24.5.09
22.5.09
Soon.
Got one in. Another one going out.
Headed to vegas on Tuesday. Lady C interviews new job Tuesday. Her and the "Bear" son2, come up on Wednesday.
Hooo Boy. 2 more days Pink, 1 Fire, and vacay for me.
Headed to vegas on Tuesday. Lady C interviews new job Tuesday. Her and the "Bear" son2, come up on Wednesday.
Hooo Boy. 2 more days Pink, 1 Fire, and vacay for me.
16.5.09
Vagrant Optimisim*
* Yeah, yeah, Hunter S.
There was this one surf session not long ago. Myself and another had staked out the early morning dawnie for a surf. The surf was forecast to rise a bit, but as history has shown, the forecasters are always predicting shit, and turning out over hyping it.
The present swell, while not large, was indeed bigger than average but not consequence days surf. No doubt, just go out. We had just invaded the oceans pristine glass for less than a half and hour. Pacific blues and morning sunstreaks of gold and reds were pretty much inflating the stoke of these 2 mere beings in Neptunes playfield.
A couple of pretty good waves and I had assumed the mindset of a cocky bastard; tempting the fate of the jealous and the selfish. Again; it wasnt huge, it was well, just right, big but not survival mode.
I think I have spoken of the way the horizon looks at times. Anyway, it does this thing where the whole edge of the planet seems closer, and it is. Incoming swells tend to give the freakish illusion of that horizon line being closer. And at this time, it most certainly was. Knowing that a possible large set was looming on that ever closing horizon, I paddled with that same "Aw shit, gotta go further out, and I was so comfortable right here" bullshit fuck-wad attitude that permeates the cocksure gunslinger right before he is shot thru the head.
The first lump of ocean was now walling up well ahead of my labored pace. I increased the stroke, but good old Mom Ocean set her tides and currents right in my line so that 2 strokes gained jack-shit. Enjoy that cocky - boy I am sure she muttered under salt-fused breath. I dug harder. I crested that problem still with the attitude that I was indeed tha master of this morning, and that I was indeed infallible in my knowledge and preparation for watery combat.
Fool.
After cresting that mass of the Pacific, my eyes probably widened quite to saucer size as what I saw in front of me was on e very large, very long, wall of water, that I was no way or how going to make over, or get in front of.
I was gonna get humbled, seriously.
In the next few spasms of thought, I tried hard to relax my brain from going into total fucking fried-out mush mode and screaming for mommy. For the most part it worked. The problem was is that that small period of thought was enough to de-rail any chance of catching a real deep breath before the humbling was to begin.
Spanked good, spanked well.
The first impact of white water isnt so bad if you are in the right place; you can duck-dive and pretty much not lose ground to attempt to get to the outside of the sets/waves. Waves come in sets. Sets are series of waves, and tend to be grouped in 3,4, 5 or so. really, any amount.
This set was going to go on for awhile, but as yet I wasnt on the mailing list.
Getting pummeled in the wrong place, the wrong time, was my date. I lost ground badly, which meant for whatever next waves were coming, I was going to be in even worse position. Great.
It became a paddle, paddle, take a deep mofo breath, dive, get thrashed. Paddle, paddle, (Fuckin air, isnt there more?) dive, get thrashed. Repeat again, and again. It seemed that this barrage of waves was never ending, I was at a count of 10, and the damn horizon was still dark with ocean matter headed towards me. So much for cocky.
No way out, no where to respite. No more cocky; thats for sure. Humbled and spent, and fucking taught a lesson -
Throw it at you; paddle, breath, dive, forge on; you can master anything.
But be humble.
There was this one surf session not long ago. Myself and another had staked out the early morning dawnie for a surf. The surf was forecast to rise a bit, but as history has shown, the forecasters are always predicting shit, and turning out over hyping it.
The present swell, while not large, was indeed bigger than average but not consequence days surf. No doubt, just go out. We had just invaded the oceans pristine glass for less than a half and hour. Pacific blues and morning sunstreaks of gold and reds were pretty much inflating the stoke of these 2 mere beings in Neptunes playfield.
A couple of pretty good waves and I had assumed the mindset of a cocky bastard; tempting the fate of the jealous and the selfish. Again; it wasnt huge, it was well, just right, big but not survival mode.
I think I have spoken of the way the horizon looks at times. Anyway, it does this thing where the whole edge of the planet seems closer, and it is. Incoming swells tend to give the freakish illusion of that horizon line being closer. And at this time, it most certainly was. Knowing that a possible large set was looming on that ever closing horizon, I paddled with that same "Aw shit, gotta go further out, and I was so comfortable right here" bullshit fuck-wad attitude that permeates the cocksure gunslinger right before he is shot thru the head.
The first lump of ocean was now walling up well ahead of my labored pace. I increased the stroke, but good old Mom Ocean set her tides and currents right in my line so that 2 strokes gained jack-shit. Enjoy that cocky - boy I am sure she muttered under salt-fused breath. I dug harder. I crested that problem still with the attitude that I was indeed tha master of this morning, and that I was indeed infallible in my knowledge and preparation for watery combat.
Fool.
After cresting that mass of the Pacific, my eyes probably widened quite to saucer size as what I saw in front of me was on e very large, very long, wall of water, that I was no way or how going to make over, or get in front of.
I was gonna get humbled, seriously.
In the next few spasms of thought, I tried hard to relax my brain from going into total fucking fried-out mush mode and screaming for mommy. For the most part it worked. The problem was is that that small period of thought was enough to de-rail any chance of catching a real deep breath before the humbling was to begin.
Spanked good, spanked well.
The first impact of white water isnt so bad if you are in the right place; you can duck-dive and pretty much not lose ground to attempt to get to the outside of the sets/waves. Waves come in sets. Sets are series of waves, and tend to be grouped in 3,4, 5 or so. really, any amount.
This set was going to go on for awhile, but as yet I wasnt on the mailing list.
Getting pummeled in the wrong place, the wrong time, was my date. I lost ground badly, which meant for whatever next waves were coming, I was going to be in even worse position. Great.
It became a paddle, paddle, take a deep mofo breath, dive, get thrashed. Paddle, paddle, (Fuckin air, isnt there more?) dive, get thrashed. Repeat again, and again. It seemed that this barrage of waves was never ending, I was at a count of 10, and the damn horizon was still dark with ocean matter headed towards me. So much for cocky.
No way out, no where to respite. No more cocky; thats for sure. Humbled and spent, and fucking taught a lesson -
Throw it at you; paddle, breath, dive, forge on; you can master anything.
But be humble.
14.5.09
A billion hours to go....
Heart warming family photo....Prolly what my MIL thinks of me and hers up-coming trip to Vegas
MIL & BIL
We have till 26th to not lose my mind with work. On duty Sunday (17th) work every day up to Kaleo's 3rd B-day (!!!!!!!) on the 24th.
Water.
Need water.
So thirsty.
MIL & BILWe have till 26th to not lose my mind with work. On duty Sunday (17th) work every day up to Kaleo's 3rd B-day (!!!!!!!) on the 24th.
Water.
Need water.
So thirsty.
7.5.09
Sensational Shoes
The grandkeiki have colds. Not swinefluish; but colds none the less. It is a funny thing to watch whirling dervishes slow to a lava flow crawl. Although the mass destruction of the islands has been put on hold, the tag team combination of thing1 and thing2 still manage a respectible amount of vehicular dings and dongs on each other and the rest of us.
The magical thing about colds is how they take the whole caffine high of childhood and turn them into slow growing mold. They had a couple of days out in the high heat of early summer; at the beach and at the backyard playground. Sunscreened and watered down; they still do a pretty good impression of lobster. Not a complaint from them, as heavy slatherings of Aloe lotion (the BEST damn stuff when sunburnt; I do say) cooled the 2 off apres bath.
There is something to be said of childhood in Hawaii. Well, there are probably alot of things, but I'll stick to some of the things that ran thru my noggin when they were in mellow mode. The sensation of barefeet; wandering around and about through the thorns of Kiawe Trees, the enveloping crush of those same piggies wading in hot sand ever destined for the cool blue Pacific. The squeak of wet barefeet on ceramic floors; the infernal yell from adults that comes from wetting tiles.
Hot asphalt. The hummingbird like dance that is done to get across hot asphalt.
Vana. Vana is sea urchin. Sea Urchin thorns get embeded in your flesh below the surface. You get to go home and dig them out. Or you can have some one pee on your feet. (Bullshit; it doesnt work, it still gotta be dug out) *IDEA! New torture technique! ... Off track, again.
Any way, the sensational shoes permant to the legs of the 2 went with the old guy for a walk around the block, and sick or not, tired and hot, they still make me so glad to be with them. The world view from 2 feet nothing is so simple, beautiful and strange. Huge; closeted and immense. Just add some water.
And watch the flowers grow.
Aloha.
The magical thing about colds is how they take the whole caffine high of childhood and turn them into slow growing mold. They had a couple of days out in the high heat of early summer; at the beach and at the backyard playground. Sunscreened and watered down; they still do a pretty good impression of lobster. Not a complaint from them, as heavy slatherings of Aloe lotion (the BEST damn stuff when sunburnt; I do say) cooled the 2 off apres bath.
There is something to be said of childhood in Hawaii. Well, there are probably alot of things, but I'll stick to some of the things that ran thru my noggin when they were in mellow mode. The sensation of barefeet; wandering around and about through the thorns of Kiawe Trees, the enveloping crush of those same piggies wading in hot sand ever destined for the cool blue Pacific. The squeak of wet barefeet on ceramic floors; the infernal yell from adults that comes from wetting tiles.
Hot asphalt. The hummingbird like dance that is done to get across hot asphalt.
Vana. Vana is sea urchin. Sea Urchin thorns get embeded in your flesh below the surface. You get to go home and dig them out. Or you can have some one pee on your feet. (Bullshit; it doesnt work, it still gotta be dug out) *IDEA! New torture technique! ... Off track, again.
Any way, the sensational shoes permant to the legs of the 2 went with the old guy for a walk around the block, and sick or not, tired and hot, they still make me so glad to be with them. The world view from 2 feet nothing is so simple, beautiful and strange. Huge; closeted and immense. Just add some water.
And watch the flowers grow.
Aloha.
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