for those of you who know...
I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!
holy moly.
The thoughts and ideas experessed herein are in no way a reflection of....
hehe.
shit balls!
go me!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
No kisses
I remember being inside your tent
just long enough for one, just wide enough for two
with a bit of space in between
space in which to decide if we are lovers or friends.
Inside your tent on a stinking hot afternoon, I like to remember this first,
We'd surfed ourselves weary, and eaten, and fucked
Wonderfully, unexpectedly and utterly naked, gross in our human sweat and blood but it not mattering because we have long known each other as human and loved each other anyway.
Flesh flesh sweat and tongues
Rich strong orgasms and love
Somewhere in that tangle,
love,
making all that is not right, seem alright.
After that we had rolled to our sides of the tent to pass into satisfied sleep but just before I passed out for good i awaken slightly and your hand
it's ever so soft palm
is gently cupping my head
in an ever so loving way
and I kiss it, naturally
as if it were all mine
and turn to you
and sleepily smile
And for a moment we have both forgotten that the best is over.
I snored, you said, a satisfied and happy snore
So, even in my sleep I am lying to myself
and even in my sleep,
betraying myself to you.
Yes
I was satisfied
Yes, I was happy.
Totally, utterly
both.
Inside that tent
at night, the last night
It is growing painful to remember now
I have to force myself into the memory
You play guitar and I sing
We both sing and I record it on your camera
Saving these memories, for what? do i think
We do our whole repetoir: Jack, Ben, Eddie, Simon
through the pages of our history, songs marking the dates
All those songs, all their meanings, that only we know
You strum
your beautiful, brown hands
their long, elegant fingers fanning over the frets
You are everything
Just as I remember
Everything I love
Still there.
We sing and we talk, again, like friends
I say things I thought I'd given up saying
I hear myself explaining me to you
And i clean out my ears and watch your lips move so I might get you
once and for all
Wanting us to understand each other
like we never did
I hand you a hold on me
I let hope grow a rope
You teach me African work songs and
we chant
sing
laugh deleriously
mad in the light of the lamp in our tent
Your tent
This is really dangerous now.
We get drunk
I get drunkest and you hold back because
You need to be in control, of me, of everything, you always did
And I need to be out of control
always did
And the merriness rises to a peak
the booze all gone, the cigarettes all smoked but one
the songs all sung
I climb over and kiss you
from your stomach to your face
But you close your lips hard
and say
No kisses.
And suddenly, sharply I know
I know
that there is hate for me
somewhere in your heart.
Nothing more can be said
so i scream, and cry.
But not because I want you anymore
But because finally I can see
I am sitting in the ash
where our love has died.
And it is cold.
The warmth of love gone.
Ash cold.
just long enough for one, just wide enough for two
with a bit of space in between
space in which to decide if we are lovers or friends.
Inside your tent on a stinking hot afternoon, I like to remember this first,
We'd surfed ourselves weary, and eaten, and fucked
Wonderfully, unexpectedly and utterly naked, gross in our human sweat and blood but it not mattering because we have long known each other as human and loved each other anyway.
Flesh flesh sweat and tongues
Rich strong orgasms and love
Somewhere in that tangle,
love,
making all that is not right, seem alright.
After that we had rolled to our sides of the tent to pass into satisfied sleep but just before I passed out for good i awaken slightly and your hand
it's ever so soft palm
is gently cupping my head
in an ever so loving way
and I kiss it, naturally
as if it were all mine
and turn to you
and sleepily smile
And for a moment we have both forgotten that the best is over.
I snored, you said, a satisfied and happy snore
So, even in my sleep I am lying to myself
and even in my sleep,
betraying myself to you.
Yes
I was satisfied
Yes, I was happy.
Totally, utterly
both.
Inside that tent
at night, the last night
It is growing painful to remember now
I have to force myself into the memory
You play guitar and I sing
We both sing and I record it on your camera
Saving these memories, for what? do i think
We do our whole repetoir: Jack, Ben, Eddie, Simon
through the pages of our history, songs marking the dates
All those songs, all their meanings, that only we know
You strum
your beautiful, brown hands
their long, elegant fingers fanning over the frets
You are everything
Just as I remember
Everything I love
Still there.
We sing and we talk, again, like friends
I say things I thought I'd given up saying
I hear myself explaining me to you
And i clean out my ears and watch your lips move so I might get you
once and for all
Wanting us to understand each other
like we never did
I hand you a hold on me
I let hope grow a rope
You teach me African work songs and
we chant
sing
laugh deleriously
mad in the light of the lamp in our tent
Your tent
This is really dangerous now.
We get drunk
I get drunkest and you hold back because
You need to be in control, of me, of everything, you always did
And I need to be out of control
always did
And the merriness rises to a peak
the booze all gone, the cigarettes all smoked but one
the songs all sung
I climb over and kiss you
from your stomach to your face
But you close your lips hard
and say
No kisses.
And suddenly, sharply I know
I know
that there is hate for me
somewhere in your heart.
Nothing more can be said
so i scream, and cry.
But not because I want you anymore
But because finally I can see
I am sitting in the ash
where our love has died.
And it is cold.
The warmth of love gone.
Ash cold.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I'm sitting here with throbbing sinuses, aching muscles and a dripping nose.
A cold! outrageous. Not me! a naturopath with a cold. it seems i am not infact made of metal inside with the constitution of an action hero.
But it was all worth it.
Raglan is so beautiful, wonderful. Not sweetly wonderful or beautiful.
Vast and wild and unkempt and frightening and awesomely beautiful and wonderful.
A place where you can see that it is endless, and want to weep with the absolute and infinite beauty of this unbelievable planet.
nope, I can't explain. I knew I wouldn't be able to. You have to go and see.
Soundsplash was mint. We mismanaged our energy and alcohol supplies and slept through some of the best bits, but actually, the best bits was the whole thing, for the whole weekend i wasn't thinking of the future in any way, i was right then and there. the present. a blissful place.
The surf is choice. but you coulda read that in the lonely planet.
the first afternoon was onshore and crumbly and a bit too big, but i gave it a whack, just good to get out. I had been gaggin to get out all day and Loren 'i left our tickets in auckland' had kinda held the troupes up. but nay fear. we got round that bastard. and got through the alcohol checks TWICE. we shoulda brought more.
An indication of the attitude that weaves together raglanites, everytime we need to 'bend' the rules on something, the 'official' (a bro in orange fluro) would say.. ahhh, you're not supposed to.. but just don't say i let you.
and we were in, or off, or whatever we wanted. sah-weet.
Blackseeds Friday night, kinda mellow set for them but always good.
Headed out early next morning greedy for waves, and totally mistimed it and got onshore and crumbly again. And dark. And cold. And just plain unwelcoming.
Just as i got dry and got my clothes on (up the big ass hill you have to walk up to get back to wainui reserve, kind of a mish after fatiguing from paddling) the wind changed and it became perfect barrelling offshore movie shot spray spraying off it's rails. gutted.
i was achey tired from only 4 hours sleep and it was TOO HOT to move or sleep or fart or do anything so i just had to slug around in the shade waiting to get up the energy to go back down.
Dragged lol up and went back down and the whole weekend was redeemed by the perfect, clean, 2ft lefthanders, green and shiny splender. me and about five others hogged this break, it was perfect, i grinned with glee. Got up a good few times and had a good few little rides. The frustration of the mornings crapness ebbing away. Even hot enough to surf in only bikini and boardies. happyness.
Came in and sacrificed my board to Rei who wanted a turn. Lay on teh beach with Lol and got a perfect tan. Nearly got picked up by the guest lifeguards who wanted to take us for a ride in the life saving boat. BLoody ahy! you can flirt with me for that kinda credit!! then they walked 50m to the next two hot babes in bikini's and no doubt offered them too a ride. opportunistic buggers! but you can't really blame them.
Oh and there was reggae, and dub, and the yummiest vegetarian kai on the planet, and dancing, lots of head nodding and hip shaking and that drumming without sticks thing you do with your hands when your dancing. yeah some of that. and barefoot stomping.
Bata Cuda Sound Machine (sp) were the unexpected highlight of the gig. you know that music that makes you shake every last little bit of jelly on your body and sweat drip from your head to your toes. yup. was good.
The unexpected lowlight was waiting for Kora to come on while Dub Syndicate played a really boring 2 hour set. I likened it to my ring tone. only more bass. I don't even know who those guys were, but the vocals came from their laptop, and like. just nah. it was for WAAAYYYYSTED stoners to mong out to. we wanted to dance.
The blessed and beautiful brothers of Kora came on at 3 and played til 4, which took the absolute last of my energy. i was dancing in a rug, and it wasn't dancing, it was swaying, smiling, and swaying. and who should be next in the line up but the one and only Shapeshifter.
and what did i do? i went back to the tent and fell asleep listening to them play the first track off their new album.
The flood light of the whopper muther lamp thingy in the camp ground drifting down through our blue tent i whispered haggardly to rei and lol: "i've been thrashing this album, as loud as i can, in my car, for months, on the way to the beach. Its my stoked out surf album".
and they groaned in sympathy for me. and then we were gone. I didn't even stay awake to hear them finish the track.
then i wake to; clarey, clarey.. your alarms been going off for half an hour and people are starting to get their cars.
we'd planned to get up early and leave before the masses did. a shame we only got home 'early'.
i peeled my eyes apart and did what had to be done. we made a swift and tidy exit. Loren and Rei are amazing camping compadres. Ready with the booze, smoked fish, roast vege's and anecdotes. Quick and clever and love to dance to reggae. god bless you both you rockers.
Breakfast in the rising sun of raglan city drinking mean soy latte and having big vege breaky.
slept thewhole way back and woke up with this cold.
small price to pay.
if i had a camera, you'd be looking at the choicest pics that would BLOW YOUR MIND out of your ears with the sheer stunning beauty. i've never seen coastlines so long, so big, so endless, so dwarving, so levelling.
I sat and meditated on both sunsets and was filled. filled. empty and full and good and a tear came to my eyes as the burning globe sunk behind the endlessness of sea and it's parallel and perfect ripples of swell washing in from the horizon.
I love Raglan. I love Reggae. And the surf is what everyone says it is.
Race you there.
X
A cold! outrageous. Not me! a naturopath with a cold. it seems i am not infact made of metal inside with the constitution of an action hero.
But it was all worth it.
Raglan is so beautiful, wonderful. Not sweetly wonderful or beautiful.
Vast and wild and unkempt and frightening and awesomely beautiful and wonderful.
A place where you can see that it is endless, and want to weep with the absolute and infinite beauty of this unbelievable planet.
nope, I can't explain. I knew I wouldn't be able to. You have to go and see.
Soundsplash was mint. We mismanaged our energy and alcohol supplies and slept through some of the best bits, but actually, the best bits was the whole thing, for the whole weekend i wasn't thinking of the future in any way, i was right then and there. the present. a blissful place.
The surf is choice. but you coulda read that in the lonely planet.
the first afternoon was onshore and crumbly and a bit too big, but i gave it a whack, just good to get out. I had been gaggin to get out all day and Loren 'i left our tickets in auckland' had kinda held the troupes up. but nay fear. we got round that bastard. and got through the alcohol checks TWICE. we shoulda brought more.
An indication of the attitude that weaves together raglanites, everytime we need to 'bend' the rules on something, the 'official' (a bro in orange fluro) would say.. ahhh, you're not supposed to.. but just don't say i let you.
and we were in, or off, or whatever we wanted. sah-weet.
Blackseeds Friday night, kinda mellow set for them but always good.
Headed out early next morning greedy for waves, and totally mistimed it and got onshore and crumbly again. And dark. And cold. And just plain unwelcoming.
Just as i got dry and got my clothes on (up the big ass hill you have to walk up to get back to wainui reserve, kind of a mish after fatiguing from paddling) the wind changed and it became perfect barrelling offshore movie shot spray spraying off it's rails. gutted.
i was achey tired from only 4 hours sleep and it was TOO HOT to move or sleep or fart or do anything so i just had to slug around in the shade waiting to get up the energy to go back down.
Dragged lol up and went back down and the whole weekend was redeemed by the perfect, clean, 2ft lefthanders, green and shiny splender. me and about five others hogged this break, it was perfect, i grinned with glee. Got up a good few times and had a good few little rides. The frustration of the mornings crapness ebbing away. Even hot enough to surf in only bikini and boardies. happyness.
Came in and sacrificed my board to Rei who wanted a turn. Lay on teh beach with Lol and got a perfect tan. Nearly got picked up by the guest lifeguards who wanted to take us for a ride in the life saving boat. BLoody ahy! you can flirt with me for that kinda credit!! then they walked 50m to the next two hot babes in bikini's and no doubt offered them too a ride. opportunistic buggers! but you can't really blame them.
Oh and there was reggae, and dub, and the yummiest vegetarian kai on the planet, and dancing, lots of head nodding and hip shaking and that drumming without sticks thing you do with your hands when your dancing. yeah some of that. and barefoot stomping.
Bata Cuda Sound Machine (sp) were the unexpected highlight of the gig. you know that music that makes you shake every last little bit of jelly on your body and sweat drip from your head to your toes. yup. was good.
The unexpected lowlight was waiting for Kora to come on while Dub Syndicate played a really boring 2 hour set. I likened it to my ring tone. only more bass. I don't even know who those guys were, but the vocals came from their laptop, and like. just nah. it was for WAAAYYYYSTED stoners to mong out to. we wanted to dance.
The blessed and beautiful brothers of Kora came on at 3 and played til 4, which took the absolute last of my energy. i was dancing in a rug, and it wasn't dancing, it was swaying, smiling, and swaying. and who should be next in the line up but the one and only Shapeshifter.
and what did i do? i went back to the tent and fell asleep listening to them play the first track off their new album.
The flood light of the whopper muther lamp thingy in the camp ground drifting down through our blue tent i whispered haggardly to rei and lol: "i've been thrashing this album, as loud as i can, in my car, for months, on the way to the beach. Its my stoked out surf album".
and they groaned in sympathy for me. and then we were gone. I didn't even stay awake to hear them finish the track.
then i wake to; clarey, clarey.. your alarms been going off for half an hour and people are starting to get their cars.
we'd planned to get up early and leave before the masses did. a shame we only got home 'early'.
i peeled my eyes apart and did what had to be done. we made a swift and tidy exit. Loren and Rei are amazing camping compadres. Ready with the booze, smoked fish, roast vege's and anecdotes. Quick and clever and love to dance to reggae. god bless you both you rockers.
Breakfast in the rising sun of raglan city drinking mean soy latte and having big vege breaky.
slept thewhole way back and woke up with this cold.
small price to pay.
if i had a camera, you'd be looking at the choicest pics that would BLOW YOUR MIND out of your ears with the sheer stunning beauty. i've never seen coastlines so long, so big, so endless, so dwarving, so levelling.
I sat and meditated on both sunsets and was filled. filled. empty and full and good and a tear came to my eyes as the burning globe sunk behind the endlessness of sea and it's parallel and perfect ripples of swell washing in from the horizon.
I love Raglan. I love Reggae. And the surf is what everyone says it is.
Race you there.
X
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
wishing you were me
i'm off to raglan for two and a half days to bask in the good vibes of new zealands best dub and reggae artists and check out the raglan breaks. It's meant to be 2m and onshore so i'll probably return with tales of whitewater midlining. But am sure to have the time of my life dancing my ass off, swimming, eating organic food and stalking band members... ahem.
wish you were me.
love
x
wish you were me.
love
x
Sunday, February 18, 2007
ooohhh you don't say
I was just reading (should be working should be working) an internet site about improving your surfing. It's really for more advanced fella's, cuz for me the only real advice needed at this point is: go out and try. One or two points made me grin though. So I am going to post it here, with comments from me in brackets, as I think it is both apt, and entertaining:
Good Rules To Live By
Let someone else do your bragging, not yourself.. (HAHA! Fully o' fish bro)
Some days you are going to surf like a goof, laugh it off. (Each and everytime my brother!)
Don't blame your boards, get new ones, talk to your shaper. (blame the board?!?! oh yeah and my wetsuit was too.. and the sun..)
Accept and encourage helpful criticism. (Always)
No whingeing about soreness, your personal problems, just get on with it. (ahhhh, well then....that would pretty much be the end of my blog. Have I mentioned the mighty big brown bruises I have on both hipbones? I was going to post photo's I think they're so impressive... but now i've read this i'll have to keep it to myself....and everything else i whinge about, shit my blogs are going to get small...)
Keep your ego to yourself, that doesn't mean you shouldn't develop one. It can help you achieve your goal. (ahuh)
A good surf can come down to one or two good waves or even a good turn. A good surfer puts them in his memory but knows that he can do it again and even better than before. This will keep you motivated for a life time. (you what with the what sorry? Good turn? okay just gimme a second to get up on my feet and stay there..)
Fear is something to work with. Fear produces adrenaline and adds to your sense of achievement. As for those crappy "no fear t shirts" if you got any use them as a car wash rag. It's because with the love of overcoming your fears comes the adrenaline that'll make you go from a good surfer to a great surfer. Respect fear and use its energy. It's a gift.
(ahhhh, a gift. Well why didnt' you say so!)
There's a point of balance in you that is centered. If you have felt it before, you'll know what I mean. It's your sweet spot. Find it, know it, live it. Be smooth and you will be in control.
(isn't that the nicest thing you've heard all day. Makes me feel centred just reading it, it's officially quote of the week).
Tu tera mai nga iwi
OE!
Tatau tatau e
Everybody now...
Good Rules To Live By
Let someone else do your bragging, not yourself.. (HAHA! Fully o' fish bro)
Some days you are going to surf like a goof, laugh it off. (Each and everytime my brother!)
Don't blame your boards, get new ones, talk to your shaper. (blame the board?!?! oh yeah and my wetsuit was too.. and the sun..)
Accept and encourage helpful criticism. (Always)
No whingeing about soreness, your personal problems, just get on with it. (ahhhh, well then....that would pretty much be the end of my blog. Have I mentioned the mighty big brown bruises I have on both hipbones? I was going to post photo's I think they're so impressive... but now i've read this i'll have to keep it to myself....and everything else i whinge about, shit my blogs are going to get small...)
Keep your ego to yourself, that doesn't mean you shouldn't develop one. It can help you achieve your goal. (ahuh)
A good surf can come down to one or two good waves or even a good turn. A good surfer puts them in his memory but knows that he can do it again and even better than before. This will keep you motivated for a life time. (you what with the what sorry? Good turn? okay just gimme a second to get up on my feet and stay there..)
Fear is something to work with. Fear produces adrenaline and adds to your sense of achievement. As for those crappy "no fear t shirts" if you got any use them as a car wash rag. It's because with the love of overcoming your fears comes the adrenaline that'll make you go from a good surfer to a great surfer. Respect fear and use its energy. It's a gift.
(ahhhh, a gift. Well why didnt' you say so!)
There's a point of balance in you that is centered. If you have felt it before, you'll know what I mean. It's your sweet spot. Find it, know it, live it. Be smooth and you will be in control.
(isn't that the nicest thing you've heard all day. Makes me feel centred just reading it, it's officially quote of the week).
Tu tera mai nga iwi
OE!
Tatau tatau e
Everybody now...
Sunday February 18th
It's Odettes birthday today. Somewhere in the world, maybe the Austria? It's not Austria and everytime I try to remember where I can only think of the word Austria. Well somewhere in the Swiss Alps she is turning 27. Welcome to 27 odette. Are the Swiss Alps in Swiss-erland?
Oh Jusuit. Happy Birthday Odette. You're the shiz.
Piha was 2-3ft today and SW cross/onshore. It was a good old sunny day, not too scorching but hot under foot and need lotsa cream. Piha packed as ever on a sunny sunday. A rainbow of towels umbrellas beach tents surf boards and flesh, wonderful odd shaped sweaty semi undressed people of all ages and sizes and genders growing on piha like a fungus. A good fungus. A happy Sunny Sunday Fungus.
Okay so today i have to admit it, I'm scared of the waves.
I"m scared. Cuz of my 'near drowning'. I realised today, I'm back on the horse but I've switched to a shetland pony.
Me Matt and Lucy went out. I was sleep deprived from working last night but god teh waves wash a bit of a hangover right out your ears.
Good brave matt borrowed my brothers board and wetty. He's been out before, once, seventeen years ago.
I told him the few things I knew, punctuated with "but I know nothing", and they sounded half obvious half stupid coming out my mouth.
Paddled out and across to the best looking part of the break at North Piha. Up by lions rock but not too close. Between the flags as luck would have it.
This is what happens to me now. I jump through the first three or four waves, as the gather gusto, the white water growing in height each wave. Wading wading. God it takes forever, but it's not the kind of thing I feel like hurrying. Then a wave comes that is much bigger and if i got through it I'd be set up to catch the next one, but i don't wanna go through it. Can't go over it. Can't go under it. can't go through it. Can't go round it. (Can't=Don't wanna)
SO i turn around and say that'll do and paddle and have that one. and thats cool, but you don't get as much wave and i'm riding the white water. Does it matter? i'm still having fun, and getting better, maybe it doesn't matter but i'm worried i'm being a scaredycat.
Yep thats pretty much it, i'm concerned for my status, scared people will point as I pass and call out there goes ScaredyCatTyler. I hate being scaredy. I hate being chickenshit. But I really, really don't want to drown. I don't want to go down with that wave and have to hold my breath and... drown. I don't want to even feel like i'm might be GOING to drown. oh dear.
So i'm not going out to back line anymore. But i think they're too big for me. At Piha.
I see them coming, building, walls of water, this deceptively flat surfaced wall which is a wounded bull of moving water and think fuck no. Fuck no. Fuck.
or: SHOOOOWEEEEE. Meaning: big fucker.
And i see the dudes on top and think: rather you than me.
And when i go down under the wave my heart jumps into my throat. Silly heart doesn't know that i'm not going to drown, that i'm waist deep in water, that i'm surrounded by people and lifeguards, that it'll be over in a second. Silly heart gets that under the salt water feeling and starts stressing. Oh dear.
As if there weren't enough things against me in this world now i have to have irrational fear of drowing. that'll make for reeeeeal good surfing. Chickenshitassbastards.
So thats what i did for however long. The afternoon. it was sweet though and other dudes were there with me, and one even said, this is the spot ahy, catching heaps. I said yeah and not so much chance of drowing. But he'd already turned away. I'm too chatty for surfers.
Yeah so. But i got up and did a little carve thing on my board today, like had time to turn, and then slid off SPECTACTULARLY like FLEW across the sky superman styles, i laughed before i hit the wave thats how funny i thought i looked, and when i popped up this surfer dude said encouragingly, 'almost!' just before my board flew out and nearly thwacked him in the head and i apologise profusely with my hair in my eyes and seasnot dripping out my nose. He didnt' seem to mind.
surfers. nice bunch.
So yeah. top day though. followed by a lovely walk to the waterfall and an icy dip in the pool there. and quiche and apricot square mmmmm.
I also just watched The Squid and The Whale. If anyone has divorced parents and enjoyed and wants to relive the stifled, unexpressable pain and strangled emotions of people in your family fighting, miscommunicating and leaving each other, it's really a great, great film.
Otherwise, if you'd rather leave that particular aspect of your childhood in your childhood with monsters under the bed and other things you thankfully grew right out of, save yourself $8 and just say you did.
Did you see the paper yesterday and read about the hangglider lady who got sucked up in a storm 30,000 feet into the air?!?!?!!? Higher than mount everest. ANd lived. She has some frostbite on her face, ears, hadns and feet. but otherwise okay. she saw lightening all around her and then blacked out. She's still going to enter the world competition for hanggliders.
Somethings are just too crazy.
Sleepy.
X
Oh Jusuit. Happy Birthday Odette. You're the shiz.
Piha was 2-3ft today and SW cross/onshore. It was a good old sunny day, not too scorching but hot under foot and need lotsa cream. Piha packed as ever on a sunny sunday. A rainbow of towels umbrellas beach tents surf boards and flesh, wonderful odd shaped sweaty semi undressed people of all ages and sizes and genders growing on piha like a fungus. A good fungus. A happy Sunny Sunday Fungus.
Okay so today i have to admit it, I'm scared of the waves.
I"m scared. Cuz of my 'near drowning'. I realised today, I'm back on the horse but I've switched to a shetland pony.
Me Matt and Lucy went out. I was sleep deprived from working last night but god teh waves wash a bit of a hangover right out your ears.
Good brave matt borrowed my brothers board and wetty. He's been out before, once, seventeen years ago.
I told him the few things I knew, punctuated with "but I know nothing", and they sounded half obvious half stupid coming out my mouth.
Paddled out and across to the best looking part of the break at North Piha. Up by lions rock but not too close. Between the flags as luck would have it.
This is what happens to me now. I jump through the first three or four waves, as the gather gusto, the white water growing in height each wave. Wading wading. God it takes forever, but it's not the kind of thing I feel like hurrying. Then a wave comes that is much bigger and if i got through it I'd be set up to catch the next one, but i don't wanna go through it. Can't go over it. Can't go under it. can't go through it. Can't go round it. (Can't=Don't wanna)
SO i turn around and say that'll do and paddle and have that one. and thats cool, but you don't get as much wave and i'm riding the white water. Does it matter? i'm still having fun, and getting better, maybe it doesn't matter but i'm worried i'm being a scaredycat.
Yep thats pretty much it, i'm concerned for my status, scared people will point as I pass and call out there goes ScaredyCatTyler. I hate being scaredy. I hate being chickenshit. But I really, really don't want to drown. I don't want to go down with that wave and have to hold my breath and... drown. I don't want to even feel like i'm might be GOING to drown. oh dear.
So i'm not going out to back line anymore. But i think they're too big for me. At Piha.
I see them coming, building, walls of water, this deceptively flat surfaced wall which is a wounded bull of moving water and think fuck no. Fuck no. Fuck.
or: SHOOOOWEEEEE. Meaning: big fucker.
And i see the dudes on top and think: rather you than me.
And when i go down under the wave my heart jumps into my throat. Silly heart doesn't know that i'm not going to drown, that i'm waist deep in water, that i'm surrounded by people and lifeguards, that it'll be over in a second. Silly heart gets that under the salt water feeling and starts stressing. Oh dear.
As if there weren't enough things against me in this world now i have to have irrational fear of drowing. that'll make for reeeeeal good surfing. Chickenshitassbastards.
So thats what i did for however long. The afternoon. it was sweet though and other dudes were there with me, and one even said, this is the spot ahy, catching heaps. I said yeah and not so much chance of drowing. But he'd already turned away. I'm too chatty for surfers.
Yeah so. But i got up and did a little carve thing on my board today, like had time to turn, and then slid off SPECTACTULARLY like FLEW across the sky superman styles, i laughed before i hit the wave thats how funny i thought i looked, and when i popped up this surfer dude said encouragingly, 'almost!' just before my board flew out and nearly thwacked him in the head and i apologise profusely with my hair in my eyes and seasnot dripping out my nose. He didnt' seem to mind.
surfers. nice bunch.
So yeah. top day though. followed by a lovely walk to the waterfall and an icy dip in the pool there. and quiche and apricot square mmmmm.
I also just watched The Squid and The Whale. If anyone has divorced parents and enjoyed and wants to relive the stifled, unexpressable pain and strangled emotions of people in your family fighting, miscommunicating and leaving each other, it's really a great, great film.
Otherwise, if you'd rather leave that particular aspect of your childhood in your childhood with monsters under the bed and other things you thankfully grew right out of, save yourself $8 and just say you did.
Did you see the paper yesterday and read about the hangglider lady who got sucked up in a storm 30,000 feet into the air?!?!?!!? Higher than mount everest. ANd lived. She has some frostbite on her face, ears, hadns and feet. but otherwise okay. she saw lightening all around her and then blacked out. She's still going to enter the world competition for hanggliders.
Somethings are just too crazy.
Sleepy.
X
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
It is August
So that was it.
Take down the ribbons.
Eat the leftovers
Push it in, tuck it in
shut it down
neat trick.
That was it.
Sometimes a birthday lasts and lasts
some are drowned
and some are closed.
This one ought to be shut tight.
Perhaps that just me.
She is sixty.
She will say:
"It was wonderful"
It was hard.
And sometimes, a little bit wonderful.
She has rich auburn hair
her skin is plump and fresh, a pink lipped rose in a bunch of jonquils
her eyes are a blue and sparkling sea
she smiles
It is August.
she is sixty.
The food was yellow.
Butter.
Bread.
Ham.
Cheese.
And spinach because it was French, you know.
A little bit of onion, SO French.
There are crepe paper ribbons
they are red
They drapse from the rafters like the guts of bombs in plays by kids
crinkled and twisting.
There are helium balloons
they are red
ribbons trail from their puckered assholes
to the floor
they're kinda spooky
bobbing their noggins on the ceiling
waving their tails
like they're trying to
get out.
She takes the balloons in a bundle in her hand
With camera's poised at our faces to catch her
she stands up high on her toes on a bench on the corner of the deck
and throws fifteen red balloons up into the air
red and escaping
the sky is thick with bluegrey thunder clouds
and a few thin rays of weak sun stream through in patches
up they float past the tallest gum trees and away.
What am I letting go? She asks
As if she doesn't know.
Take down the ribbons.
Eat the leftovers
Push it in, tuck it in
shut it down
neat trick.
That was it.
Sometimes a birthday lasts and lasts
some are drowned
and some are closed.
This one ought to be shut tight.
Perhaps that just me.
She is sixty.
She will say:
"It was wonderful"
It was hard.
And sometimes, a little bit wonderful.
She has rich auburn hair
her skin is plump and fresh, a pink lipped rose in a bunch of jonquils
her eyes are a blue and sparkling sea
she smiles
It is August.
she is sixty.
The food was yellow.
Butter.
Bread.
Ham.
Cheese.
And spinach because it was French, you know.
A little bit of onion, SO French.
There are crepe paper ribbons
they are red
They drapse from the rafters like the guts of bombs in plays by kids
crinkled and twisting.
There are helium balloons
they are red
ribbons trail from their puckered assholes
to the floor
they're kinda spooky
bobbing their noggins on the ceiling
waving their tails
like they're trying to
get out.
She takes the balloons in a bundle in her hand
With camera's poised at our faces to catch her
she stands up high on her toes on a bench on the corner of the deck
and throws fifteen red balloons up into the air
red and escaping
the sky is thick with bluegrey thunder clouds
and a few thin rays of weak sun stream through in patches
up they float past the tallest gum trees and away.
What am I letting go? She asks
As if she doesn't know.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Love: A Three Part Drama...
Hi, valentines post, I don't even care, I thought i cared and now i'm over it.
You know who will care? My brothers girlfriend of five years. Not only is it valentines day but it's their five year anniversary and I asked him if he'd gotten her a present and he said:
We don't really do presents
(oh. my. god) You're the boyfriend from hell.
but it's valentines day?
yeaaahhhh? a look of naievity sweeps his face.
HAHAHAHAHAHA he has no idea. that poor woman.
She'll be nicer to you if you do?
Hmmmm, he seems to take this into valid consideration.
just flowers will do kae. OH GOD.
so heres a story:
Love Part 1
This Person I Know (TPIK) works in mental health in a house where a handful of .. mental people live. Whats the word for mental nowadays? You know what I mean. People with scizophrenia, manic depression, bi polar, personality disorders etc. Before you get upset let me tell you: most people are crazy. I'm crazy. I'm not even kidding and a few of you reading this will be nodding saying 'ahum'. Who'm I kidding, you're all nodding.
I'd say you're probably crazy too. I'm not joking about that either. We're all quite mental, we just mask it well. Like hairless monkeys with our clever opposable thumbs, we perform tasks within society that allow us to stay here, like not batting the thoughts that circle like pesky demons around your head sometimes, like drinking inside if it's pre 6pm, like cleaning our feet. So don't think I"m being rude when I say 'mental'. I'm just being frank, and frankly, complimentary.
So anyway, Tpik was telling me that, as will happen in any living situation, sometimes the mental people would hook up and form couples. Naturally.
Tpik was giving one mental gentleman a psychotherapy session this one time, and he tells her how he is making his love a gift for her birthday.
Perhaps in one of those Arts Therapy for Mentals classes, I don't know, I'm guessing.
Both the people in said couple had their issues and both had bouts of depression in which they periodically talked about the possibility of suicide. (Suicide is no laughing matter and if you are considering it come and talk to me I will fix and love you and never let you go.)
Well Mr Mental, had made his love, two very small, 'proxy' (if you will) miniature coffins.
A his and hers coffin set.
These were to represent the coffins that they both would occupy when they died, together, in a dark and passionate tryst, in what was clearly a very romantic vision of his.
The work and thought that would go into that sort of gift, is no small thing.
And Tpik told me, it was one of those moments of strained professionalism, when she had not to laugh.
I wish I could tell you that the mental lady liked the gift, but I don't know. I
wish I could tell you that they never used the gifts, if that would make you feel good, but I don't know.
What I think I do know is this: Sometimes love does not come in the form we expect, sometimes, love does not come the way we want it to, or in a shape we like
and sometimes we wouldn't even recognise it
But I think that more people are TRYING to love us, than we know.
Love Part 2 This story is about me.
And how I love, being me, just me. Just incase anyone feelings sad today, might be able to empathise (sp) with me and feel better.
Sometimes, I change my mind about my plans, I cancel on things at the last minute, take the wrong road, choose other options, go somewhere at the drop of a hat, and I don't have to run it past anyone. Nobody minds a bit. Nobody complains or gives a shit.
I can move. Cities, houses, countries... I can go anywhere, and nothing holds me back or makes it tragic. It is not heartbreaking, it is THRILLING.
I never fight. I never think that I will leave me.
I never lie to myself to make me like me more, even in subtle ways you think you aren't doing, like denying your emotional needs to make yourself seem more easy to love. I know me, and I can guess what I'm going to do, and even when i'm kinda bad, lazy or choose unwisely, I still think i'm cute, and fucking funny.
I haven't put clothes on all afternoon. I don't have to visit anyones grandma. I put on music i like and turn it off when i'm sick of it. I only see movies that I want to see. I don't stay at parties longer than I want to. I don't put in for appearances, and I don't have to meet my ex and be overly nice to her while I hate her that she's made love with me too, first.
I eat what I want, when I want, I get all the good bits, and leave the bad bits, and I NEVER look at myself sideways and think: thats not a good idea. I back me, all the way. Even when i'm hungover and eating cheesels for breakfast.
I never bat an eye.
I never suggest I do the soul crushing sensible thing.
No, I say, Congratulations Clare, you are AMAZING and you must hold out for things that make your soul happy.
When I dream I dream big and I believe it.
I don't nod and say, aaahuhh... and show my underlying doubt.
I never think: this is all I've got. I"m stuck with you because I love you so much now and we've shared so much and I can't bear to leave you.
Because there is just me, and that leaves the possibility for so much more.
I live with constant, shiny, bubbly, sparkly HOPE. The hope is a candle that bobs along in a sea of contentment icing on the cake of my heart.
And I love me. I'm kinda rude about me sometimes, and I should stick up for myself more sometimes. I should treat me a little better. Get more sleep, drink less coffee. But deep down, I think i'm really wonderful. And that's nice. Especially coming from someone as high calibre as me. There are too many good things about being in love to ever write down, but being a single serve for one, just me, no 'plus one', isn't such a shit bag either.
Love Part 3
This ones about you.
And you.
And you.
And all of you.
You know who you are.
And it's about how much I love you.
I love you because you have never judged me, not once, and you tell me all the evil things you think and do so that we can laugh and so that I will know we're all a little bad, and you laugh with me, more than anyone. You will buy a baddass eighties leotard and pxt yourself in it and send it to me, when I'm crying, just to make me laugh.
I love you both because you have always and always will give me everything I need, above and over your own needs. Without ever thinking twice.
I love you because you are good. And you love your daughter the way you love everyone, effortlessly, every second without ever swaying from kindness and compassion.
I love you because you question the world. You say what you need to say even though it is big and scary and challenging and emotional and weird and no one understands you. You still say. And you make it okay for us all to say. You fight the wrong in the world for us all. And you play mean guitar, drop anything to surf with me and let me laugh at your Oldmanpants and love everything I do.
I love you because you stick to who you are. You don't like to tell too much, but still you cannot close your heart. You speak truth. You make it okay for us all to speak the truth. When I am lost I come to you and you give me your attention and your thoughts, and you are always right. You know about the anatomy of the soul, you're my soul sister. Like two queens in a deck.
I love you because you always listen to me, even when you're not listening, because you're a boy and you can't, you're still pressent, and you accept me. You also tell good stories about how horses came from marsupials and used to be as big as cats. I love your stories. You're also a great big drama queen and maybe the only person who understands how I can fall in love in 24 hours. You're my boy.
I love you because you honour yourself and the call of your soul. You are a lamppost for us all. A light of self love, self belief. You made me a bicycle from junkyard scrap. And you stay real with me.
I suppose I love you because you love me. But not because you give me love, because you meet me in the middle and we each hold half.
Roses are nice, but for $4 a stem they're a crippling rip off.
Chocolate isn't nice, it's bad for you and sickly.
Cards are just firewood that say things we already know in our hearts.
Lingerie is sexy, but only because of who it's on.
So heres my ending point.
Love is everywhere, and love is all there is.
So please don't feel bad today. Theres so much good.
If you do feel bad, I suggest surfing. It cures all ills.
If that doesn't convince you, think of baby Jesus.
Do you think baby jesus wanted Myrr? Have you touched myrr? it's as tacky as a bottle blonde in a sequenned dress. But baby jesus knew, he knew that God meant well, and so he felt good in his little baby tummy and he was grateful. If only we couldn't all be more like baby jesus.
Happy in our tummies. Amen.
X
Timing is everything
Me and Old Man Pants went out to Piha today, squeezed in a lunchtime surf. An hour and a half driving for an hours surf. thats love ahy. Was real small. the word was said, it was flat. but you know, it's always bigger when you get out there.
I toyed around in the small waves at first, the fear of last weeks 'near drowning' lingering in my pit. But it was real gentle. I could gone out further, but we were catching them. Us 'mid-liners'. Thats my term for the people on boogie boards, girls, and old men in hats, who are MORE than happy not to paddle out to back line but to skunk around in the shoulder deep water catching these feisty little cubs, thanks very much. I shouldn't stereotype, but the world keeps doing it for me.
I stood up today, straight up, look at me mum i'm standing! and rode along for probably a few seconds, that felt like, a few seconds. But a GOOD few seconds. Smiles all round. Look at me i'm surfing. Happy days. Now don't look at me anymore I'm falling, my legs tangled in the rope, yes thats my foot, stop looking this is silly.
But the lesson of the day was: Wait.
There I am, paddle paddle, mmm big green sea sparkling mmm cliffs hello.. surfers smiley happy mmmm then HELLO a surfable wave, turn, paddle, catchit. It's not fabulous (AHA when did you last hear a surfer call a wave fabulous!?!?! AHAHAHAHA He bro how's the surf? OH IT WAS FABULOUS DARLING, absolutely TO DIE FOR buahahaha).
It's not fabulous, it's average, but good enough. Turn to paddle out and four or five consecutive GREAT waves break over me as i'm on my way out. Increasingly better in their size, shape and power.
Like Russian wooden dolls coming out of each others middles. Kinda.
I did this about eight times. Caught the first average mofo wave that came along, when three or four really spectacular ones were right behind it.
I had to go to work later, and OldManPants very kindly paddle in to check our time. We really had to go. I just wanted one last wave in.
I sat. And waited. We all sat. And waited. Gazing at the horizon, gazing around, at the flatness, at each other, waiting. And more waiting. I even started paddling in, but then was like, awwww naaaahhh, just one more, and paddled back out.
Then sure enough, here she comes, a perfectly nice little rideable wave. I think I waited one or two out, but then itching for a ride in I turn paddle catchit, and body surf the bastard in with my board trailing behind me. that'll have to do. pick up my board, turn, and see the best set of the hour roll in wave after beautiful wave.
Don't take the first averagely okay thing that comes along. Hang out for the set. Theres a beaut right behind that old dinger. Lesson? Wait.
ka kite ano
is anyone reading this? Can you leave an anonymous one word comment? Please?
same bat time...
I toyed around in the small waves at first, the fear of last weeks 'near drowning' lingering in my pit. But it was real gentle. I could gone out further, but we were catching them. Us 'mid-liners'. Thats my term for the people on boogie boards, girls, and old men in hats, who are MORE than happy not to paddle out to back line but to skunk around in the shoulder deep water catching these feisty little cubs, thanks very much. I shouldn't stereotype, but the world keeps doing it for me.
I stood up today, straight up, look at me mum i'm standing! and rode along for probably a few seconds, that felt like, a few seconds. But a GOOD few seconds. Smiles all round. Look at me i'm surfing. Happy days. Now don't look at me anymore I'm falling, my legs tangled in the rope, yes thats my foot, stop looking this is silly.
But the lesson of the day was: Wait.
There I am, paddle paddle, mmm big green sea sparkling mmm cliffs hello.. surfers smiley happy mmmm then HELLO a surfable wave, turn, paddle, catchit. It's not fabulous (AHA when did you last hear a surfer call a wave fabulous!?!?! AHAHAHAHA He bro how's the surf? OH IT WAS FABULOUS DARLING, absolutely TO DIE FOR buahahaha).
It's not fabulous, it's average, but good enough. Turn to paddle out and four or five consecutive GREAT waves break over me as i'm on my way out. Increasingly better in their size, shape and power.
Like Russian wooden dolls coming out of each others middles. Kinda.
I did this about eight times. Caught the first average mofo wave that came along, when three or four really spectacular ones were right behind it.
I had to go to work later, and OldManPants very kindly paddle in to check our time. We really had to go. I just wanted one last wave in.
I sat. And waited. We all sat. And waited. Gazing at the horizon, gazing around, at the flatness, at each other, waiting. And more waiting. I even started paddling in, but then was like, awwww naaaahhh, just one more, and paddled back out.
Then sure enough, here she comes, a perfectly nice little rideable wave. I think I waited one or two out, but then itching for a ride in I turn paddle catchit, and body surf the bastard in with my board trailing behind me. that'll have to do. pick up my board, turn, and see the best set of the hour roll in wave after beautiful wave.
Don't take the first averagely okay thing that comes along. Hang out for the set. Theres a beaut right behind that old dinger. Lesson? Wait.
ka kite ano
is anyone reading this? Can you leave an anonymous one word comment? Please?
same bat time...
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Small Italian Gods
My mind is a flighty bird
thinking of you, then away, then back to you
it jerks and jabs
To think of you is to look upon
a newly opened gift
and delight in its pleasure again and again.
My mouth is tired
Tired from talking
Worn out from singing, laughing, smiling
Tired from kissing you
But I would die kissing you
I would kiss you if it killed me
Though it may be my end
I want to persue you
I want to know you
How divine I think you are
How I taste and retaste
The flavour of your memory in my mind
How very much I wish to
Steal looks at you
As you talk, not knowing that
I am adoring you.
thinking of you, then away, then back to you
it jerks and jabs
To think of you is to look upon
a newly opened gift
and delight in its pleasure again and again.
My mouth is tired
Tired from talking
Worn out from singing, laughing, smiling
Tired from kissing you
But I would die kissing you
I would kiss you if it killed me
Though it may be my end
I want to persue you
I want to know you
How divine I think you are
How I taste and retaste
The flavour of your memory in my mind
How very much I wish to
Steal looks at you
As you talk, not knowing that
I am adoring you.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
And so let us begin
There are going to be multiple posts about love, because of V Day, equal in its ominousity to D day. There will be many posts, like little flies, circling the excrement of V Day week.
Post One.
Poem One.
Isn't waiting for someone a way of being with him?
And so too is dreaming about him, thinking of him
Trying to manifest him here with the mere strength of your desire
These too are ways of being with him
He is completely unaware
Out there
Dressed plainly, scratching himself in thoughtless isolation
Whistling, eating food he hardly tastes
Drinking until he is doped enough for sleep
Lifting things and farting in his sleep
Him, out there
Is not the him I have here
caged in my mind.
But my minds him, well, he is always and forever here
So which of the two do I prefer?
You guessed it
My perfect, ordinary man
Who is as much like the real man as a suit is to its hanger.
So I wait
I wait, and at times it is the pleasantness of a train ride
a plane ride, a bus trip
The going to of a place like gentle foreplay
exquisit anticipation of the getting to.
At other times I am a tempest to my own mind
A swarthy savage and writhing tortured in my bed
Sheets gripped in fists and YEAH! I call out
In anguish I call out to the dumb chattels of my musty room
And my room it answers like this:
Pfft.
Because we all know
The empty space, the dark, the bed, the walls and all the dust and I,
We know
That I am sleeping with
In unequivocal love with
Have children and a long, happy future with
My perfect, ordinary, imaginery man
I have gotten all I ever dreamed of:
A dream.
Post One.
Poem One.
Isn't waiting for someone a way of being with him?
And so too is dreaming about him, thinking of him
Trying to manifest him here with the mere strength of your desire
These too are ways of being with him
He is completely unaware
Out there
Dressed plainly, scratching himself in thoughtless isolation
Whistling, eating food he hardly tastes
Drinking until he is doped enough for sleep
Lifting things and farting in his sleep
Him, out there
Is not the him I have here
caged in my mind.
But my minds him, well, he is always and forever here
So which of the two do I prefer?
You guessed it
My perfect, ordinary man
Who is as much like the real man as a suit is to its hanger.
So I wait
I wait, and at times it is the pleasantness of a train ride
a plane ride, a bus trip
The going to of a place like gentle foreplay
exquisit anticipation of the getting to.
At other times I am a tempest to my own mind
A swarthy savage and writhing tortured in my bed
Sheets gripped in fists and YEAH! I call out
In anguish I call out to the dumb chattels of my musty room
And my room it answers like this:
Pfft.
Because we all know
The empty space, the dark, the bed, the walls and all the dust and I,
We know
That I am sleeping with
In unequivocal love with
Have children and a long, happy future with
My perfect, ordinary, imaginery man
I have gotten all I ever dreamed of:
A dream.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
surfing and the thousandth broken heart
When you don't surf, it looks really cool. Really cool. Cool people, cool gears, cool tunes, hot chicks, hot dudes, lazy, sunny summer lifestyles, staying young, living forever, sunbleeched hair and tan toned bodies ... But when you start to do it, (I say this from the most limited of experiences) I mean, get a board and stop posing around in your boardies and start working your ass off trying to learn how it works and what to do, it intsantly isn't cool anymore.
It's not cool; It's the most beautiful, blissful obsession that taints every single day with it's brush and you wouldn't have it any other way.
It'd take me an hour or two to even begin describing the small overpowering awesome ways in which it gives you fullness in your heart (and I will) but for now i will briefly say, making it out through the white frothing dogs of white wash, ducking and catching it in the jaw, paddling til your arms are like molten lead burning at their centre, but you still gotta paddle four more strokes to make it to backline ... backline, where the world is still wtihout any human influence, nobody can stay there, and nothing can stay the same, it's just for now, sea undulating and you undulating gently on it, Lady Moana having slow aching orgasms, creating wave after wave for you to watch, each one perfect and like offspring with their own personalities and yet similar characteristics.
Seeing the set coming, turning, and paddling your fricken ASS off , getting the timing right so the wave scoops you up and is bolting like a wild horse, barely holding onto it's mane, a swarm of joyous players holding you above its head on moving shifting hands like the winning goal scorer in the soccer world cup yes? You are TEARING through the sky. Catapaulted on a this roaring 747 of seawater. It's kinda violent, It thumps you from every side, from underneath, spray whips you in the eyes. But it is wonderful. It makes me involuntarily scream, with joy and delight and it is right now and this is all there is and nothing could be any better. Now now now.
I am truely a beginner. I'm just learning about placing myself on the board and getting my feet through and i can get up but I teeter and fall off and wipe out. But if I caught it and rode it for five minutes to the shore, with a whole bunch of snazzy turns and jumps, I couldn't be having more fun. It couldn't be any more exciting or better than just being there.
And then you're in at the beach, and you might be tired, but the joy of that last wave turns you, picks up your board, and drives you back out into the sea.
Thats why I call it an obsession. The wave is your one true love, unparalleled in her beauty. When you are together, you are full and done, filled in and zipped up and expanding outwards, radiating, utterly big and painfully happy. And then she pushes you away and the ride is the most exhilerating thing, but once you are gone from her, you crave to immediately get back, to the honey centre, get back on the rollercoaster, because to be at the top, at the top looking down, riding it....You must have it. Always now you must seek it.
And it's HARD work. It's physically the hardest thing I have ever done (including running a half marathon, cycling, swimming, mountainbiking, rock climbing, and a 7hour triathlon). It is the ONLY activity I have ever done that makes me want to, completely, once and for all, never look back and stop smoking.
A smokers a smokers a smoker. Ask any smoker. And thats me.
Until last night when I thought I was going to drown and had an acute realisation of the space in my lungs being the direct line to my survival. Funny how thats taken 15 years.
I waited for my bro to finish work then we put the boards in the car and cruised out to Piha. I had been watching the surf cams all day and was gagging to be out there. it was meant to be 1-2ft. thats sweet words to me. big enough for fun small enough to learn.
We get there, it's drizzling, sun is just yawning stretching and thinking about retiring, we've got at least an hour to an hour and a half of light. we suit up and survey the waves, and decide to paddle out towards lions rock where they seem to be catching lots of sweet looking lefts.
Adri beats me to backline by a whole minute. I've got so much work to do. that night on the wines and a half a packet of cigarettes the other night are laughing at me like the devil with its claws around my chest.
I make it out and see straight away that, these are the biggest waves i've been in. I'd say i'ts 3ft. But waves aren't really measured in feet, when you're out there, they're measured in increments of fear. And these waves are, to me, scary. I can JUST handle them coming towards me. Just.
I catch one in, lose it, tumble, get hammered. muck around in the white water. paddle back out.
Get back out to backline and say to my bro, these are a little bit too big for me ahy.
"It's just water" he says. and i think, yeah, maybe i need to check my fear, it's only water.
The next set comes. They're huge. They're beautiful light green, being lit from behind by the lemon light of the sinking sun. But they are moving walls with a deep rumble emitting from their throats. I wait to see a lip form to know the power is abating, not growing, but it doesn't form, and the wave grows and grows gathering speed and power, louder and closer every split second. I turn and start paddling for it.
And i bloodywell make it. I'm right on top and this fucker is moving so goddam fast, I'd like to know how fast, but if you have been on a skateboard going downhill and it's too steep and your hanging on by your HOPE only? A bit like that.
I only have time to think: FUCK.
and then I am SPAT forward of this wave and into the churning bowels of it's fury.
Gollywog. Ragdoll. Boneless toy in the jaws of a ferocious remorseless giant. I am hurled forwards and backwards upside down twisting turning buckling. I am being Held Down.
I shoot my hands up and straight out as it is always my instinct to do, to find the air. And they don't reach it.
First moment of panic, cuz i need to be up outta here, now. I have my eyes wide open and it is light in the sea, I kick my feet down .. no ground.. I take two big breaststrokes as hard and strong as i can and hope this is UP ... but it isn't, or it is but i'm not out yet.
And right now, i need to breath right now. Remembering the fear of this brings tears to my eyes.
I'm fully paniccing now. And involuntarily my mouth opens and my body starts sucking in water needing it to be air but unable to differentiate, just sucking, sucking, I take the largest lungfuls of water into me. I reach down to undo the ankle strap connecting me to my board, because in my panic I associate it with my being trapped, but thank GOD I can't find my own leg in this death trap because my board is definately my BEST hope at getting out. And in that way you have lots of time to think when disastrous things are happening I think:
I'm going to drown. This happens. This happens to me. Today. Dad said swim in two's but it didn't help.
I think: Are there life guards? but it's going to be too late. I remeber my beautiful friend, ex and surf teacher saying to me: the only thing that makes it easy to not smoke is being held down by a set at Piha. And now i know now exactly what he means. My lungs just aren't big enough. I'm outta oxygen. This is it.
And then a few seconds after my brain is saying FUCKING EMERGENCY, miraculously I make it out. I could cry with relief but there isn't time because no more than two seconds later the second wave of this set Crashes into the sea right next to me and i'm down again.
I suck in as much air as I can as it takes me down and with it lots of water and i'm under again my mind crying NOOOOOO!!!!! I can't go down again, I won't make it.
This one doesn't take as long, but i'm already exhausted, I can't fight or swim or reach or do anything but flail. I'm kinda resigned to this now. I stop thinking. I feel my body lose it's strength and my mind go fizzy and darker with lack of oxygen and then I pop up and my board is right there and it takes all my strength to grab it and hold on and pull myself on, and then i make myself push out two big strokes towards the beach, and I don't know if I think it or say it but out comes: Get me out of here. I don't know if i'm talking to God, the board, or the sea. I just need rescuing. Anyone. Help. Now.
And the next wave is just that. It breaks more gently and I manage to stay up on the white water and it shuttles me back in. I lie on my board exhausted in less than a foot of water with my arms hanging and my hands dragging on the sand, as little wave after wave wash me closer and closer to shore. I just lie there.
I didn't drown.
I thought I was going to and I haven't.
And the next thing I think is, I look up to the hills, the land, beautiful solid earth, and i think, i'm getting out of here and i'm never getting back in. I don't care. Never.
I get to my shaky feet and my brother appears. He saw me paniccing and he saw me go down for a long time and he's come in to see if i'm okay. I'm like, i nearly drowned. He still doesn't really see the severity of the situation. He's like, i should stay with you, wanna paddle out with me? I laugh coldly. No, i'm going to stand here for awhile, then i might play in the shallows.
He says: it's alright.
But right now. It's not alright. I want it to be alright though. I don't want this to get the better of me. I feel stupid too. And I ache in my chest where my heart is hurting and miss my ex, badly, who taught me to surf and always takes care of me and wouldn't have let that happen to me...
Or maybe you can't stop that happening and everyone wipes out. Yeah. Everyone wipes out. Everyone gets held down....
Maybe it's time to take care of yourself now.
I realise, that this is a probably a really good learning experience. The words, get back on the horse, are going through my head. Get back on the horse. And i spend twenty minutes wading, inch by inch, back into the water. Fighting my fear and my instinct to run from danger.
Watching the waves with your eyes peeled and your heart in your ears, the way you would watch a big black crazed dog you were locked in a cellar with, who had just attached you and taken a big bite out of you but now seems to have settled down in the corner. You don't know. You can't trust it. But you can't go anywhere, so be smart and make small considered movements.
There's another chick in the surf with me and she's a few metres ahead and she's right, thats a good spot to catch the ones that break close and nice and gently but with power and practise our getting up on the board. I watch her and i'm so proud of her when she makes it up. Yeah go girl! Cuz it's hard being shit at this and taking it in the face.
So this is what I do. and in awhile i'm happy again. and i'm so happy im' still in the sea and this hasn't got the better of me. AND I have some major success getting both feet through and onto the centre of the board and standing!!!! yay!!!!!
I'm going to get the hang of this someday, I really am.
I get a chance to appreciate the most beautiful sunset, the sun is bright burnt peach, simmering in a sky of cornflower blue with soft ribbons of cloud, water colour streaks of pink and peach, the blue turning to lilac as night crawls up and the sun rapidly sinks.
I think of you, I wish you were here to see this with me. I want to tell you, I survived my first wipe out! I want your pride and your joy.
But with the thousandth broken heart I have to have this to myself and that be enough..
and just be grateful to you for getting me riding last summer and teaching me enough for me to be out here.
Relationships end but surfings forever ;)
NB. For the sake of my fragile human ego.. looking back.. those waves were at least as tall if not taller than the men riding them.. that makes them at least 5ft doesn't it?!... anyway, incremenets of FEAR!!!
:)
It's not cool; It's the most beautiful, blissful obsession that taints every single day with it's brush and you wouldn't have it any other way.
It'd take me an hour or two to even begin describing the small overpowering awesome ways in which it gives you fullness in your heart (and I will) but for now i will briefly say, making it out through the white frothing dogs of white wash, ducking and catching it in the jaw, paddling til your arms are like molten lead burning at their centre, but you still gotta paddle four more strokes to make it to backline ... backline, where the world is still wtihout any human influence, nobody can stay there, and nothing can stay the same, it's just for now, sea undulating and you undulating gently on it, Lady Moana having slow aching orgasms, creating wave after wave for you to watch, each one perfect and like offspring with their own personalities and yet similar characteristics.
Seeing the set coming, turning, and paddling your fricken ASS off , getting the timing right so the wave scoops you up and is bolting like a wild horse, barely holding onto it's mane, a swarm of joyous players holding you above its head on moving shifting hands like the winning goal scorer in the soccer world cup yes? You are TEARING through the sky. Catapaulted on a this roaring 747 of seawater. It's kinda violent, It thumps you from every side, from underneath, spray whips you in the eyes. But it is wonderful. It makes me involuntarily scream, with joy and delight and it is right now and this is all there is and nothing could be any better. Now now now.
I am truely a beginner. I'm just learning about placing myself on the board and getting my feet through and i can get up but I teeter and fall off and wipe out. But if I caught it and rode it for five minutes to the shore, with a whole bunch of snazzy turns and jumps, I couldn't be having more fun. It couldn't be any more exciting or better than just being there.
And then you're in at the beach, and you might be tired, but the joy of that last wave turns you, picks up your board, and drives you back out into the sea.
Thats why I call it an obsession. The wave is your one true love, unparalleled in her beauty. When you are together, you are full and done, filled in and zipped up and expanding outwards, radiating, utterly big and painfully happy. And then she pushes you away and the ride is the most exhilerating thing, but once you are gone from her, you crave to immediately get back, to the honey centre, get back on the rollercoaster, because to be at the top, at the top looking down, riding it....You must have it. Always now you must seek it.
And it's HARD work. It's physically the hardest thing I have ever done (including running a half marathon, cycling, swimming, mountainbiking, rock climbing, and a 7hour triathlon). It is the ONLY activity I have ever done that makes me want to, completely, once and for all, never look back and stop smoking.
A smokers a smokers a smoker. Ask any smoker. And thats me.
Until last night when I thought I was going to drown and had an acute realisation of the space in my lungs being the direct line to my survival. Funny how thats taken 15 years.
I waited for my bro to finish work then we put the boards in the car and cruised out to Piha. I had been watching the surf cams all day and was gagging to be out there. it was meant to be 1-2ft. thats sweet words to me. big enough for fun small enough to learn.
We get there, it's drizzling, sun is just yawning stretching and thinking about retiring, we've got at least an hour to an hour and a half of light. we suit up and survey the waves, and decide to paddle out towards lions rock where they seem to be catching lots of sweet looking lefts.
Adri beats me to backline by a whole minute. I've got so much work to do. that night on the wines and a half a packet of cigarettes the other night are laughing at me like the devil with its claws around my chest.
I make it out and see straight away that, these are the biggest waves i've been in. I'd say i'ts 3ft. But waves aren't really measured in feet, when you're out there, they're measured in increments of fear. And these waves are, to me, scary. I can JUST handle them coming towards me. Just.
I catch one in, lose it, tumble, get hammered. muck around in the white water. paddle back out.
Get back out to backline and say to my bro, these are a little bit too big for me ahy.
"It's just water" he says. and i think, yeah, maybe i need to check my fear, it's only water.
The next set comes. They're huge. They're beautiful light green, being lit from behind by the lemon light of the sinking sun. But they are moving walls with a deep rumble emitting from their throats. I wait to see a lip form to know the power is abating, not growing, but it doesn't form, and the wave grows and grows gathering speed and power, louder and closer every split second. I turn and start paddling for it.
And i bloodywell make it. I'm right on top and this fucker is moving so goddam fast, I'd like to know how fast, but if you have been on a skateboard going downhill and it's too steep and your hanging on by your HOPE only? A bit like that.
I only have time to think: FUCK.
and then I am SPAT forward of this wave and into the churning bowels of it's fury.
Gollywog. Ragdoll. Boneless toy in the jaws of a ferocious remorseless giant. I am hurled forwards and backwards upside down twisting turning buckling. I am being Held Down.
I shoot my hands up and straight out as it is always my instinct to do, to find the air. And they don't reach it.
First moment of panic, cuz i need to be up outta here, now. I have my eyes wide open and it is light in the sea, I kick my feet down .. no ground.. I take two big breaststrokes as hard and strong as i can and hope this is UP ... but it isn't, or it is but i'm not out yet.
And right now, i need to breath right now. Remembering the fear of this brings tears to my eyes.
I'm fully paniccing now. And involuntarily my mouth opens and my body starts sucking in water needing it to be air but unable to differentiate, just sucking, sucking, I take the largest lungfuls of water into me. I reach down to undo the ankle strap connecting me to my board, because in my panic I associate it with my being trapped, but thank GOD I can't find my own leg in this death trap because my board is definately my BEST hope at getting out. And in that way you have lots of time to think when disastrous things are happening I think:
I'm going to drown. This happens. This happens to me. Today. Dad said swim in two's but it didn't help.
I think: Are there life guards? but it's going to be too late. I remeber my beautiful friend, ex and surf teacher saying to me: the only thing that makes it easy to not smoke is being held down by a set at Piha. And now i know now exactly what he means. My lungs just aren't big enough. I'm outta oxygen. This is it.
And then a few seconds after my brain is saying FUCKING EMERGENCY, miraculously I make it out. I could cry with relief but there isn't time because no more than two seconds later the second wave of this set Crashes into the sea right next to me and i'm down again.
I suck in as much air as I can as it takes me down and with it lots of water and i'm under again my mind crying NOOOOOO!!!!! I can't go down again, I won't make it.
This one doesn't take as long, but i'm already exhausted, I can't fight or swim or reach or do anything but flail. I'm kinda resigned to this now. I stop thinking. I feel my body lose it's strength and my mind go fizzy and darker with lack of oxygen and then I pop up and my board is right there and it takes all my strength to grab it and hold on and pull myself on, and then i make myself push out two big strokes towards the beach, and I don't know if I think it or say it but out comes: Get me out of here. I don't know if i'm talking to God, the board, or the sea. I just need rescuing. Anyone. Help. Now.
And the next wave is just that. It breaks more gently and I manage to stay up on the white water and it shuttles me back in. I lie on my board exhausted in less than a foot of water with my arms hanging and my hands dragging on the sand, as little wave after wave wash me closer and closer to shore. I just lie there.
I didn't drown.
I thought I was going to and I haven't.
And the next thing I think is, I look up to the hills, the land, beautiful solid earth, and i think, i'm getting out of here and i'm never getting back in. I don't care. Never.
I get to my shaky feet and my brother appears. He saw me paniccing and he saw me go down for a long time and he's come in to see if i'm okay. I'm like, i nearly drowned. He still doesn't really see the severity of the situation. He's like, i should stay with you, wanna paddle out with me? I laugh coldly. No, i'm going to stand here for awhile, then i might play in the shallows.
He says: it's alright.
But right now. It's not alright. I want it to be alright though. I don't want this to get the better of me. I feel stupid too. And I ache in my chest where my heart is hurting and miss my ex, badly, who taught me to surf and always takes care of me and wouldn't have let that happen to me...
Or maybe you can't stop that happening and everyone wipes out. Yeah. Everyone wipes out. Everyone gets held down....
Maybe it's time to take care of yourself now.
I realise, that this is a probably a really good learning experience. The words, get back on the horse, are going through my head. Get back on the horse. And i spend twenty minutes wading, inch by inch, back into the water. Fighting my fear and my instinct to run from danger.
Watching the waves with your eyes peeled and your heart in your ears, the way you would watch a big black crazed dog you were locked in a cellar with, who had just attached you and taken a big bite out of you but now seems to have settled down in the corner. You don't know. You can't trust it. But you can't go anywhere, so be smart and make small considered movements.
There's another chick in the surf with me and she's a few metres ahead and she's right, thats a good spot to catch the ones that break close and nice and gently but with power and practise our getting up on the board. I watch her and i'm so proud of her when she makes it up. Yeah go girl! Cuz it's hard being shit at this and taking it in the face.
So this is what I do. and in awhile i'm happy again. and i'm so happy im' still in the sea and this hasn't got the better of me. AND I have some major success getting both feet through and onto the centre of the board and standing!!!! yay!!!!!
I'm going to get the hang of this someday, I really am.
I get a chance to appreciate the most beautiful sunset, the sun is bright burnt peach, simmering in a sky of cornflower blue with soft ribbons of cloud, water colour streaks of pink and peach, the blue turning to lilac as night crawls up and the sun rapidly sinks.
I think of you, I wish you were here to see this with me. I want to tell you, I survived my first wipe out! I want your pride and your joy.
But with the thousandth broken heart I have to have this to myself and that be enough..
and just be grateful to you for getting me riding last summer and teaching me enough for me to be out here.
Relationships end but surfings forever ;)
NB. For the sake of my fragile human ego.. looking back.. those waves were at least as tall if not taller than the men riding them.. that makes them at least 5ft doesn't it?!... anyway, incremenets of FEAR!!!
:)
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