Surfing

The weekend wasn't all conflict. I got to go surfing for the first time and I fell in love with it immediately. Moving with waves. Sometimes I was able to catch one and ride it out for a little while. Speed and motion always get me high. And when Mother Nature is providing them for free, they're even better. I wasn't always catching a free ride though. In fact, most of the time I was flying off my board head first into the turbulent sea. It must've looked pretty good, because when I finally got my feet on the sand and shook the water out of my head, people were giving me a big thumps-up.

I like floating out on the board, just watching the sea, waiting for a good wave. Surrounded by other surfers, like ducks in water, the scattered flock waits in silent meditation. Underneath vast blue skies, the steady sound of waves crashing on the beach, and rough cliffs of sand in the distance, ... waiting... floating... and then you see it... a big wave... you spin around with excitement, get on your stomach and start to paddle... if you're lucky... and the wave is right ... you'll feel it... you've caught it... and then you push up onto your feet and move around trying to get your balance. Maybe you will, maybe you won't, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're out there.

Anyway, here's a few pics from the weekend...

The view from our cabin:



After a long day of getting beat-up by the waves:



Newport Bay:



The birthday boy:

Rogue Nation

I went to the coast last weekend with some friends. I was already a little leery of the whole thing, because I knew it involved renting a cabin and a lot of other things that would equate to more money than I make in a week. But it was to celebrate a good friend’s birthday, so I figured what the hell.

Josh picks me up. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but he’s pretty cool. As we’re driving along, we find out that we’re supposed to meet the rest of the gang at the Rogue Brewery. Great. The Rogue Brewery is an overpriced bar-restaurant- brewery-whatever that relies more on it’s name and image than anything that has to do with reality. It does have good beer, but I can find lot’s of good beer for less than $4 a pint. And that’s the best thing I can say about the place.

Anyway, that’s where we’re meeting. Fine. I already know I’m going to spend more money on this weekend than I’d like, and everyone else wants to go to the brewery. So, I keep my opinions to myself.

Once we’re all at the table, the waitress comes up and takes our beer orders. Right away she asks if we’re Rogue Nation members. A few people at our table say yes, but a bunch of us say no. “Well, we can take care of that,” she says, “Order your stuff for now and I’ll take your pictures later on. We’ll get you all set-up.” She doesn’t even ask if we want to become members. It’s a foregone conclusion. I don’t say anything. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.

To be part of the Rogue Nation, you just need to get your picture taken and have it placed in an ID that pledges your allegiance to the establishment. Then you get fifty-cents off drinks. I hate scams like this. I’d rather avoid the place altogether, and when that’s not possible, pay extra.

Anyway, our beers come and they’re good - no denying that. Then our food comes. I opted for the cheapest thing that would fill my appetite – a burger and fries. The burger looks like something out of a fast food joint and I can count the number of fries on my plate by just looking at it. Nobody else’s dish looks much better. I just eat and don’t say a word.

After while, the waitress comes back. “Are you all OK here? Do you need anything?” she asks. We all say no. “OK. Well, I’m going on break. When I’m done, I’ll bring the camera back and we’ll get you all signed-up.” Before I even have a chance to think about it, I say, “I don’t want to be part of the Rogue Nation.”

Everybody’s shocked. “Why not?” someone at the table asks. There’s no way I can answer this question and win. There’s no way I can tell them that I refuse to join any nation if I can help it. That nations breed loyalty and loyalty to any organization breeds ignorance. There’s no way I can tell them that this whole Rogue Nation thing is a marketing ploy to breed customer loyalty. There’s no way I can tell them that they’re all being duped. And there’s no way I can tell them how much I hate this place. The food sucks, everything is overpriced, and the owner is most likely some greedy little man that’s lost sight of what’s really important in the world. There’s no way I can explain all of this in a few simple sentences without insulting everybody and making them all feel defensive. So I just say, “I just don’t want to join, that’s all.”

“What? Are you too good for the Rogue Nation?” I hear someone at my table say.
They are insulted.

“You think you’re too good to be part of the Rogue Nation? You’re too cool?” someone else says.
They are defensive.

“I am cool, but that has nothing to do with why I don’t want to join,” I reply trying to laugh it off.

Then Josh says, “he’s not a joiner.” But he’s not saying it in an insulting way – at least, I don’t think he is. He says it more in a way like he knows where I’m coming from. So, I give him a “you got it” nod.

The commotion settles and the waitress walks away. But it’s not over yet. “That was mean,” Aura says, “I think you hurt her feelings.” Great. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just didn’t want to join the damn Rogue Nation. Why’s that so fucking complicated?

Later, in between playing pool, I come up to the waitress when she’s at the table. “Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you,” I tell her. She starts saying something. I don’t recall what exactly, but it’s obvious she is offended and it’s obvious there’s nothing I can say that’s going to change it. She walks away and everybody at the table starts giving me shit again. “I’m sorry,” I say. Then I think about it for a second. “No, I’m not sorry. I don’t give a shit. I just don’t want to join the Rogue Nation, that's all.” And I walk back to the pool table without waiting for a response.

Tags:
Rogue,
Nation

Sunrise at the Butte

A Dream

Here’s a dream for all you arm-chair psychologists and dream analysts…

There was the end of the night and this guy roller skating on a stage. He only used one skate. He kept the other leg pulled up at the knee as he gliding along the stage with a big silly grin on his face – back and forth, round and round. You could tell he wasn’t all there. At least not in the sense that most of us are. He was kind of oblivious to his surroundings.

Earlier in the night we had been at some crowded dance club. There was me, but it wasn’t me. I often have dreams like this. Like I’m playing a role in a movie, or somebody else is playing me. There’s this level of separation. I mean, there I am: “I”, the player, the role, the actor; but there I am: the dreamer, the director, the observer, not the player all at the same time. It’s weird, but it’s kind of cool.

Anyway, there was me (or somebody like me), the skater, and a girl. The girl was my date. We were dancing and watching the skater guy. Only he didn’t have his skate on at this point and he was using both legs. He still had that silly grin though, and he was dancing in quirky, jerky moves like an uncoordinated white-boy. Now if he was trying to be cool and impress anyone (or gave a shit what anyone else thought) it would’ve been embarrassing, but he wasn’t. He was just doing his own thing, having a good time. You could see it in his face. He didn’t care if he was dancing like a fool, because he didn’t know that he was. He was the greatest dancer in the world. The girl and I watched him and laughed. Not in the look-at-that-idiot kind of way, but more in the look-at-that-guy-…-cool kind of way.

A whole bunch of stuff went on. My dream merged into other dreams, other scenes, and other people. It was nothing that would make sense to the conscious mind, but at the end of it all, it was just me and the skater. We were in a some kind of night club. Not the dancing kind, but the performance kind – with a stage. It had a spacious, darkly lit lounge with a bunch of round, tables facing the stage. Each table had a soft, flickering candle in the middle and was surrounded by plush, leather seats, but they were all of empty. All except for one – the one I sat in. The skater and I were the only ones in the place. Me in the audience, him on the stage.

The solo skater glided back and forth on the stage like a swan. Only now he didn’t seem happy or cool. Now, behind the smile, he seemed lonely and sad.

Tags: dreams

Drive

by Incubus

Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear
And I can't help but ask myself how much
I'll let the fear take the wheel and steer.
It's driven me before, and it seems to have a vague,
haunting mass appeal.
But lately I'm beginning to find that I
should be the one behind the wheel.

Whatever tomorrow brings,
I'll be there with open arms and open eyes, Yeah
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there..I'll be there.

So, if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive
Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?
Aah-ah-oo-o-o.

It's driven me before and it seems to be the way
that everyone else gets around.
But lately I'm beginning to find that when
I drive myself my light is found.

Whatever tomorrow brings,
I'll be there with open arms and open eyes, Yeahhh
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there...I'll be there.

Would you choose water over wine....hold the wheel and drive?

Whatever tomorrow brings,
I'll be there with open arms and open eyes, Yeah
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there..I'll be there.

Tags: lyrics, Incubus

Spider Web

Spider web, spider web
littered with yesterday's corpses
everything flutters in the wind.

Your time will come
and the winds of change will tear you down.