RIP: Guru

Jazzmatazz was how I knew Guru. he died of cancer on April 19th. he left behind a hella body of music.

style: john haffey

Peta

I got Peta from a no-kill dog shelter in Orlando in 1999. she's rambunctious and a pain in the ass sometimes but she's a good dog. B took this photo of Peta today. you can click on it for a larger view.

I let go

radness from Oldy

Critical Sliders from Nathan Oldfield on Vimeo.

on jazz

recently I've been delving a little deeper into jazz than usual thanks to Drift editor Joe Conway putting me on to do a jazz inspired blog for the magazine. funny how one things leads to another and connections apear out of the ether when you least expect it.

my good friend Snake and I have been talking about jazz and his experience is quite broader than mine. Snake just turned me on to saxophonist Pharoah Sanders. I feel like I need to take some time aside to get into his stuff -to listen carefully and see what I can hear. for some reason I tend to like the stuff that's a bit harder to listen too. not sure why -perhaps it's some sort of idea that non-conformity is cool. I'm brain washed by the American individualism.

or maybe I'm just learning to be patient.

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

watchin wind blow out my window

sittin on a saturday wonderin what to do while Moe sleeps wrapped and swaddled like a banana. MF Doom rocks the computer speakers and outside the tree tops blow with the gusty south west wind -still naked . waves should be building. buoy is up to three meters at eight seconds. there should be a hamster wheel at a point a I know. walk to the top and get in. paddle, paddle, paddle against the current. snag one and milk it around the sections. get out. do over.  meanwhile Doom sings bada boom bada bing. the rats scurry under the sewer traps and the seaguls wait for summer for lotsa tourist scraps. some people do and some don't. the watchers are sitting at their screens right now.

just

like  me.

Doom and Sade move the next track through a double. why you've come this far I wonder? so I keep it going. remember that time when we went drinkin and ridin? you T -I'm talkin to you. don't remember what time it was. we were no-handin it down in china town and your front wheel turned and you went down like me on ice skates on winter ponds. then there was that other time -you ran into the back of that parked car and split your lip laughin through bloody teeth before we hit the next bar, bikes hung and locked on the fence to keep 'em off the sidewalk.

we used to drink heaps. "I'll get the next one" I'd say time and time again. and we'd talk about a whole heap of rubbish like some 20 somethins goin nowhere's fast. remember them days there? remember ten years earlier takin the door off your white vdub van so we could stick your motor bike part way in. power band kicked in 2nd gear and I'd almost get snatched right off the back. you'd be blastin the jumps with sneakers and shorts -no shirt no helmet. I was throwin down frontside slappys on the long yellow curb at the bank drive-through in downtown Bartow. the town was dead and dying. I was ready to exit but it would be a while still before I saw somthin new.

random shit

the other day chillin at the shop with JB he says to me "man how come you never reply when I comment on your shit?"

I says to him "I dunno."

then he says "your shit is so serious on the blog but when you come in here it's nothin but jokes."

an I says, "I'm really happy for you, 'n Imma let you finish.. but breakin down the absurd is some serious business -most serious of all time. all TIME!"

so then I get to thinking about other shit that has nothin to do with the above shit and I remember this dude I surfed with a few times in Oregon. I'll call him X -si me entiendes. X was from Puerto Vallarta and surfed better standing than me and you combined. prolly the reason we clicked was speaking spanish. X was punk, an I don't mean mall punk. straight edge too.

X chose to ride a body board cause he thought stand up surf culture was whack. and in many ways I agree. I lost track of the elusive X but a quick search found him shredding Rockaway barrells upon his prone time travel vehicle. I reckon there's no better place for someone like mister X than Gotham city.

and thanks to Pete for sendin me a link the best record I've had inna while. download it for free. just go to your favourite search engine and type Mos Dub.

if you are in Canada -the new SBC Surf magazine should be hitting news stands soon. check for an editorial by your serious business blogger man. seen.

sitting, striking keys while the harbour dies

cold wind seeps

under slitted wood window

I sit at the keyboard dreaming

about this and that

rather than work as I’m

supposed to

I see my bike through

the wooden slitted window seeping wind

she waits alone locked up

soon I’ll be free again

to fly through city streets feigning

flight of gulls over the harbour

dirty harbour, whose

mouth has been made to swallow

manmade detritus for two hundred years

who keeps her mouth open

for more abuse until she dies

I sit here

at this keyboard

typing short lines

three to four words

six max

for the sake of hearing keys

sink to their bottoms

for the sake of not doing

what I’m supposed to

while the harbour swallows rain runoff

oil, soap, cleaning agents

make their way

with floating cigarette butts and

foam peanuts

through sewers

bypassing befuddled broken processing plants

oil and toxicity flow into her

while city politicos sit sideways

lunching along her flanks

feasting on lobster caught just outside

their eateries resting

right above the sewer traps

where rats drown

I sit at this keyboard

striking, looking up occasionally

wondering why you’ve come this far

wondering why I dream

of this and that

rather than produce, produce, produce

the harbour? she sits there calm

mouth open through calamity

not a silent scream or whimper

‘till something else

changes

what was previously unchanged

big wednesday

woke up to a rose coloured sky as the sun tried to peak it's big eye over the eastern shore. now, an hour after sunrise the skies are gray and fat with springs rain. no matter at all. it's the cycle. there are other ways to get brightness into my life.

a flash smile from Moe -his two little bottom teeth peering out from his bottom jaw; B's hand falling onto my shoulder in deep sleep; Peta stretching into her downward dog when she sees me get up to shower; a bike ride into work picking a a clean line through the traffic and potholed city streets -all good things on a Wednesday morning.

and a little curtis mayfield dedicated to my brejren D$

sunny days

it's a beautiful morning in Halifax. we arrived home from our trip to New York city yesterday to find our garden sprouting with springs firsts. so I've had my coffee and getting ready to head in to work on my bike.

my friend Picasso who's been out the back somewhere in Indonesia for the past three months sent a quote from Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil. my favourite version of that song was done by Janes Addicition. you can listen to it here.

all of this got me thinking. it's now innit? you've got to do what you've been wanting to do now. live now. why wait? wait for what?

here's my latest entry at Drift

hurtin in NYC

big rouge sets coming through last night. the fog was so thick that you'd barely see them out there till it was too late to try and out paddle them.

I rode a few waves but not many. it seemed like for the first time I was pushing the limits of my 5'8" fishy. not enough rail for the amount of water moving.

I tried going late on one that swung wide. I never had a chance. the rip moving along the rocky headland was powerful and relentless.

I was way out front when I went on the wide one, within two minutes I'd been dragged and dunked all the way into the bay, gasping for air between exhausted duck dives.

this morning I feel sore and tired. my shoulders are sore to the touch and my energy levels below normal. a good sore and tired though -no matter the conditions, surfing is always thoroughly satisfying -thank you very much.

the buoy reading at 6pm yesterday was 11.5' @ 13 seconds. wind ENE 11 kts gusting to 15. water temp 35.6 F.

off to New York City this afternoon. the little bruiser will get to see his aunt in her element. and B and I will enjoy some Mexican food, heavenly pizza slices, and urban absurdity.

beware

music sometimes can be used for protest. inna Jamaica that is often the case. for some reason, outside of Jamaica reggae is seen as party music. when in fact, the music is often calling for justice and peace.

police brutality is appalling in Jamaica. from Amnesty's website:

Police abuse has been documented by national and international organisations numerous times in the past 30 years. In 1986, an Americas Watch report, Human Rights in Jamaica, concluded that there existed in Jamaica: "a practice of summary executions by the police; a practice of unlawful detentions by the police at times accompanied by police assaults on detainees; and a practice of confining detainees in police station lock-ups under squalid and degrading conditions."

of course the unemplyed youth have also taken up violence as a way of living. here Tarrus Riley warns people to "beware" of the "youths dem an cops."




more reggae on my reggae blog: duppyrundem.blogspot.com

welcome

a wave-less weekend
spent with mother and son
building
veneering
laughing
napping

restlessness got the better
of me
so off on the bike
I went
Sunday city streets
have different faces
but the potholes
all
still there

monday morning rush
off to work
to edit
proof
politic

waves

are

always

welcome

One Day

wish I had something clever to say today. or maybe tell you that I went surfing before work and rode choppy waist high waves alone in the morning fog. but it wouldn’t be true at all.

I woke at 6:48. rode my bike to work in the steady rain, avoiding rooster tails coming off rear tires of every car that passed me too close for comfort. I sat at my desk and clicked, dragged, typed and backspaced. I ate lunch at my desk, trying not to splash food on the papers strewn here and everywhere.

now I’ll strain another cup of dark roast and add one spoon of sugar. I’ll sip it as I click, drag, type and backspace until it’s time to ride home again in the rain, avoiding rooster tails coming off rear tires of every car that passes so close I can touch it with my elbow.

lucky for me that B and Moe are waiting for me with open arms. lucky for me that music has been by my side all day. Chet Baker, Wolf Parade, Lawrence Arabia, The Supremes, Earth Wind & Fire, and Empire of the Sun kept the vibes irie and cool.

stop the machine