7 years so I can be in the water at 40 and not get pounded, well, then, I do what I have to do to keep pushing the female sex to the next level.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
You see, I used to be a really good writer, or so Paul thinks. I wrote him 9 page letters from Africa and emails years ago that he told me changed his writing. That's not so hard when he used to write me letters that were much like Jack Handy's, from SNL. Yeah. I'm still out of practice, but he really believes in my once polished craft, so I'll humor him and write again, just for the sake of writing.
I'm sitting here at his desk looking out at the waves. This is what it looks like:
In the morning, people line up at the back of their houses and stare out at the ocean, like we're all at some giant surf camp, and the day is beginning again. To the left and right they saunter down their yards to the beach with board in hand, and go out and slide the ocean all day. There's no work up here, though there is a Starbucks. That, Foodland, and a place called Ted's which serves MahiMahi sandwiches which gave me the most incredible gas while in the water yesterday, are the only establishments within a few miles. Of course, I wouldn't be outraged if there was a Starbucks in the Sarhara by now. They're everywhere and oh so yummy. So my fellow campers and I surf. They surf all day every day. At this time I'm mostly paddling around and trying not to get knocked up by the ocean. In three weeks time I pray that I can report my skills will be much better.
I'm off to go stare at the ocean with my cohorts now. Blog One Day Two Out my brothers and sisters.