Journal from a Lady of the Sea

Ocean Beach

2012-01-31T20:05:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: Mark Nelson

A Place I Miss...

2012-01-31T19:51:00.000-08:00

...even if I wasn't born when this photograph was taken....and will someone please wear shorts like that?

Sketch Holliday and Me

2012-01-25T21:19:00.000-08:00

Walking through the vibrancy of life only found on Wednesday nights in Ocean Beach, I bask in the culture of the night air. Farmers markets have such a magic to them and this one is even more surreal than any other, especially after what happened tonight. My friend Amy and I, searching for good eats, stop by at the art table of a friendly bearded man. I discovered the work Harry Daily a few years back and fell in love. When I learned he lived here in OB, (by stumbling on to this table a few months ago) I was thrilled. That first time we met (read my post Back with Saint Diego) he and his friends gave me some prints in exchange for my fanaticism. Today, I showed Amy the artist that painted the what now hangs on our walls. He showed us some new paintings and a poster he just did for the Growlers. We talked with him for a bit then wished him well and went on our way. Because of our indecisive eating habits, we passed by his table a second time. He came up to me with a print that had his phone number on it and said he would like to paint me. Not something you get asked everyday. I felt like a freshmen that just got asked to prom by the varsity quarterback. Of course I played it like the cool bird that I am and rambled only enough to be slightly embarrassed. We talked briefly then Amy and I left. I said, “see you soon,” and walked away with a new rolled print, a phone number and a giddy hop in my step.

The Avenues

2012-01-23T20:31:00.000-08:00

...work sometimes.

She Be Glide

2012-01-22T01:11:00.000-08:00

"The Pool Player
Seven at the Golden Shovel"

She be glide. She
Be slide. She
Be dance. She
Be swing. She
Be sly. She
Glide by.

Visual Thinking

2012-01-18T17:21:00.000-08:00

This cat has got it figured out.

Back with Saint James

2012-01-15T15:23:00.000-08:00

Back in San Diego. Good stuff.

Sunset Sunset

2012-01-12T18:11:00.000-08:00

A week of getting back into the rhythm of school and just finally got in to the groove of the water for a quick sunset session. Sometimes it feels so good to be a little damp and smell like salt.

Heading South for the Winter

2012-01-09T01:05:00.000-08:00

Dearest South Bay,

Hope this image congers up some good ol' sentimental feelings for ya as I am leaving you for Point Loma. Of course you will always know that you were my first love and San Diego just can't compare. It was nice to be back and you sure did show me a good time. It's been swell, but I must say adieu.

Hope to see you soon.

All my love, Mar

Shoddy Wetsuits and Spotty Tans

2012-01-09T00:30:00.000-08:00

You could say that my wetsuit lacks luster. You could also say it belongs in the trash bin. The high quality and unmatched style of avant-garde brand, Body Glove just can’t wrap its finger around my surfability and it starting to wear down a bit.

I don’t care to wear my seal suit as much as some do, but the dear old thing has given me the privilege of some long winter sessions. Thankfully, I live in a place where I rarely have to dust off the old 4:3 and can usually stick to my trusty 3:2, but if the weather dial were at my control, bareback would be in fashion all year long. The bare minimum is just fine for me.

Some "classic" minimalists would like to claim, “the leash ruined surfing,” which I would be a full supporter of if those kids were ballsy enough to also claim, “the wetsuit ruined surfing.” The wetsuit was just as much a contributor to the over popularity of surfing (or whatever you have a stick about), if not more so, than the leash. It’s like the body glove was the gateway drug to the lethal and highly addictive leash. To successfully get through the 12 step program to pure surfing, peeling of the black skin would be right behind going leashless. Let’s see the hipsters pull that one off.

But we modern folks do have a stifling disadvantage against the prewetsuit era considering fires on the beach are now prohibited. Even so, wetsuits seem to be a much easier (lazier) alternative to ten-minute sessions broken up by jaunts to the shore for a little time to defrost before running back out again. No wonder surfing was for the lowlife. Everyone must have thought they were insane, running back and fourth like that, freezing their neopreneless bums off.

Those brave billions today, sitting inside of their toasty, snug and hip designer suits, still must face the winter forces. Booties, gloves, leashes, hoods, electric heating suits and any other steel found at the Dive and Surf sidewalk sale, does just fine for all these 60 degree water South-Bayers.

I don’t particularly want to add every gadget to my neoprene costume, or look like those high-horse hipsters, and can't quite muster the strength to go bareback all year long, so I am stuck. I am stuck with a cheep wetsuit with no less than six holes, one of which being about five inches in diameter, centering itself presumptuously in the middle of my back. So now I have a lovely amoeba shaped winter tan: a battle wound of a little girl that is too proud and too poor to put on any other costume.

*Donations can be made in cash, check or neoprene.

Good New Year

2012-01-04T12:41:00.000-08:00

New years day, out at my favorite spot, I caught a wave with my buddy, Luke. As we were paddling back out I commented on the nice ride and he said, "You know what?," motioning toward the blimp overhead, "I think it's gonna be a good year."

Winter Holiday

2011-12-27T20:15:00.000-08:00

Who ever heard tell of a winter break that was so nice? Everyone here I guess. Back in the South Bay for the holiday and the hole in my wetsuit has been filled by a awkward tan spot on my back.

I was always bothered by the crowds that would trickle into the water for the break, alas irony has caught up with me and I am now the crowd. But never mind, it's nice to be home and I think that my brains are so full of salt water that any other plans I had are forgotten. Why go anywhere else? Sometimes I get such an eager craving to be where I am not, but for now I am just here. Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Lazy Day

2011-10-25T15:37:00.001-07:00

When it's warm out and there is nothing better to do, I can leave everything else knowing that this is what is better to do. The ocean will wash away any problem and the sun will dry it out. Kidding myself that I have the ability to read under the warmth of the sun with the sound of the water washing beside me, I fall asleep. Taking the walk back up to my apartment, I know from my salty eyebrows, brown skin and tired contentment, that this is where I am supposed to be.

It's a Foggy Day in Ocean Beach

2011-10-18T17:39:00.000-07:00

Photo credit: Mark Nelson

White and Tan

2011-10-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

Faded. All summer my body sears until a crisp orangibrown but eventually the sun comes out less and so do I. Confined to dark rooms, my skin becomes lighter, losing the seasonal exotic tone, the one time of the year where I can be ambiguously diverse. Its not that I think that white is ugly, not at all. To me dark skin is like battle wounds. It shows that I have earned my potentially cancerous costume from endless sessions with my friend the sun. Never to I feel more me than when my dry, brown shoulders wrinkle and there is salt on my eyebrows. Then school starts, it gets cooler and my fading represents my mourning for the summer past. Good bye brown.

Dear Saint Ana,

2011-10-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

I love your breeze.

Thanks.

Your sunbrowned and salty fan, Mar

Red Tide is so Red that it is Blue

2011-09-27T14:47:00.000-07:00

Went on a walk late last night. From the top of the hill, I could hear the waves beckoning. Looking over the cliffs into the deep darkness, a soft blue glowed back.

Friends of Point Loma

2011-09-24T22:10:00.000-07:00

Sometime, a year or so ago, I ran into friends before surfing. It was a strangely foggy morning and I was out unusually early. At the top of the hill, a few from the local group coincidentally pulled up at the same time. I remember that day so well. Kirk brought his friend Heather to surf Palos Verdes for the first time on the board he had shaped. She and I instantly bonded (between some silver morning waves). I happened to mention that I was moving to Point Loma: turned out that is where she lived.

Since then we have gotten together a few times. Today was one of those. She picked me up and we went to her lovely abode. She showed me her incubating chickens, backyard garden and new board. We even had fun plucking feathers for earrings. Sometimes, I think Heather and I are the same person. Her roommate had just won a foodblog recipe contest that she served to us for brunch. (I brought some passion fruit from the community garden for the event. She won a trip to San Francisco for a foodblog festival.) I told her about my favorite hostel there and she said that would be perfect because she was looking for somewhere to stay. Turns out the event is only a few block from the hostel. Things sometimes just seem to workout so well. After sharing travel tips we shared food. A few others joined us along the way. We all sat and ate together. Homemade bread, fresh herbs, eggs, tomatoes and good people. Every plate was licked. (Check out what we ate.) Afterwords, we all went down stairs to the landlords' house. A man, damp with salt water and wearing chipped glasses greeted us with a smile. We were introduced to him then his wife and then some bees. Together, the retired couple and young women of the house had been harvesting honey. They rigged up a filter with five gallon buckets and cheese cloth, then we watched the golden syrup fold ribbons into our jars. We all got to bring some home as well as enjoy the honeycomb. Everyone brought something to the table today and left with something as well as a full stomach and new friends.

I even ran into some of them in the water this afternoon and we talked between sunset waves.

As We Morn the End of Summer...

2011-09-22T10:56:00.001-07:00

...and welcome fall.

Happy Sunday

2011-09-04T08:28:00.000-07:00

Back with Saint Diego

2011-08-31T23:19:00.000-07:00

Back in San Diego, with a beautiful swell and the sun out. Today, I traveled through the Ocean Beach farmers market; a reality that only exists on Wednesdays. (If I could create a world, it would like a lot like that.) Characters of all kinds: musicians, travelers, locals, vocals, socially minded, monks, children, young people, older people, elderly, vendors from all around, of all kinds and just about everyone else. As I walked through, basking in the sun and culture, I saw a print at an art table that I had seen before. Falling in love with this table laden with beauty, I asked the three people sitting there who the artist was. Slightly confused on how to explain, they said "all of us." Their various prints, each with their own feel but meshing well as friends often do. Three amigos, out to add their own contribution of style to an already colorful place. Inspired by the movement of the waves, their paint swirled with the flow of the ocean. And as wonderful people like that go, they each gave me a print. It made my day. I waltzed through my favorite kind of marketplace, knowing that I could take some of that life to the white walls of my new apartment.

Sketch Holiday

Granny's Avacado

2011-08-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

I've been down Montaray agillion times but never stopped at the cute little Deli that sits amongst the houses. Granny's Grocery and Deli is the cutest little shop. After surfing 26th street Manhattan, my mom and I stopped by on our way back through Hermosa. The man working there has owned it for twenty years. He took our order with a Brazilian/Hermosa surfbum accent; another friendly local face. On the menu there is a sandwich called "The Longborder" which is the same avo sandwich I ordered, but with an added meat. He told us that a guy came in every day and ordered his veggie sandwich with chicken and after a while put it on the menu. He wanted to name it after him but a "Gorge" doesn't sound that good, so since he longborded they just called it "The Longborder."

We sat on the tables outside reading "The Beach Reporter," perusing adds of houses for sale and drinking coconut water. I much enjoyed the avocodo sandwich with extra oil and vinegar and Mom had the tuna salad. It felt so comfortable, like we had been there a thousand times; I can't believe I never went there before.

Gina

2011-08-16T14:26:00.000-07:00

As any true lover of the sea, the natural beauty of the ocean inspires Gina Walton and her charming imagination. Although she has seen many oceans, being raised in England and traveling much of the world, she now resides along the Pacific coast in Redondo Beach, California. Loving every aspect of the ocean, weather it's surfing, diving, fishing or snooggleing (a sport she invented with her surf-rat hubby: snorkeling on a Boogie board), she loves to be creative and quirky. She brings this into every aspect of her life with natural and funky style. Her home is full of wonderful little surprises like fishie cabinet handles, pillows hand-embrodered with delightful creatures, paintings, her pet rocks with faces, sea-glass and shells: anything she can do to blur the line between ocean and home. Her recent artistic endeavor has been gathering and piecing together various jewels of the beach. She takes these rocks, sea-glass, shells and such to fashion together in a whimsical way so they may be enjoyed, even out of the water. Colors and sEach piece is as unique as a new swell, freed to express it's own organic beauty.

As well as using these natural decorations in her own seaside home she sells them locally and on etsy as Natural Treasure.

To Jalama

2011-08-15T23:00:00.000-07:00

The Central California Coast has to be some of the prettiest land and sea in the world and this campground has to be one of the best places to experience it. After winding the fourteen mile ranch road, one steps into a little land know Jalama. It seems like fog is ever-flowing through and around the hills to the north, never seeming to reach this quaint beach. Everything is far. Phones and internet are of no use. The only sign of outside civilization is the train that quietly respects the serenity of the place.

This trip was my family's third time to the little beach we love. Our cousins joined us which seemed to complete our pilgrimage because my mom and my uncle went there as kids and now we could all be there together. Surf, kite surf, kayack, forts, creek swims, hikes, lounging, fires, banana boats, shell collecting, sun, breeze and two crazy families.

Some of our good family friends joined us for the last few days. Every day there was a dream.

Rules of the Game

2011-06-03T20:15:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has been surfing for any amount of time knows The Rules. There is no where you will find these rules. Not a book or a carving in stone. You're not going to learn at surf camp. Most of the time no one will even tell them to you. But surely, they will come. Probably not in the most kind way.

Think about it. You probably know at least a few of these rules. "Don't take of on someone elses wave" is a basic one. But even with that there are many complications which is one reason why they take so long to fully understand. These subruels are learned mostly from trial and error: "don't take off unless you are invited or if it is your home break and you don't recognize the person or if they have a kooky board, cheep wetsuit ect. or if they already fell on or missed a few other waves or if they already took of on one of your waves or if none of the regulars know them or if you are in higher rank than they are."

Rank, although not directly noted, is very important. Climbing the latter starting as a child helps you best know The Rules and when you best know The Rules you can best obey them. Time is required to learn and master these Rules. We begin as groms, to be humbled by our elders and learn our place. This is why so many new surfers that learn as an adult are so unaware; they were never "gromed." Consistency, commitment, respect and knowing your place are things you learn while being raised by the rules.

Of course every spot has its own nuances and variations to be cautiously obeyed. If rules are broken you may be chastised by a dirty look, cursing, vandalism or worse, being held down the ladder, never being able to reach a high rank. Anyone who is a good surfer is good, not only by the merit of his or her own surfing, but by his or her respect for The Rules. The Rules are self enforced. We keep them because we want them. Why we want them, I do know know. Maybe just a desire to be at the top of something--we can climb to the top if we build it ourselves. It is a system of meritus honor. It is the way we make it. It is the game we somehow find so important.

It is the game of surfing.

*However I have found a loophole. A kind smile and calm attitude can make many of the laws melt.

Surf Sufficient: How to Live in a Van

2011-05-31T21:18:00.001-07:00

How To Live In A Van - Surf Sufficient from www.KORDUROY.tv on Vimeo.

A Math Problem

2011-04-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

I walked out of my math test. Brain fried from meaningless numbers to no end. Frazzled. I thought to my self, what is the opposite of math? SURFING. That was the most relevant problem I had solved all day. I made no delay to carry it out.

Give and Take

2011-03-12T23:14:00.000-08:00

A little communist art.

Sea Monster

2011-03-10T01:09:00.000-08:00

as i chase
the monster of the sea
he already has it

the wave as one
the wave as me
if i only knew

how can i find
my friend
the monster of the sea

Oh this land

2011-02-27T16:20:00.000-08:00

Sitting in a park in Paris, France Reading the news and it sure looks bad They won't give peace a chance That was just a dream some of us had Still a lot of lands to see But I wouldn't want to stay here It's too old and cold and settled in it's ways here Oh, but California California I'm coming home I'm going to see the folks I dig I'll even kiss a Sunset pig California I'm coming home I met a redneck on a Grecian isle Who did the goat dance very well He gave me back my smile But he kept my camera to sell Oh the rogue, the red red rogue He cooked good omelettes and stews And I might have stayed on with him there But my heart cried out for you, California Oh California I'm coming home Oh make me feel good rock'n roll band I'm your biggest fan California, I'm coming home Oh it gets so lonely When you're walking And the streets are full of strangers All the news of home you read Just gives you the blues Just gives you the blues So I bought me a ticket I caught a plane to Spain Went to a party down a red dirt road There were lots of pretty people there Reading Rolling Stone, reading Vogue They said, "How long can you hang around?" I said "a week, maybe two, Just until my skin turns brown Then I'm going home to California" California I'm coming home Oh will you take me as I am Strung out on another man California I'm coming home Oh it gets so lonely When you're walking And the streets are full of strangers All the news of home you read More about the war And the bloody changes Oh will you take me as l am? Will you take me as l am? Will you?

-Joni

Surf in Art

2011-02-06T17:18:00.000-08:00

This guy makes me smile.

To make the most of all sorts of waves, the first Rubenesque single fin was born around the late 1400s. Much like the wave riders of it's time, the full plan shape, AKA the Egg, was wide at the hips and was in vogue right after Botticelli captured it on canvas.

Slight offshores and the warmth of an awaiting towel greet Venus as she comes back from a Mediterranean go out.

Pablo "Pops" Picasso used to enjoy days at the beach playing in the surf and stretching cincos on his longboard. He also enjoyed capturing "caught moments" of everyday life, particularly the surfing life. Here he paints "woman waxing thruster", this body of work was later to be known as his "paraffin period".

http://patchies-hideout.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html

The Businessman

2011-02-05T22:57:00.001-08:00

Don't bring it in the water.

The black Beemer wagon screeched into the parking spot on the cliffs. A man with short brown hair, designer sunglasses and a wellgroomed stubblebeard hung up his phone, hopped out of the car and raced no one but himself to get suited up and down to the water. It is Saturday morning and he is ready to fight. The boxing bell rings. Without hesitation or thought, he charged the water and paddled out with fierceness splashing from him. He pushed into the very center of the line up (an action that did not go unnoticed) and wasted no time and jerks his custom board back around for the set. With an intense glare and defensive stance, he pushed himself into the wave and rushed back and fourth, forceing his will to push the wave as far as he could ride it. He repeated this until everyone in the water had caught no waves, only his infectious, competitive disposition that he was not even aware of. Back and fourth, mindlessly he circles with such drive going in all and no direction.

I could hardly help notice the intense hunger of the animal, alien to the sea. He treated the wave as a commodity and people as a mere obstacle. His whole word seemed "out of sight, out of mind," not even knowing what he was craving so badly. It seems that those in the business realm would be drawn into the ocean as a place of peace away from the land of materialism, but this man had torn the line between his two worlds. There is so much contentment to gain in the ocean, enough to carry throughout the week into any workplace but selfish consumerism does not belong in the water much like an empty, floating plastic bag. Surfing is not the most bang for your buck, buy one get one free, shipped from China, trademarked, opportunity to sue, or about the most you can get for the least you can give.

The man that day walked to his car driping and as anxious as he had been when he arrived.

...Lady of Spring...

2011-01-27T21:58:00.000-08:00

Will come soon.

Spring in the Air

2011-01-27T21:45:00.000-08:00

Spring. New things are coming. Always filled with excitement. When a warm day comes, people flock to the beach as if they had never seen the sun before. How we forget so quickly about months past.

Day and Night

2011-01-20T21:19:00.001-08:00

My Kinda People

2011-01-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

Oh, Thomas

2011-01-14T19:45:00.000-08:00

Thomas Campbell- FUEL TV Signature Series ID from FUEL TV on Vimeo.

So, I wish Thomas Campbell was my best friend.

Cloudy Day

2011-01-05T09:59:00.000-08:00

Cloudy
The sky is gray and white and cloudy,
Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me.
And it's a hitchhike a hundred miles.
I'm a rag-a-muffin child.
Pointed finger-painted smile.
I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.

Cloudy
My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy,
They have no borders, no boundaries.
They echo and they swell
From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell.
Down from Berkeley to Carmel.
Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill.

Hey sunshine
I haven't seen you in a long time.
Why don't you show your face and bend my mind?
These clouds stick to the sky
Like floating questions, why?
And they linger there to die.
They don't know where they are going, and, my friend, neither do I.

Cloudy,
Cloudy.

-Paul Simon, Bruce Woodley

Raindrops

2011-01-03T22:19:00.000-08:00

Last night I set my alarm for possibly the latest morning time it has been set: 10:50am. Winter break has been good to me. Even thought I didn't hear it, I still got up around 11:00. Still in time for a good low tide. Even though there were light peppering raindrops out my window, I was pulled west non the less. When I got to the spot I could see a few more people had also braved the trickle and seemed to be catching a few here and there. I pondered staying high and dry for the day, not having to treck down and dunk into icy water. Oh, might as well.

I grabbed my backpack and board and started for the goat trail. After not-so-slowly oozing down a few feet (cute, not so sturdy rainboots, not such a good choice), I concluded, with the help of a few laughs behind me, that the long way round would be wise. It was quite the venture to retrace my slips back to where I had begun. Even the long way proved itself to be no ease. Wind blew my board like a sail and blew me like a little lost boat but eventually I reached the end of the mud, then the sand, then the rocks then the bench.

Once I was suited up and into the blackish ice water, I paddled into the line up carful not to get to wet so I could stay warm and tried not to think of storm drain pollution. I sat cold, bare footed. The hole in the neoprene of my left forearm and nee did not prove helpful. Then I noticed the wind had left. The next few waves glassed with silver perfection. It was like a hidden, winter Malibu under a layer of gray, wet sky and marine clouds. A faint rainbow came into the distance and soon the clouds in the distance began to dissolve. The distant north bay seemed washed clean and golden. Even Fido came to watch with us. Happy new year.

Art: Claude Monet, Eddie Davis

My Friend Fido

2011-01-01T23:56:00.000-08:00

Home for the holidays and back to the place I love. Every time I get to The Spot, a flood of beauty rises up in me. After the last few days of rain, the cliffs seem to glitter with leaves in the sun, the glistening swell always inviting, my favorite smell on earth. It is like home but not the kind of home you own or even the kind you share. It is the kind of place where you simply dwell. It is where you are. Somehow it is so set apart from anything else and to be back was like returning to the way things were. The way it was; the way it is.

With a full heart, I took the trial I had often traveled, my much missed afternoon vacation. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me as if the last three month semester in San Diego was just like a few day lull. Like when you fall asleep and seem to wake up the next moment and suddenly it is morning. This was my morning. Greg, Tom, Kyle, Gemma, Wanda, Mickey, everyone was there like I never left. "Hows it going?" I would ask. "Same old same old." Seemed to be the theme of most replies. As I spouted my recent happenings, part of me was sorry that they hadn't been growing and experiencing the way I had been the last few months. Part of me was so happy to come back to consistency.

Even though it was a windswell, I could predict almost every wave. Where it would break, how tall it would grow, who would take it, who would miss it and who would cut someone off. In and out. In and out. But when I would ride, something seemed new, something different. The sea floor had not changed. The water had not changed. The moon had not changed. Only I had changed. I was not the same. I paddled back and sat there thinking. I drifted out slightly and probably missed a few waves but I was caught by this feeling of tension between old and new. While I was gone the kelp had grown immense amounts in the winter water and wrapped around my leg. The sun shone on my back and even though I felt something was different, it was not bad.

While deep in thought, a warm, soft mass brushed the soul of my foot. Then someone pointed, "Seal!" The little guy swam over to Sam and began to sniff at his foot as if to see what he was up to. He glided easily between a few of us awkward humans on chunks of foam as we waited nervously. We had seen him many times before but never so close or so friendly. He peeked his head out and faced me with his deep dark eyes, speckled ears and puppy nose. He had lived there his whole life. He laid on the same rock every day that his mother had laid on before him. Hew was a lonely little pet, excited to see us after the rain.

Have a Swell Day

2010-12-25T01:04:00.000-08:00

Faith and peace to you this lovely day and...
Found these jolly greetings on Etsy.

Roots of Giving This Friday

2010-12-01T18:32:00.000-08:00

:::Replacing Consumerism With Compassion:::
Come share in fair-trade, craft-making, micro-finance, non-prophet, tasty treats and the warmness of the holiday season. Come to Point Loma and join the festivities (3900 Lomaland Drive, San Diego).

Dirty Gold

2010-11-28T23:54:00.000-08:00

Dirty Gold - California Sunrise from Panaframe ▲ on Vimeo.

Just the Red Guy Down the Street

2010-11-28T23:48:00.001-08:00

Watch it Now

2010-11-27T15:24:00.001-08:00

For all y'all who just can't make it out of the house or really are broke. Or both.

Happy Post-Thanksgiving

2010-11-27T15:03:00.000-08:00

Art by aly d.

Wave of Heat

2010-11-25T00:36:00.000-08:00

Braving it on a sunny day.

Sunny Day

2010-11-04T15:40:00.000-07:00

Summer is finally here. The air is dry and the swell is high. I get a few looks being a girl with a leashless log in my vintage flowery onepiece running down the sunset cliffs but today is just so great.

Its the Proper Way

2010-10-21T23:05:00.000-07:00

I paddled out today out because it was one of those rare moments I like to take hold of. It was a time where I had nothing better to do, but what is better? Even thought the waves were not quite the best. So, I went out with the joy of knowing I could stay as long as I want (well without missing a psychology test or coffee with that one guy). So I sat out there, more sit than surf, which led to some talking (as I usually do). There was a fella from Argentina and he commented while we were paddling for a set, "the waves are getting bigger." "Yeah. Northwest coming right." Then he put it so lovely, "The waves should be good tomorrow for proper surfing." Proper. Is there a proper way to surf? Well as I ponder that, I felt like it was a good excuse for me only have caught one and a half waves.

Weather Spoiler

2010-10-12T13:44:00.000-07:00

As I live in this menopausal, hormonal fall of Southern California, there is always the sure conversation-spicer of the weather. "I can't believe how freezing it is," or maybe the next day "I'm dying of heat stroke." When in reality, it is not all so drastic. Sure, it does fluctuate somewhat sporadicly, but really, is it all that crazy? Yeah this summer was "cold" and this fall is warmer; maybe somewhat odd, but not crazy. Surfing next to snow covered banks, that is crazy. I refuse to where a wetsuit most of the time and people call me crazy; wearing a 5:3, booties and hood, that's crazy. We, the spoiled over here on the West Coast, complain while dabbling our toes skittishly in 60 degree water; that's crazy too.

Sea Lion Woman

2010-10-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

Sea Lion woman
Dressed in green
Silver lining and golden seams

Sea Lion woman
Dressed in blue
Call a man
And he knows what he can do

Sea Lion woman
She drinks coffee
She drinks tea
And we're so cold

-Feist

A Little Something to Write Home About

2010-10-01T00:43:00.000-07:00

Dear North West Swell,

Your visit was nice, even if I did not get to see you much. It seems like forever since your last stay and I have missed you so much. This has been a crazy week for me and I know you were busy too (such the popular guy, seemed like everyone and their mothers wanted to spend some time with you). Please come and stay here any time you wish; you are very welcome.

Hope to see you soon.

Much love from your friend, Mar

Dead at the Greek

2010-09-22T19:13:00.000-07:00

From South San Diego to further. We pulled up to the field of gypsies, the followers. It was like the sixties had never ended. Music in the air, peoples laughter, the sweet and spiced aromas of luminescent amenities. I saw so many people I knew and so many strangers. We funneled into our seats. Bob Leir, Phil Lesh and that DSO guy. Man are they something. The audience, buzzing harmoniously to the rhythm of the music.

Get Stoked On Saturday

2010-09-12T01:04:00.001-07:00

The Move South

2010-08-31T23:23:00.000-07:00

As I pack my belongings into large bags and boxes, I imagine the waves of the foreseeable feature. Putting my board in it's bag, I leave the familiarly. Although I will be in the same ocean it is not the same water. This new water is unfamiliar. It is inhabited by other creatures. Moving south is like going to a new school. As I paddle out, the same nervous thoughts and questions will enter my mind. Will the other kids like me? Will I make a fool of myself? This is not the same as my old school. This is scary. Which way do I go? As I paddle out, I see it is the same ocean. I feel for the patterns of energy: a new expression, the same language. It is something new but something I know. Surly it will take time. Los Angeles to San Diego is like public school to private school. The rules are new. The people look different. 120 miles is enough to change the mode but it is still the same ocean. It is not a bad place to be.

All I wanted to do...

2010-08-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

From the upcoming, Stoked and Broke.

Stoked & Broke Teaser from www.KORDUROY.tv on Vimeo.

Tales of Brave Ulysses

2010-08-28T14:45:00.000-07:00

You thought the leaden winter
Would bring you down forever
But you rode upon a steamer
To the violence of the sun

And the colors of the sea
Blind your eyes with trembling mermaids
And you touch the distant beaches
With tales of brave Ulysses
How his naked ears were tortured
By the sirens sweetly singing
For the sparkling waves are calling you
To kiss their white lace legs

And you see your girl's brown body
Dancing through the turquoise
And her footprints make you follow
Where the sky loves the sea
And when your fingers find her
She drowns you in her body
Carving deep blue ripples
In the tissues of your mind

And tiny purple fishes
Run laughing through your fingers
And you want to take her with you
To the hardland of the winter

Her name is Aphrodite
And she rides a crimson shell
And you know you cannot leave her
For you touched the distant sands
With tales of brave Ulysses
How his naked ears were tortured
By the sirens sweetly singing

And tiny purple fishes
Run laughing through your fingers
And you want to take her with you
To the hardland of the winter

-Cream

From Summer to Fall

2010-08-19T23:14:00.000-07:00

Summer is finally here. Sunny days. And now I see back to school adds in windows and hovering over the freeways. But honestly this new school year in San Diego is going to be wonderful. Hopefully, the summer just decided to scoot into fall.

Empty Malibu

2010-08-17T14:25:00.001-07:00

Today I headed up to Leo Carrillo with Gemma. After double checking the cove (just to make sure some phantom swell hadn't rolled through) and certifying it FLAT, we hoped in her van and drove up PCH fairly early. Passing up all the good beach stops we saw the whole south bay was ironed out; not a wave in sight, not even a crease. We flew up the coast we made good time then almost peed our pants when we saw how gorgeous the Bu was. Nice little peelers. Sunshine. And less than ten guys out. It was a dream. Of coarse I have heard tell of such things, but weren't those just fish tales? So in disbelief, we stopped our journey and pulled up to a choice parking spot up in front and ran out, still quivering with excitement. Bareback, we caught endless waves all to our self to make for a very satisfying morning. Sometimes a sweet surprise just makes the day.

I'm off on a Trip...

2010-08-01T12:53:00.001-07:00

heading north.

Shortie

2010-07-22T21:01:00.000-07:00

Stumbled across this...

Sacred Craft Shorts Film Fest by Korduroy.tv Teaser from www.KORDUROY.tv on Vimeo.

No Fail Dream Session Recipie

2010-07-22T20:37:00.001-07:00

What makes a day perfect? Every ingredient to cook up a dream session was measured carefully and served with with love today.

Dream Session

1 sunshiney sky
4-6 1/2 feet of desired swell direction
3 friends, willing to share
14 good vibrations
1 pinch of offshore wind

Mix together and cook in sun at 78 degrees for 3 hours or until completely exhausted. You can never fail if you stick to this simple recipe; everyone will gobble it up. Note: be sure to time tide as recommended for your location.

A Perfect Day for Today

2010-07-20T11:17:00.001-07:00

Art by Daina

2010-07-20T10:20:00.000-07:00

Every lovely little piece is filled with feeling, sences. It is like you can smell the sea, feel the sun and love the kiss. Maybe I'm biased, I just adore the sweet balance of pin-up and surfer, making the perfect lady.

Check out Daina Deblette Scarola.

The Surfing Hipster

2010-07-20T10:19:00.001-07:00

Trends hit our society like a drop of rain. At first there is only a drop, but shortly there is a storming shower with a toxic runoff afterwords. Even the surfing world finds itself in the forecast from time to time. I try to steer clear of all this commotion but sometimes find myself caught up in the flood.

I was talking to my buddy, kyle, who was getting down on the "old school trend." He was telling me how he is sick and tired (and justifiably so) of every kook with a log going around thinking he's better than everyone else in the water.

Now, I don't approve of dressing, acting or thinking any one certain way, simply because everyone else thinks its bitchin' to dress, act or think that way, but maybe there is more to it. There is almost always a good reason when something becomes popular. Certainly some kids are simply mimicking what they see everyone else doing, but I believe that this "trend" came from a innocent source.

Correct me if I am wrong, because I was not there, not even born, but the era which these lost souls are searching for is long past us. I have heard many a tale of how the waves were better then, how the people were drawn together by a common love. The surfing children of today are simply searching for the soul of the art, a pilgrimage to the purity of surfing.

You can never stay on top of the trends, with them or against them. Even being anti-trend is trendy.

So maybe this is in vogue with the hipsters today but the test of time will tell the heart of intentions.

Besides, it is so much better than the baggy pants trend.

Finally Here

2010-07-16T22:08:00.000-07:00

June Gloom threatened to stay all of July but he has packed his bags and Miss Summer is here to stay. Good day Sunshine.

Ladies Making Art, Loving the Ocean

2010-07-12T00:07:00.000-07:00

Cowabunga Batman!

2010-07-05T13:27:00.000-07:00

The Sweet Potato

2010-07-02T14:20:00.000-07:00

After a session at the Spot, I picked up my sister at Avenue A. As we were getting into my little yellow wagon a guy, who looked about the same age as my dad, knocked on my window. Shoot, I thought, I'm probably in his parking spot or something. I cranked the passenger window down and he asked "Do you know the heritage of your car?"

Puzzled, I answered, "Uh, Corolla?"

"No I mean, do you know where it came from?"

I explained how I bought her in San Clemente from Craigslist. He told me that my exact car was the surf wagon of Palos Verdes when he was in high school. 1977. How it provided transportation and housing for many surftrips and parties. "We went everywhere in this thing. There's probably still seeds under the seats," he told me laughing. "Chris probably just gave it to some guy at SanO."

Some how my Sweet Potato found her way back home.

There Will Always be Home

2010-06-17T18:59:00.000-07:00

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

Thatsa lot of wonderful on one room. Please dance.

The Aquarium Has Never Been So Fun

2010-06-15T23:40:00.000-07:00

Check out the night life. Apparently, Aquarium of the Pacific is having an art show. John Culqui will be there doing live painting and there's music and drinks, not to mention a bike valet!

Support local art. Party with the fishies.

The Man In the Van

2010-06-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

The clouds were lingering still, spread thin and patchy over my head. It felt like muggy central California; morning dew had crept down the coast. I had circled the routine wave check for the north of the hill. Cove: Nope. RAT: Nope. Avenues: Don't think so. Haggs: Humm... Small but empty. Some unconvincing, meek little swells peeled around the rock reflecting the soft cloudy sky. I walked back to the gazebo, just to make sure that some magic head high swell hadn't materialized at RAT. The beach was still the same and while I was trying to will the waves to appear I heard a chunky sound that was some kind of collaboration between a rattle and a hum not to mention the squeaky parking job. This must have been the uncle of my old and equally loud car. From a distance I could see a plaid shirt, striped shorts and blond head step out of the old Vanagon (which I was surprised could support the hoard of boards it held inside and out).

I walked to the little tree that had been bent to a bench and saw him again, just standing there. His eyes were fixed out to sea.

"You gonna go out?" I asked.

"This little left pops up every once in a while." As he turned to me I could see the excitement and glimmer in his burnt, green eyes.

"Yeah. I've been watching."

"What's this place called?"

"Haggertys," I notified with an unworthy authority.

He told me how it is hard to keep all the spots lined up in his head but that he had been out here once before. That morning he had checked nearly every break from Bolsa Chica through Palos Verdes. I asked him where he was from and was surprised and somewhat impressed when he said New York. From the sounds of it, it sounded like he had been everywhere, had a myriad of unofficial addresses and surfed nearly every break in the states. He was telling me about his recent near death rock climbing experience when he interrupted himself. "Where is Redondo?"

I pointed. "There. Torrance. Redondo. Hermosa. It's two minouts from here." Apparently that was his next destination.

"So you ready to do this? Go grab your board." He smiled.

I laughed and obediently I went to my car. When we met back at the top where you slide down to the water (I hesitate to call it a "trail") he had two boards in hand. One was a pretty little fish with a beautiful quad set and marble design on the deck while the other board was quite the sight to be seen. This creature was once a soft top which now had a good two feet chopped off and someone had taken a sharpie to it chiseled on a shark mouth and some gruesome, buggy eyeballs. I was cordially introduced to this monster who he refereed to as "be-bop." As it turned out, he riped on this thing (whatever that thing was). And with such style. This was the first New Yorker I had surfed with although he was truly a man of no land. He was so stoked to be on a wave, riding anything. In between sets we discussed his travels and ambitions. I have never seen someone that enjoyed the world so much. He reminded me of the pokey little puppy. Far from home but it didn't matter. He was just going. Moving. Looking around. I wonder if he will ever find what he is looking for.

Let's Make a Date...

2010-06-01T16:44:00.000-07:00

Feel the Summer Commin' On

2010-05-29T18:22:00.000-07:00

It is nearly here. The tension is tight before the ease of the new season but everyone knows everything will be alright soon. We feel it in our bones.

Trendsetting

2010-05-25T15:46:00.000-07:00

Aperently Im more du juor in my wetsuit than my new summer dress. Vogue Magazine just declared surfware the up and coming trend this summer.

"The impending promise of sea and sun had designers looking to the surf for spring/summer 2010; runways were packed with body-con scuba dresses, swimsuits in every variety with crisscrossing body straps and revealing cut-a-ways. Ms Diaz's surf skills leave most of us quaking in our neoprene socks, but fear not, there are easier ways to convince of your affinity for the waves, just think outside the box; rainbow-bright rubber bangles, neoprene sandals, ergonomic cut outs. Proenza Schouler's acid brights, Pucci's day-glo prints and Thakoon's scuba dresses are the way to go."

Are people really wearing "neoprene socks" around New York City? Hey, if it floats your boat. Its funny because I feel like a dork when I slip on some booties (which is never). Who decides this stuff is cool? Not that I am against wearing goggles and a coin purse tied on to my shorts but it sure is interesting to see it in Vogue. Also it is somewhat insulting to say that wearing this drag connects you with the waves. As if throwing on a polo makes you Andre Agassi. And zinc on the face? Really? But as ridicules as all these get ups are, I am almost fond of them. It is familiar to me although I'm sure strange is what they were going for.

P.S. I always wear heels with my Spedo.

For more fun click here.

The Losness Monster

2010-05-24T16:46:00.000-07:00

Well, he's no monster at all. I just discovered the talented and sweet Mike Losness paints as well on canvas as he does on the water. Not to mention the lovely hand bags that his beautiful wife designs.

Explore the work of this San Clemente couple:

www.mikelosness.com/art

www.modaviajando.com

A Little Leo

2010-05-14T20:54:00.000-07:00

Gemma and I, out and about this morning, venturing north. With work squeezed aside, we set out, freedom blowing through the windows of the '89 Isuzu. There is something about time when you know you normally would have been working. Everything is on your own time, as early, late, close or far as you wish. We made our leisurely stops at the coffee shops and surf spot, chatting through the coastline to finally end up in Leo Carrillo. The south swell was starting up slowly and the waves were meagerly peeling off the rock. Surfing a small and friendly crowd can never be wrong. It was a beautiful, overcast, adventure of a morning.

Prospects From a Beatuiful, Flat Day Alone...

2010-05-12T16:36:00.000-07:00

Cove

no island at all
a sanctuary, water
my island, the sea
tangles in freedom
worriless
in my water
blue green
peace
refuge
even to watch
sooths
the waves roll
caressing
the blossoms sweet potpourri
breeze blows clean
nothing but green, brown and blue
so
much
blue
hides the gray
so far, distant
reaching
a rough trail left behind
what might just be a bad dream

Just Stand Up

2010-05-04T16:51:00.001-07:00

Surfers hate sweepers. Sweepers hate haters. And thus, the dispute continues.

One sunny afternoon I was out with a few buddies when a stand-up comes rolling around the point. I threw out a wave. My friend scorned me, "Don't wave to the paddler."

"That's my uncle," I replied, smiling at his embarrassed face. Turns out that this man wasn't even my uncle, just some kook out to get in everybody's way. Sits smack in the line up, falls of his boat of a board and almost knocks out a few kids.

Now, not to say I am anti-paddle. Secretly, Ive enjoyed a few strokes out to sea on a sunny, flat day. And I have seen some impressive paddling; my real uncle races some beastly competitions. But there is something to be said of the carelessness of some of these sweepers. Ever since Laird did it, everybody and his uncle thinks they can wheel on of these things around: a seriously dangerous trend. But at the same time it seems just as cool to hate the stand-ups. So where do we fall? Well, you can decide for yourself.

Beauty

2010-05-03T23:25:00.001-07:00

It is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. It is something so simple yet so complex. You could look at a flower and comment on its beauty. Done. Simple. But have you ever thought what makes something beautiful? What is beauty? Not so simple.

I was chatting with Gemma, who has this new gig at a spa. Apparently, it is owned by some crazy cougar who wants to "beautifuy" her. From the tell of this lady I would not want her to touch me. Bleached hair, plastic rack, stiff face, balloon lips, cheetah print, hot pink, the whole package. Gemma and I looked at each others brown, creased faces, salty, long hair and free smiles. We laughed, imagianing a feature transformation, "No thanks!"

"She"

2010-04-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

Tarballs and Scars

2010-04-28T16:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I hide my feet. They have to be the ugliest feet. There are 15 scars on the right foot and 27 on the left, not to mention those lovely lumps on the top from knee-paddling (you know, those weird ankle like mounds on the top side of each foot--calcium deposits or something of the like) .

It seems like every time I hobble up the rocks to my backpack, there is a little spot of red on my toe or ankle. After my last wave I cruse up to shore, hop of my board, thigh high in the surf, wait for the tender timing of the whitewash pounding the shore, watch it push up the sloped stones and then dance my way to land, careful not to be pulled by the quickly receding water. Then I see it. Another little slice. And every time the last one is just starting to heal, I get a new one.

But, secretly, I almost like them. Like battle wounds, they show my dedication. "Her feet are all covered in tarballs and scars." Maybe there is something to it; a wild kind of beauty. My scars and lumps. Or not. Maybe it is just plain ugly.

My dad looked down at my bare toesies. "Well," he said one day with a deep breath, "you'll never be a sandals model."

Have a Beatuiful Earthday

2010-04-22T15:55:00.000-07:00

Our oceans are our earth. We are in them, we eat from them. We should care for our beautiful gift.

Check out the Plastiki:

That Depends On How You Look At It

2010-04-22T12:29:00.001-07:00

No surf today...

A Happy Baby

2010-04-21T17:41:00.001-07:00

Sunny Santa Monica Morning

2010-04-13T16:36:00.000-07:00

I've never thought much of Santa Monica. Never been there much. I mean it's all the rich beach people who drive eco-friendly cars because it's in style. Right? I have a job there on Tuesdays where I get this enormously long break which I have used to explore and adventure throughout the area. I've been to Venice and Malibu, but today I thought, maybe I should just stay here, save some gas. So I scoured for a free parking spot with no street sweeping signs (hard to do). Finally, my search ended on 4th and Bricknell (Tuesday street sweeping from 3pm to 5pm) and strolled down to the sand with a heavy bag of homework.

Plopping down at tower 22, I gazed out at the big pond. Apparently, it was a nice day: lefts, rights, pretty big, nice shape, sunny. Sitting there on the berm was a tanned and wrinkled face under a woven hat, with a gray braid and some old 501s sitting in a beach chair. We started talking. He said his name was Dan we started chatting. He told me he was strictly longboards, about how he started shaping after the war because when he came back stateside everyone had religiously converted to shortboards. So he made himself an eight-footer. "Guess who was gettin' all the waves?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

He went on to tell many a tale of his trips to Jalama and Poipu. In the sand he drew diagrams of the secret spots that have no photographic evidence, ones that had been break-walled in the 70s, the perfect lefts. He introduced me to the some of the regulars down at 22, told me about the P.O.P. in times before they charged for parking and how he hung out in the lot, about the Fall surf adventures he and his wife had when they were dating. Even how he would often visit Ventura and surf while the Grateful Dead were playing at the fairgrounds, melodies filling the waves. Pausing once or twice, he commented about how a crusty old guy like him was yakking my ear off. I appreciated his thoughtfulness (truly, some are not so kind), but was genuinely interested and told him to go on.

We watched wave after wave while I eagerly listened to his charming stories and told him about comparatively insignificant experiences. A sweeper caught a smooth left and he asked me, "The name Stacy Peralta ring a bell?"

Are you kidding me?, I thought. "Umhum."

"Yeah. He mostly rides on of those things now." Stacie waved as he got out. "You'll never catch me with a paddle."

I laughed in agreement. Leave it to me to make friends with one of these everyday legends.

Didn't get much homework done this morning.

Woman

2010-04-11T09:16:00.001-07:00

This has to be the best shot ever. Bare feet. Little carve. Just plain beautiful.

The Ocean Glow

2010-04-10T16:04:00.000-07:00

Last night I was enjoying a warm night out on a Manhattan walk-street with some friends when someone suggested we walk down and watch the red tide. We all oohed and awed at the magical glow of the bioluminescent blooms of those neat little creatures. It is something like fireworks: gathering under the stars, watching the bursts of light shining from the tumbling crests. These cute little (well, smelly and dying) phytoplankton are like the fireflies of the sea, creating beautiful neon swirls. It is so stunning to see the graceful wonder that the Creator has made.

The Surfing Hipster

2010-04-09T13:50:00.001-07:00

Salt

2010-04-08T14:24:00.000-07:00

The air has been so dry, the wave so mellow, glimpses of a feature season. Every time I get out of the water I have dainty flecks of salt under my eyebrows and I can feel it all over my skin. Nothing better.

Wishing You a Joyous Easter

2010-04-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

Art by Daina

2010-04-03T20:18:00.001-07:00

Check out Daina Deblette Scarola.

Keeping it Friendly

2010-04-01T15:09:00.001-07:00

As I was packing up my board this morning, one of the infamous Palos Verdes Police Department Vehicles rolled up and a large, uniformed, clean shaven man gave a little wave. I threw one back then he rolled down his window. My hart started to flutter, my mind raced, I'm clean, parking job okay, not driving, what could he want? My tires are old. Shoot, these guys will get you for anything.

"Is that your car?" He motioned toward the Sweetpotato.

"Uhhh...Yeah."

"I see you here, like everyday. You must go out a lot." He smiled.

I smiled back and laughed a little chuckle of relief before he drove off. As my buddy Kyle said, "Gotta keep it friendly with those guys."

From Sea to Shineing Sea

2010-03-30T18:00:00.001-07:00

I hopped out of the Sweetpotato to take a look down the cliff at Haggerty's. Standing there was a small crowd watching the blustery waves as they blew in a stormy mess.

I peered out at the water, pulling my sweater tighter and spoke into the wind, "doesn't look like much."

"Yeah. Kinda shonky," said a sweet and soft, accented voice. She was standing in a group of older guys. We started chatting and she told me that she was here on vacation with her dad who was buying a big sailboat that he was planning to sale back to Australia. After talking for a while we decided to meet up the next day and hoped the waves would be more promising.

I walked away, amazed. I had gained yet another friend through the ocean. I was even more amazed the next day when I saw the quirky yet beautiful logging skills of this quiet, young glider. If living in Australia helps your surf like that, guess I'm moving down under.

"Surfer Girl"

2010-03-30T16:50:00.000-07:00

I hate being boxed. With one word people can assume nearly anything. SURFER. There is such variety in the surfing world, who knows what images that title brings to a persons mind. And yeah, Im a girl, but not beachbanket babe in a Beachboys song. I am not someone who puts on as little clothing a possible, just to have it washed away by the ocean. I am a human being who loves the ocean.

My friend Andria told me, "Sometimes I lie to people and tell them I don't surf. Its embarrassing."

"Yeah," I agreed, "It's like you are either some 'chick' who pulls her suit back up more than she surfs or some hardcore beast who's as buff as an elephant and would bite someones head off."

There are too many connotations associated with surfing. Why can't we just be people who surf rather than surfers? In some ways, I suppose, we should own what we are, but on the other hand, I don't want to be what other people think I should be. Yes, I surf. No, I do not drive a truck with a big pink Roxy sticker and my Al Merrick in the back. I mean, if that is how you want to be, go for it, but why is that how everyone has to be? I surf because I love it; not because it matches my outfit. I can define my own surfing; it does not define me.

A few other ladies and myself wear pretty dresses down the trail to surf, have a brain and other talents besides sporting a bikini. I want to bring a beauty to woman's wave riding, some class and grace. I want to glide with finesse. Slide to my own style.

Spring is Upon Us

2010-03-25T15:04:00.000-07:00

It is starting to look like spring, some little south hemis stroll through now and again. Mr. Sun is starting to peep through the clouds, setting later and later. Temperatures are slightly more tolerable. And to think, summer is just around the corner.

When Earth Mimics Sky

2010-03-20T23:44:00.000-07:00

Have A Happy Spring

2010-03-20T21:39:00.000-07:00

Wishing you all the best on this lovely day of spring.

The Future

2010-03-19T16:42:00.000-07:00

Does this even qualify as a camper?

Posh.

More Philosophizing with the Hurdy Gurdy Man

2010-03-18T19:28:00.000-07:00

"We're all one big energy," said Benji. "The ocean is one big energy."

I stared back into his wide, blue, swirling eyes that had as much energy as the sea itself. I nodded, a thoughtful nod. It is hard to reciprocate any thoughts back to him so I mostly listen. He has so much to say about so much.

"You know when you can feel her energy," he usually refers the ocean to a woman, an analogy that does not apply half as well to me as it does to him. "The pulses, the movement, you know when she is going to give you a wave, don't you Mar? I can tell. You know her timing. You just need to get away form everybody. Don't let those guys get in your way. She will send one to you. I surrender to her. I tell her I love her and she gives me love."

"Humm....," I try to untie what he is saying, figure how it all fits together and where the truth lies. His train of thought move so fast, I almost have no time in the station but I love to watch it fly by.

"Wanta sing a song?"

"O.K. Benji. Sure."