ego trippin through the weekend

so sore today and my nose and cheeks burn from too much sun and wind. all good remnants of a weekend full of surf. on Saturday evening Blacks and JB and I paddled out at the hamster wheel around six in the evening. the waves were glassy and lining up nicely along the point with the occasional overhead set. it was a ton of fun but lots of work too.

we'd walk to the top of the point and jump into the drift. within seconds you'd be at the takeoff spot. then it was a matter of paddling up the current to try and stay in position until you could catch one. the good ones dropped you off far inside. then it was get out and do it again. quite a tiring session but relatively uncrowded and a great vibe.

yesterday the local surf association held the annual spring surf contest. it was a great time. the contest was a true community event with the men's open including guys from 16 years of age all the way to their mid 30's (yeah that's me). I entered the men's open and the longboard. I gotta say that there's no better way to temper your ego than to compete. the surf was not ideal, two to four feet with howling onshores at a point does not make for ideal conditions but everyone charged it with an open attitude. I had no chance in my first heat of the men's open scoring a meager 3.75 total points out of a possible 20.

in the longboard division I didn't fare much better, squeaking by the first heat with a .1 advantage to make it to the final. I felt good in the water in the longboard final. I got a wave as soon as the horn blew and caught about five or six total in the 20 minute heat. I got out of the water exhausted from paddling against the current but confident in my surfing. I was disappointed to come in fourth place when the winners were announce -I'd really hoped for a top three finish.

but then this morning I had to laugh when I saw a photo of myself trying to inch up to the nose. I look as if I'm constipated. so after a good laugh at my lack of style and form I feel like it was a great learning experience and I'm glad I did it. maybe I'll even enter the longboard division again in the fall.

I think perhaps the most important thing I learned from my first contest surfing experience is that I surf because it's fun. because I love to surf and not because I want to be better than others. so long as I have that outlook I think surfing will continue to be a positive part of my life. and for this I am stoked.


in other news check out my latest entry in Drift Magazine

the author not the writer

Where do I begin? Over the past two weeks I’ve been endlessly devouring information as is so easy to do in the interwebs. Where has it gotten me? I have no fucking idea. One aspect of my personality that never seems to go away is this feeling of always wanting to do something, always on the verge of something great. Who knows if it’s simply remnants of childhood dreams of escape or if it’s adult escapism.

In an attempt to better understand myself I always ponder about my motivation to do “something.” For a long long time now, since my early teens I reckon, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I always pictured myself as a writer, doing readings and interviews, thumbing through the pages of my own books and admiring the fonts and page layouts. But therein lays the joke which I played on myself. I mean, I could I suppose, blame the joke on my ego. That is if there were a way to separate the I from the I. But their ain’t no way. So the joke is this: all I ever dreamed about was the fame and not the written word!

Big surprise eh! What a fucking brilliant mind I have. Well it’s probably why instead of writing wholeheartedly over the past twenty years I’ve got a half a book shelf of half scribbled-in journals and notebooks with hardly a word worth reading, and I don’t mean public reading, I mean me reading. I keep luggin the goddamned journals first from town to city, then across country and finally across the continent. And for what? Inspiration, material, nostalgia? I’ll tell you why –it’s a central theme in this here blog and for most blogs I guess. It’s for ego. Simple.

I mean who doesn’t want a legacy? Who wants to be forgotten? And who doesn’t want some recognition of their humanity within their own lifetime, even while they still have some youthful vigor? I’ll let you answer that one.

So here I am. Left to my own devices I’ll continue to devour information on the interwebs which will do me absolutely no favors. It’s a tedious life this life. Lucky for me there’s more to my life than ego and misinformation. Moe and B are waiting at home for to me cook super together, play together and dream together.

uh huh

"well, well, well mister. you find yerself sittin behind a new desk, a bigger screen, a window. and a wha? a who?"

uh huh.

swells are marchin into the headland that I like best. I know it.

haven’t seen it.

bike rides in blowing snow. late to work on the first week. looks of surprise on co-workers faces. different culture.

I’m older than most and yet younger. less conservative perhaps? more active? more immature? all of the above?

dubcasts keep me sane and in the right riddim ‘n vibes.

got a a vampire story brewin in my head. but not bat vampires. more like blood drinkers –like the old time boys in Papua New Guinea who’d drink the blood of their enemies for strength. got the story marinatin in my head –post no-pocalypse type shit if you get my drift.

what else?
being a dad is rad.

need to start running again. next week on lunch breaks will do fine.

I need to feel these bones and muscles and tendons of mine movin and flexin or otherwise just give up and join the zombie crowds in zombie land.

we do live in our dreams you know. but dreams need not have concrete physical boundaries. we can live and play and dream in sleep and awake states. just ignore the rubbish, the sounds of zombies telling you how it is and should be and just do a thing.

i’m out.

mongrel dog

I was caught by self doubt. like a mongrel dog tryin to cross the road after a beating. it is an absurd world that we live in. and the self aware notice the absurdities more often than the self involved. but we are all ego one way or another. some manifest it less and some more.

what is courage?

what is determination?

what is gritt?

some like Chinaski did what they did out of a sense of duty to their own constitution –he, praising and cursing his muses depending on the severity of his hangover.

some do nothing at all. they go through motions like so much flotsam and jetsam at mid-tide on a Jamaican beach.

and where do you see yourself?

how are you living?

how am i living? with trepidation.

that is no way to live a life is it?

fear is not a hoax but it also isn’t concrete. it can be malleable like Gumby. it can be used to one’s advantage or can be crippling like ms. it is the ability to move beyond failure that is a measure of one’s success. this is the paradox of our human condition and perhaps the crux of our western belief in good vs. bad. there is no good. there is no bad. there simply just is. everything is everything. absurdities arise when we negate this basic principle.

Himes wrote of the prison preacher preachin about pork chops and mashed potatoes in paradise.

do mongrels get pork chops in the afterlife?

the reach around

been commuting to work by bike now since 2004. I wouldn't trade my ride to work for anything. although that's not to say it's not without its shitty moments. below is a diagram of perhaps the most sketchy and common situation I face riding my bike in Halifax. it's not only drivers speeding around you to make a right turn but also just to get around to make it to the red light before you do.




I tend to have different reactions to shitty driving especially when I feel like the pulse passing through my veins at an increased pace could have been my last. sometimes I just ignore it. other times the middle finger makes me feel better. gave a lady one this morning -she slammed on her brakes and zipped into the bike lane to park giving me less than a moments notice to correct.

sometimes I totally loose it. a few weeks ago I almost got licked by a young woman driving a purple Ford Ranger extended cab. I caught up with her at the next light and pulled up to her window which was halfway down. she was still texting away on her phone. I gave her a few choice words that my Mama would not be proud of. she wasn't expecting me and that's the point.

sometimes loosing it has its negative side. one time in Portland, Oregon I was cruising home from work on my fix when an oncoming car swerved way into my lane to get around a car parked in his lane on a residential street in a NE neighborhood. I gave him the finger and loud "fuck off.!!!" homeboy slammed on the brakes, u-turned and came after me. lucky for my I dipped down a dead-end, one-way that I could sneak across the grass and make my way down to MLK. I lost the guy. he may have kicked my ass.

more recently a guy on a sport bike got pissed cause I dipped around him at the light. I'm on a bike man. he caught me at the next light and offered to kick my ass the next time I did that to him. in a moment of adrenaline filled bravado I told him "lets go." the light turned and he twisted his throttle like it was something I should admire and was off.

I love how the power of the gas pedal and the combustion engine gives people a sense of power, no matter how meek and weak they are when they are just flesh and bone, sans machine.

lots of people that I've met over the years who were regular bike commuters got licked down by a car at one point or another. my friend Drew from DC took two massive beatings. luckily he still rode his bike and wasn't too jaded.

hard for me not to be a little uppity about riding my bike to work. it takes effort and I have to endure some shitty weather sometimes. but it is also amazing to feel the blood pumping through my veins halfway through my morning commute, sleep still heavy on my eyelids. and it's great to speed home and bank turns after work.

and no I don't have a DUI. I choose to ride my bike.

if you cut me off and I give you the finger or worse it's because I take it personal.

consumer culture consumer

I went out in the rain today to get the latest issue of Surfer magazine. The issue has Joel Tuddor sitting in as a guest editor and two of his subjects are people that interest me – Richard Kenvin and Tyler Warren. I get home and sit on the couch to read as B lays quietly watching the TV, her biggest ever belly moving with the little one inside, restless as ever and just two weeks shy of first light.

I read Tuddor’s introduction. He tries to be everyman but really wants us to think he’s an intellectual. “It’s OK,” I think to myself thinking of him thinking of himself. Then I read the short interview with Lewis Samuels – a man of deep intellect with a keen understanding of modern anthropology who also happens to be a wiseass who also happens to surf. “That’s better” I think but would have rather seen a little more space devoted to the witty one. Then I finally get to the RK piece. I start to read and it’s moving fast, one word after another is scanned into my reasoning centre and it seems as if nothing registers. I vow to take a brake from the article to return when I’m more prepared. Finally I get to the Tyler Warren piece. It’s short, shy and he seems humble -the kid has style to burn. I flip through the rest of the magazine and wonder “why?”

In late summer of 1987 we packed up some of our shit and traveled from rural Isnotu, in the foothills of the Andes Mountains in Venezuela, to rural central Florida where we’d settle down to live in conservative Bartow. I was immediately drawn to skateboarding. That year would be the beginning of my new life as a consumer culture consumer.

It’s hard to say why I feel compelled to read the surf magazines and follow the surf blogs. Perhaps I want to see where I fit in, to see what lineage or legacy I’ve descended from. But I won’t find one as I come from the consumer lineage, brought into the “culture” by slick magazines and sometimes-good writing. Thrasher magazine was a staple in the late 80’s and 90’s. Thrasher sucks now, or I’m just not a teenager any more who knows.

Surfing is definitely without a doubt one of the more important aspects of my life. But like many other things surfing can be simple or full of trinkets. My childhood Catholicism came replete with its statues of saints and special rosaries and candles and church clothes. Home ownership has it’s own TV shows and magazines and clubs and self help groups and messiahs of decorating. Entrepreneurship has a zillion trinkets and books and gurus. Anything and everything can be overdone and consumed 'till we’re fat and diabetic and dying.

Or things can be simple.

Most likely I will continue to consume surf culture. There’s lots of good shit out there, especially in the blogosphere. There’s RK and RT. Somewhere else there’s Doc and Mic and Sways. But I’m not Californian. I don’t see California as my Jerusalem. Its toe headed children and surf “icons” are but silhouettes on the pages of magazines crammed with advertisements for trousers and t-shirts. I’m sure that somewhere along the line I owe something to those early pioneers of surfing. But that something is so abstract, so inconsequential, and so diluted by its own commercialization that I’m probably better off making my own way, starting from scratch. Good job Joel. You’ve reminded me to look within and that I am what I do and not what I consume.

brion and bill...

...dreamed a machine to transcend the threshold where their drug addled analytics end and something else all together begins. today these two would be considered terrorists to be profiled and watched. bill talked often of his recipes for homemade botulism and other weapons of mass terror. and why? who knows. bill was a trust fund kid. perhaps they had too much. bill didn't only outlive his peers, he hurried them to their deaths with debauched pleasure, his own Constitution superhuman in its ability to stay high for nine decades. dream machine is all that's left. and iggy pop.

weak heart

my friend Evil E was going through some old photos and found these of me -I think they are from fall/winter of 2007. the board was a Tom Neilson 6'6" biofoam thruster. I got rid of it soon after that as it was a bit too big for me.

I'd like to think I've improved my surfing since these shots were taken but who knows.

self critique: the bottom turn mid-face and standing almost straight up is weak hearted at best. I also won't have any speed going into the top turn. it's funny though I have the Andy Downs front hand stylee. I'll have to tell that story another time though.



the same weak heart goes for the top turn here. it looks as if I backed off instead of really pushing off the top.



this is my favourite shot because you can see how beautiful it is here. sure the water at this time of year is O C. and the air often way bellow that. but the beauty of the landscapes and the generous people are like no where else I've ever lived. thanks Evil!

Open Letter to America: on sloth and gluttony

Dear fellow Americans,

I am writing in the hopes that my words will perhaps trigger a slight sense of self preservation within your psyche as well as release within you the once famous American pragmatism that created the nation. You must be aware that there are two major issues plaguing our long term well being; two issues that are really quite embarrassing when you think about it and yet not so inordinate in many a literary tale about human failure. I am talking about gluttony and sloth.

First of all I'll address the current state of the educational system. We are failing our youth with the current educational system, and for those who finish high school and choose to pursue a higher education the price to pay is more often than not grotesque. Now I am not a specialist in education nor do I have an answer as to how to fix the problem (I'm sure there are plenty of people who could do that). However, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that an undereducated population will not be economically successful. And at this time in our great country people are our greatest assets. So if you think a little ahead you may note that there may be a looming disaster in the making.

The other issue which is obvious to any foreigner landing on our great shores for the first time is the state of our health. Our gluttony and sloth has created a ticking time bomb of ill health. Some studies state that over 64% of the population is over weight or obese. Don’t get me wrong here; I am not talking about matters of self image or narcissism. I am referring to the basic need for a living organism to maintain a balanced health system in order to function properly and avoid disease. This is not some esoteric idea. What we consume defines our makeup, just as we are defined by how we spend our time. If we spend our time sitting then our bodies are not able to run. Simple. If we consume unhealthy foods and too much of them then our bodies will be unhealthy and big.

This is really not a matter of ethics or religion or even politics. It is a matter of economics and self preservation. Imagine if you will 20 years from now –70% of the population suffering from preventable diseases like diabetes and heart disease because they wouldn’t eat healthy. Imagine an entire nation of under educated people, to unhealthy to be productive in the labor force and too illiterate to be productive in technology and finance. What would such a nation look like? How will the books balance? Who will take care of you?

I merely pose the problem. It is up to all to individually and collectively tackle the issues. Sure government can create policies, etc. But ultimately each individual has the major stake in their own well being. What will you do?

Sincerely

Ricardo

bike polo, nike and tommy hillfiger

the other day I was taking a stroll and passed by the road hockey/basketball courts next to the fire station in the north end where a small group of BMI challenged hipsters were clumsily trying to play bike polo. when a trend hits the eastern most coast of north America we can safely assume that it's hit a critical mass and will be soon co-opted by the giant clothing franchises and whatnots.

nothing against tight pants and people who spend a majority of their time planning their eccentric outer appearances to look as if they weren't even trying to look that way only to sneer at their fellow city dwellers with scorn and hubris. but really, at some point someone's gotta call bullshit.

I'm not calling bullshit on the game of bike polo -in fact if I ever felt inclined to participate in a team sport, competition is not one of my strengths, I would consider bike polo. but would I wear a hipster uniform and starve myself to look a certain way on the court? probably not.

the Halifax hipster scene is in full swing now -even though often the north end hipsters are unidentifiable from the south end college crowd purchased their look at the mall.

I know this is sounding like a rant by some middle aged guy feeling bitter about getting older. sure.

but remember one thing you radical hipsters -actually more than one thing so I'll bullet:

-if yer gonna ride fixed with no front brake then at least clip in to your pedals somehow cause otherwise your gonna get bucked like a drunken cowboy at an underground hipster rodeo

-raise the seat on your bike and not only will you look more "stylish" without trying but your bike will also be more efficient and fun to ride

-riding a fixie doesn't make your 'core' score go up. who gives a shit if your riding a fixed wheel. every toddler on a tricycle is riding fixed and they don't front

-a bike is a bike.

-there's only one Gonz

"if you're gonna do a nose wheelie, fuckin do a nose wheelie bro."




-

in the face of drink and smoke I run

these are no longer disthymic times. the clouds have lifted and with them the figurative fog has given way to sunshine. a cold northeast wind still blows and the ocean is lake calm with lucky low tide sandbar sessions here and there but mostly smooth silky surfaces on the horizon. is it spring or strain of will that lifts the greys to lighter hues? I can’t say but one thing is certain, one step in front of the other gets me somewheres.

each day I try and try to remember. eleven years ago I asked skinny Rob to stop his Santeria for a moment and use his tattoo machine to etch a simple statement on my calf. “will transcends fear” I said to him proudly, displaying a mix of symbols, some as old as three thousand years. what did I know about transcendence and wills and waning idealism's in the face of drink and smoke so thick that for years I would not escape the fog?

what do I know now? nothing more than there is only one step in front of the other. legacy? that’s for sculptors or perhaps scientists. written words are no longer a path to remembrance for futures. written words are like so much dirt, so many opinions loosed upon us with disregard for thought or person or creed or even crude human decency. Burroughs knew it in his drug addled middle years as he led his ragged troop of beats into oblivion and shitty parenting –unwittingly (or perhaps not so much) outliving them all by decades.

surf? it is transcendental but we can’t write about that now can we. oh no. if you’re not producing you ain’t shit mister. “sit down and shut up.”

I grabbed a number ticket from the red dispenser and sat in the stale waiting room. H1N1 signs and sanitizing stations every 12 inches like sentries. who are the swine anyway? is it not we who are ruining it for we?

“again sir I will not ask you again. sit down and shut up.”

so now I run. at first from fear and, lookin behind my shoulder knee jerk reactions, left over from those early sleepless nights in Isnotu. could I blame it on my Tia? she took me at a tender age to see the old soothsayer in his dark dank home to see if he’d cure me through shitless scare tactics out of sucking my thumb again. after the celebration with the superman piñata I slept less and less until 13 years after she didn’t come that night I lost it completely and then it got foggy.

surf? not to be underestimated in terms of power to reconnect those synapses loosed from the ether. like it or not we are beasts with intrinsic needs. we can philosophise our ways out of thinking we’re not needy but sooner or later the thin veneer that is our vanity vanishes and then what?

I run. for ego and self image and I can’t say it’s not a draw. I run from what I would be doing otherwise. sloth or time wasting.

I said it before and I dare say it again. I have these muscles and tendons and bones. and well honed they can move me through space with the grace and fluidity of any wild animal. fail for just one day to use them and I forgo the greatest gift I’ve been given. the gift of self propulsion. some praise our ability to think. but how amazing is it to ride the swells upon the ocean and then forget?

I run to surf.

surf? because you can.

whys and how comes

I never said I wasn’t doin it anymore. just that I wouldn’t be doin it as much. because doing mostly happens on my feet, outside, away from these keys. in the interim since the last post I’ve received a small heap of whys and how comes and yer kinddin’s and assorted other whatnots. there have also been a healthy number of encouraging and complimentary cues from friends in flesh and virtual too. thank you all.

today is Canada day and we have a day off of work. I’ve been working, however lightly and haphazardly, since before seven am on various virtual projects. the irony of this keyboard for me is that somehow I’ve learned to use it and the inteweb in ways that some find useful. so it is that I spend so many hours sitting in a Western pose developing a weak core and perhaps other less than glamorous ailments. so to balance this life I get up at four in morn to surf small kine waves and arrive at work tired as a dog but clear of mind. things don’t make sense but the experiences that I remember are the hardest ones to come by. now I have to go for a run.

read the Esteyonage today it good for you.

putting an end to the fuckery

A one surf week is ended with the usual blog roll and interwebs fuckery that is a morning at work. Recently the word fuckery has been used profusely by Lewis Samuels in Post Surf. Not sure where he got it from. I heard the word used often in Jamaica as in “ gwaan man -yuh a fuckery” or maybe in reference to political news on the radio you would hear someone say “a fuckery dat man” or when a rum head came beggin around the shop for a drink old P would yell “come outta ere with yuh fuckery man! Guh wey!”

For a cynical mind like mine fucekry is the perfect looking glass for deciphering the cipher. In my waning interest to keep talking about how my latest surf session went (it’s just a bunch of fuckery anyway) I wonder if it’s even worthwhile to continue Ku Yah all together. I can see the hits decline as the surfy posts subside. Of course initially Ku Yah was an exercise in writing –to learn to write. Indeed I did learn to write –if only in short ADHD spurts and mostly about fuckery so only time will tell if that particular skill will come in handy some day.

I’ve asked myself why I read other people’s blogs. Is it the grass is always greener rubber neck ego trip in my head that makes me do it? There is so much content on the interwebs and a lot of it rehashing of itself. Do I want to add to that fuckery too? Some folks I reckon actually use the interwebs for personal expansion and growth. And relationships of value can occasionally spring from the virtual black hole. But mostly it’s a waste of time.

If we are to consider our assets in life, and I don’t mean capital assets, what do we have? We have our health, our intellect, our ability to forgive and love (because that’s how you get forgiven and loved), and time. Time is as valuable resource and like trees or fish it’s a finite non-renewable resource. And god do I ever know how to squander it with fuckery.

Over the past five weeks I’ve been trying to develop a running practice. “Here he goes again with some fuckery” you say. Well perhaps. Certain incidences have inspired me to run; one being the coming of a little one and the practicality of running as a way of maintaining basic fitness. But there are other effects to a running practice like meditative moments, transcending discomfort and pain, learning self discipline, developing will power, experiencing the weather and its moods, expelling toxins out of my body via sweat, strengthening my heart, lungs, bones, muscles, relieving stress –all without spending any dough or fossil fuel. Running is simple and pure.

We evolved to run certainly for escaping danger as much as for pursuing prey. Our modern lives of sedentary livelihoods have all but eliminated running from our lives. So much so that running is seen as a fringe activity, something that body conscious people do. But it is as natural as breathing or taste.

In short I may not write much here anymore. Instead I will focus on action. On using my muscles and tendons to move through space –whether it be splitting lanes on the cruiser or surfing or running. I will read books. Something I’ve neglected for some time. I will cook and finish some creative projects that have been marinating in the basement or in my brain. If you’ve read this far I’d like to say thanks. Thanks for stopping in often and for your occasional commentary. If you want to be in touch feel free to send me a note at rasblog at gmail.

cheers

ras

respite

there's nothing to report. last week I joined Facebook. then I closed it. I learned what's inside Facebook -wasn't missing anything. I ran a lot last week and went for a fun trail spin with JB and buddy Michael. muddy trails and fun descents. one gear and springy front end. new content? original content| that's what should be here. no surf. flat. a nice reprieve from humdrum of surf surf surf everyday surf. what board do I ride, do I need? can I ride that? will it float me? run to trim the fat and make the thin sled fit the form. then flat. no waves for even logs. so run and ride the single track. lady slippers and new ferns. greens everywhere. after the rains, puddles of mud. pull up the front wheel and let the back one dip into the brown thick mix of post winter soil. run some more. one foot in front of the other. focus on three inches below my centre. focus on even breath and smooth form. focus on what feels natural. intentionally bring one foot forward even with hip to keep up with forward pulling gravity. in the evening? single malt, three cubes of ice and soda water. or one or two pulls. track the mileage and time. make tea and dream and start again. it's flat. no surf. this thing is running its course. it too may need a respite.

Rashoman

Rashoman is probably one of the best films in terms of examining the human condition and our inhumanity. Janus Films has just remastered it and apparently it's going to be making the rounds in theaters. For those of you in SF and NYC please take advantage as I very much doubt we'll get the pleasure here in Halifax. Kurosawa is by far my favourite film director (I'm not much of a film buff) and Toshiro Mifune never disappoints.

stop

things are supposed to die -to come to a natural end.

we do.

yet we strive for some sort of legacy that we may be remembered.

old Chinaski had it right. it's a wonder how long people will wanna read about his gamblin and whorin and drinkin and fightin. about dingy LA and other failed writers and about his cars and listening to classical music on the radio while drinking beer wine whisky.

all things are naturally meant to come to an end, to fulfill the cycle of energy moving across our earths surface and through its guts, moving always and endlessly.

humans?

we like to prolong the inevitable. we like pretend like we can stop change. like we's some sorta power above the antelope when in truth modern man can't even chase the antelope.

these are the good old days no?

this dribbly rubbish inspired partly by Juana's Addicion

sons of slaves

as times change and one generation's seeming demise shifts into the next generations pop culture emblems one thing remains constant. humanity is not humanist. humanism is nothing but a construct of our romantic ideals of peace and love. humans are in fact animals (duh)who live by the basic code of survival using intrinsic instinct. where's the hope? self reliance. it is our nature.


classic Junior Delgado tune with Lee Perry production

bike ninja vs. mr. perfect bicycle commuter man

over the last few weeks there's been an increase in bike commuters on my daily route. it's expected in spring just as there are more surfers in the water. there's one guy in particular, a middle-aged man astride a shiny new sporty street bike with flat bar and disk brakes, one of those homogeneous jobbies from one the big three bike companies. anyways, today he called me out for my swiftness at charging the yellow. I could hear him behind me, scolding in "that is ridiculous" kinda tone.

so what did I say? nothing. I just sped off on my merry way as I do every day. been communing to work by bike since 2005 when we lived in PDX. my friend Drew in PDX, originally from D.C., had always commuted and had been hit by cars twice -neither time his fault and accidents quite serious. Drew never followed the "traffic laws" on his bike.

let's face it. laws that state that cyclist should obey the same rules as motor vehicles are absurd. cyclists cannot accelerate like a motored metal box therefore they can be overrun, especially on narrow streets. a bicycle weighs nothing compared to even a small car or motorcycle so accidents caused by cyclists tend to cause little harm. and most obvious of all a bike is NOT a motor vehicle and should not be treated as such.

I know if I'm self righteous. why else have a blog? but I also value self preservation, especially in a city like Halifax where the driving public hates cyclists. so the new commuter on his shiny bike can kiss my ass, I'd rather be a bike ninja than a cripple.

happiness is love

some time during my mid twenties I realized that the quality of my life was based on the personal relationships I had with my family and friends. it was evident then as it is now that as a social being, my ability to give and receive respect and love and to share ideas was what gave me a sense of fulfillment.

these guys at Harvard took 72 years to figure this out but I guess any time is a good time. this is a great video if you have six minutes.

spring and the joy of crowds

was in the water by 6:30 on Saturday morning. would've been there earlier had I not checked some spots for which my hopes had been too high considering the tide and receding swell. there were two kids walking down along the path to the point when I was suiting up. normally I make the paddle through the bay to warm up as it were but I chose to pick my way along the rocks instead with the high tide lapping my feet. out at the point there was some morning sickness and all around weakness. the lefts coming off the point were short but steeper and probably a little bigger since they were heading right into the headland over the shallow weed covered rocks. after an hour of grovelling and small kine turns I thought the better of it and headed in.

the lot was almost full and scores were suiting up. I said hello to a couple of friends and made my way to the blue flame to take off my wetsuit. as I looked out over the boardwalk I could see a little left reeling off some secret sandbar and crashing right on the dry cobbles. I figured I'd give it a try since it was still only 8 am and damn it looked rideable. stepping out through the impact section reminded me of Spanish House or Wabasso -with a heavy wall coming fast and impacting on the shore. after that though the paddle out was minimal. I picked off the first one and popped up and just pumped and raced down the line as the waist high take off turned into a chest high vertical wall. the quad held like it does and each little pump coaxed more speed out of her. (I should give her a name fitting of her prowess.) finally I kicked out over the closeout before I was deposited on dry cobblestones. a guy watching from the stairs say my first wave, ran back to get his board and sat right on top of me the whole time. "this is beach break" I thought as I tried to push him a little deeper each time knowing that he wouldn't make the drop. didn't hamper too much to have him there and he took a few on the head and eventually went in. after a few more the tide filled in and the left became a closeout. should've been here an hour ago.

Saturday was the warmest day since last September signaling the end of winters grip. I have now completed three years of winter surfing here in NS. my shoulders and back have gained paddle stamina. my wave sense is as good now as it was in 2001 when I lived in Kona and surfed Pine Trees each evening after work. most importantly though my confidence has improved which sometimes can make the difference on a late take off. I'm as stoked on surfing now at 33 as I was when I was 17.

each spring it's become increasingly crowded in the lineup -even on early mornings during the week. it's easily noticeable here because mostly we have points and reefs, waves which tend to have a maximum carrying capacity. I must admit that I underestimated the surfing population before I came. but there has been a core surf community here for a long long time and they especially must be feeling the pressure of the increased crowds.

I was thinking about how to feel about crowded surf since it's been a long time since I've experienced it. there's really two ways to look at it. I can allow myself to get salty and jaded about a bunch of beginners letting go of their boards in the lineup or I can transcend it, focus on the horizon and work on improving my surfing. I learned how to surf in Brevard County on the shores between Cocoa Beach and Melbourne Beach. It wasn't uncommon to be in the water with fifty plus surfers, many who could surf better than I ever will. when crowds are all you know it's not a bother. so as look forward to riding my 9'6" at the reef or my quad at the beach break I have to remind myself that the original heads should get priority and that my outlook on the situation can make my surfing life fulfilling or less than half-empty. as always I got to give thanks for this life of riding swells upon the sea.

now I'm off to work.

had to steal this one from Crooked Arm as it's perfect for today's thoughts.