27.3.08

blue schnoz

Part 1

(press play before you begin)

It’s been a little while since I felt like writing anything. Seems like the last few have been bleak and sad but today is sunny and that helps a bit. It’s finally above zer0 for a change. Last weekend was long and needed. I surfed on Friday, Saturday and Sunday –with each day getting smaller and less impressive. On Monday I went snowboarding on an icy hill about an hour and a half drive into the valley, not too far from the Bay of Fundy, the place with the biggest tidal fluctuations on earth.

On Sunday I surfed with Blacks and the Doctor. It was probably knee to thigh high and choppy with below freezing air temps. The Doctor loaned me his 9’6” displacement hull – it’s a popout and quite light for its size. On the third wave I went for I pearled, the wind caught the board and smacked me on the side of the face almost breaking my schnoz. When I sat up on the board I ran my mitt under my nose and there was a bit of blood but no gushing. Luckily the cold water kept the swelling down and generally numbed my face for the rest of the session. I enjoyed a few little choppers in a parallel stance right smack dab in the middle of the big log.

In between sneaking a cigarette now and again while swilling a beer I’ve managed to sign myself up for the Blue Nose half marathon here in Halifax on May 18th. I’ve never been much of a runner but I do enjoy the focus and serenity that running can provide to my ruminating gray matter. The other side effect of the new training regimen is that my wetsuit will probably fit better in the end and I’ll have a little more power in my stroke when paddling into waves. Even better the girls in the office are in on the run so it’ll be a good time.

Todays music: Fela Kuti



Part 2

One of my best and oldest bredjren got me into Fela. He used to play Fela -like to make you mad. But eventually the incessant rhythmic sway of the music was ingrained into me like genes. Now I just groove like tire tracks on the sand. T-Bone and I had some crazy times -skipping school to surf shitty beach break and streak in front of the air force base, or ride fixed from bar to bar in PDX, from Southeast to Northeast and downtown across the Steel and back, T-Bone running into parked cars and I trying to light a cigarette while spinning on the fix and no hands and balance due to two too many PBR's who knows where I can’t recall now, never could. And I remember T and I bombing the steepest hill in Discovery Bay, Jamdown on a barrowed razor scooter, barefoot, white rum pulsing in our veins and perhaps a spliff or two in. We later left that razor in the back of some ex-plantation relative’s pick up truck only to pay for it for the next year in tongue lashings from little miss southern bell my daddy bought me that (so you could ride it on the mean streets of Jamaica? Does yer daddy want you dead? You should thank me for losing the goddamned scooter!), T long gone back to NC or Egypt or Holland or cycling through Italy before his bike got stolen from a train and the trip cut short. We don't see each other much these days but I know soon well get together again and raise hell like can only be done with friends for whom words are unnecessary. Thanks T-Bone for the inspiration and glad you didn’t get killed in the basement bar in Greece when the bearded one had to leave you in fear of his own safety, and over buying a drink? Reminds me how our lives are simple and we gots to live them in full or expire debased and debunked. Goodnight and mahalos and yun no sen, me no come.

3 comments:

pushingtide said...

No one top Fela.

Malcolm Johnson said...

rad story, rad words.

"Now I just groove like tire tracks on the sand."

Foulweather... said...

Fela was a crazy character on so many levels. Love his music. Sometimes I watch surf videos and think, this pseudo punk crap doesn't go well with surfing at all..... how about a Curren on a long Jbay wall, with some Fela Kuti...

Anyway, I know I'm always dropping reading suggestions but there is a great collection of essay about Fela called "From West Africa to West Boroadway." I picked it up a Fela retrospective in SF a few years back.