team playas
superfly®
need a break. all work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
late last night I synced my internal clock with the tides
and knew when it was time to make that decision to drive to
the coast. I think it's important that all your shit is
wired tight at all times. if you can't throw your surf
stuff together in 5 minutes, your priorities are all messed
up. 10 minutes for sleeping under the stars. 8 minutes
later I'm on the road. time to grab a spro even. I guess it
depends on your comfort level also. if you need a propane
stove and a matching set of outdoor china and a cooler
loaded with shitty beer and 30 assorted condiments for your
fucked up hotdogs and shit, well you ain't ridin w/me
unless you got long hair, wear lipstick and a bra (btw,
foon this doesn't include you).
I didn't expect much so I brought the longboard. pulled
into I beach and it was like 2-3 ft, but glassy and lined
up. I suited up and took the leash off and headed into a
pack of kooks. first wave I had to call off 2 losers and
was left alone after that. had to swim 20 meters one time
but that was it. worked on the footwork and board control.
this longboarding shit is growing on me as much as I hate
to admit it. not that it's going to digress any further
than this, mind you, but it did bring some interest to the
table on a small day like this w/o the leash.
post surf I found a fire tended by some snowboarders and
checked out their menu for the evening. wasn't up to my
standards so it was time to move on to the rez and see if I
could buy some smoked fish. got the 411 on stamps. they
were partyin down the block so I snuck up on him in the
dark. just hung out on the edge of the fire until he
recognized me. I told him about his new found success on
the internet and he told me "there was never any doubt". as
the night wore on though, I started to have second thoughts
about any sequels...
we went into forks and drank some beer at the local tavern.
there were royalties and schedules to iron out. scripts,
new angles, web sites, chix and casting couches to
consider. but after a shared six pack, my worst fears had
been confirmed. stamps was now living in a house. he was
eating solid food. he had lost his edge totally. no more
sleeping on the beach in "camp stamps". no more half rack
pillows and drunken shiver fests with no blanky. no more
"shakes" and to top it off, he announced that his skating
career was over. no more "scabs". I slammed down 3 more
irish beers and purchased the same amount of mexican beers
for stamps as I let this sink in... he hates it hen I buy
him mexican beer but he undeniably got the msg.
I knew it would be futile to voice my opinion. it would
only serve to strengthen his position. so I decided to go
the other way. I came out in full support of his new
lifestyle. of course I told him we would have to find a new
"leading man" and "stunt skater" for the skating parts. and
I also told him that I would tell the blonde yuppie
groupies in san diego that he was no longer in the core
production team and that I would personally answer any
inquiries concerning him. I could tell that this got his
wheels spinnin. about this time, I noticed some loggers
eyeing us across the dark smoky room. I was sporting a
beard and stamps smelled like a boat load of coho guts so I
didn't think it was an amorous stare.
foosball. these guys wanted another piece of me.
ummmmmmmmmm... purfect timing. I play foosball and drive
automobiles better after the 6th beer. the first game we
skunked them. 7/zip. I played the front row and everything
I touched was golden. chained lightening. one of those
nights. time to lay it on thick. the second game I held
back a little so as not to discourage the hosts. the bar
proprietor was one of the adversaries and he always treats
us right. always leave them coming back for more. about 8
beers and I slipped a little ;-) I mentioned to stamps that
I thought we were a good team and that I would hate for a
good thing to end. I also beckoned him closer and told him
I had a confession to make... I told him that "I was 7000
years old" and that "he didn't need to wear his seatbelt
when he was riding with me..." while holding my bare hand
over the flame of a candle.
this seemed to put him at ease.
fuck that hurt.
Corbeau Freux
<superfly@the_ghetto.com> wrote:
>snip
>
>I didn't expect much so I brought the longboard. pulled
>
>into I beach and it was like 2-3 ft, but glassy and lined
>
>up. I suited up and took the leash off and headed into a
>
>pack of kooks. first wave I had to call off 2 losers and
>
>was left alone after that. had to swim 20 meters one time
>
>but that was it. worked on the footwork and board control.
>
>this longboarding shit is growing on me as much as I hate
>
>to admit it. not that it's going to digress any further
>
>than this, mind you, but it did bring some interest to the
>
>table on a small day like this w/o the leash.
>
>
Exactly the same at Kookport, 2-3' and glassy Sat AM with the odd
shoulder high outside set. Longboards were de rigeur and about 25
guys clustered around one peak right off the bathrooms. I was with
the S/O so moved closer to the Jetty where it was maybe a bit smaller
but cleaner. It was a perfect setup for her. She caught a bunch of
waves and even managed a bottom turn once. I caught as many as I
wanted and tried to get a foot out on the nose once. This gave the
inner kook a chance to burst forth and I was promptly pitched ass over
head.
Paddled out again on Sat dusk for more of the same to work up an
appetite. No propane stove (actually there is in the camper) but
steaks and corn cooked over a driftwood fire along with a '95 Ridge
Lytton Springs.
Up at 5:30 Sunday AM for a DP in spite of the 8 Kanadian Kollege Kids
camping next to us. Just as smaller (maybe smaller) than the day
before but with some onshore junk and no glass. Decided to skip it
and go for some coffinated caffeine and back to the city.
We thought about heading over to I-Beach but they were having the
International Chainsaw Sculpture Festival at Westport. I just
couldn't pass up that kind of opportunity. We checked it out between
sessions on Sat. Amazing, amazing stuff only to be seen in Westport,
WA. Pics to follow (Chainsaw Culture, not 2' waves) as soon as I
develop the film and scan.
Tentative plans are being laid for I Beach Friday/Sat weather & swell
depending.
CF
Neal Miyake
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF8&oe=UTF8&selm=554a8.16615%2
4dx6.4079346%40twister.socal.rr.com
sponge
Neal Miyake
> this longboarding shit is growing on me as much as I hate
>
> to admit it. not that it's going to digress any further
>
> than this, mind you, but it did bring some interest to the
>
Yup. And in a few years, you'll be saying the same thing about getting into
bodyboarding. Check this out:
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF8&selm=6mu011%241jg
%40enews2.newsguy.com
sponge (lmao)
T. Yuben
"superfly®" <superfly@the_ghetto.com> wrote in message
rodNDtube
> After slamming in a cedar deck for most of day, I decided I
>
> need a break. all work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
>
> late last night I synced my internal clock with the tides
>
> and knew when it was time to make that decision to drive to
>
> the coast. I think it's important that all your shit is
>
> wired tight at all times. if you can't throw your surf
>
> stuff together in 5 minutes, your priorities are all messed
>
> up. 10 minutes for sleeping under the stars. 8 minutes
>
> later I'm on the road. time to grab a spro even. I guess it
>
> depends on your comfort level also. if you need a propane
>
> stove and a matching set of outdoor china and a cooler
>
> loaded with shitty beer and 30 assorted condiments for your
>
> fucked up hotdogs and shit, well you ain't ridin w/me
>
> unless you got long hair, wear lipstick and a bra
Had to stop right here... setting standards such as "a bra" seemed so
out of character that if I read on you'd probably talk about taking up
longboarding next and give up on good, dark beer.
Rod Rodgers
eMail: rrod...@bcpl.net
Homepage: http://www.rodNDtube.com/
GuidoPalooza: http://www.rodndtube.com/gp/guidopalooza.html
Foon
>After slamming in a cedar deck for most of day, I decided I
>
>need a break. all work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
Alright, the double spacing is ok for your editor's draft but Goddamn it BOY
when you bring your finished product to the table you'd oughta show up with
something that doesn't look like "my first assignment in Creative Writing 101"
And your name is not Jack.
<snip and snooze- pondering the necro-esque quality of the Sparky/Stamps
relationship.>
>If you need a propane
>stove and a matching set of outdoor china and a cooler
>loaded with shitty beer and 30 assorted condiments for your
>fucked up hotdogs and shit, well you ain't ridin w/me
>unless you got long hair, wear lipstick and a bra (btw,
>foon this doesn't include you).
So flattering to be the exception. So I don't have to wear the lipstick and bra?
What a relief!(Long hair HAH!! Them were the good old days)
Lemme see, Sparky:
Longboards
Drinks Irish Beer
Rides without a leash
Hangs out around a campfire
Talks about royalties, schedules (as in rules) new angles (as in opportunities),
website development, and female companionship.
Supports alternative lifestyles that include eating real food and living in
houses.
Offered to act as a matchmaker with admirers of Stamps.
Considers the amourous stares of loggers.
Plays (and more importantly wins) Foosball.
Drinks but drives responsibly.
Is considerate of business owners (especially bars)
Believes in relieving the soul of guilt through confession:
>I had a confession to make... I told him that "I was 7000
>years old" and that "he didn't need to wear his seatbelt
>when he was riding with me..." while holding my bare hand. :)
(at this point my computer burped.)
>this seemed to put him at ease.
I'll bet. Made him dreamy even.
>fuck that hurt.
You need a hug.
Damn Sparky, that's an impressive list son. A few more good deeds and you would
garner an official invitation to the Guidopalooza 2002 WITH your own bedroom
and an official flower lei compliments of Miss DD. A grand slam would be
reporting you paid for Stamps's rehab, or took some Indian kids into Seattle for
a field trip to your condo building.
-Foon (proud as punch to know a man like Sparky!)
Ljswahine2
<< but after a shared six pack, my worst fears had
been confirmed. stamps was now living in a house. he was
eating solid food. he had lost his edge totally. >>
Raw talent comes and goes so quickly. Time for those method acting workshops.