few things I’ve learned

from my perspective

  • situations are rarely what they seem
  • most things we hold dear a trifles
  • work done with my own hands is tangible
  • the Interwebs is entertaining, and mostly a waste of time
  • surfing is riding waves – nothing more
  • family and personal relationships are more important than most other things

over the last five or six years blogging has been an amazing creative outlet. but I’m coming to realize that I use any creative spurts on blogs, and when I sit to write something longer I’ve spent my bullets and shoot blanks.

good things take time, work and honesty. so I’ll be focusing on just that.

in the meantime I’ll be surfing as much as I can, playing with the kid, and working on the house with my B as we prepare for the new one to arrive.

to the few of you who stop in, I hope you take care, kiss your loved ones, cook some good food, and get outta the house this winter and feel the cold on your cheeks.

time is always moving swiftly and well we just can’t rewind.

thanks for reading.

 

one

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in health, identity | 8 Comments

transmission interruption

being that I’m a donkey sometimes, I find myself inna place for action -real visceral action. having been unemployed for most the year, I’ve come to an impasse. I will be taking a little time off the interwebs and this space to focus on non-virtual activities. things like, knocking on prospective employers doors, calling contacts, and so on. you know the drill, if you’ve been without gainful employment for some time as I have.

for the half dozen (power of positive thinking in play) of you who come here regularly, please accept my apologies for lack of content in the next little while. rest assured that I shall return as soon as I can. in the meantime, go surf, or skate, or run, or cook. go kiss you kid and your lover. I plan on doing these things too.

life is for the living.

even if you are a donkey.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in health, ras photo | 9 Comments

#prose: Brooklyn remembered

watching from a afar, like window shopping with empty coffers, I see it all slide by. once a participant, now a voyeur. life can be measured in many ways. we measure from within as they measure from without. the numbers never match. the bookie is out and can’t be reached. so I walk down to the corner store to buy a single cigarette. the guy behind the counter informs me that “well we just don’t sell ‘em like that any longer.” I get the idea.

down the street is a pub where I may, if I’m lucky, have enough cash for a cheap draft and a cigarette off the bartender. they always smoke when they work in shit holes. I look around and take in the scene. it’s a regulars kind of place. one guy brings his hound of Baskerville in with him. maybe he thinks an equally horrid drunken skirt will take a liking to his giant mutt. it stares at me with watery eyes and licks it’s chops as I sip my beer. I’m disgusted and amazed that anyone would allow such an animal into their establishment. I reckon it says something about the place.

I get the hell outta there before the feeling of that first beer hits my head and I realize I have no money to buy another. I forgot to ask the bartender for a smoke. so I meander along the avenue fronting the dirty river that separates old from new. on that side billions of dollars are made or stolen. on this side the trickle down effect is sensed as trust funded scenesters and hipsters lounge in caffe’s wearing mismatched styles simply because they can. bad tattoos are the sign of commitment to the lifestyle. for fucks sake. what am I doing here?

oh yes I have a key in my pocket. I have to catch the bus over by the subway station. take it a few blocks east then north. I have a key. my pockets are empty besides this key.

keys can be had and measurements may be taken. but watchers are not participants. they don’t pass go and they don’t get the prize. instead they tally on the wall beside their cold beds the days that pass without incident, or accident, or even an event on any kind. a tally of wasted days, hours, minutes. the keys don’t open that lock of steel and concrete. it takes something else all together. if only I had one cigarette.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity, prose | Leave a comment

surfin is fun: knost, dane, droid and alex gray

shoots. RT does it again with an edit to remind us that surfing is fucken fun man. ride whatever the hell you want. ride whatever waves are at hand. pull into closeouts. laugh with your friends. laugh at yourself. what else is there?

if don’t know RT, now you know.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in social commentary, surf | Leave a comment

#identity part VI: this is it

summer comes to an end and so does the time spent hanging off ladders with brush and paint helping Picasso work on his livable canvases. what now?

there was a time when I was naively carefree. I would go about my days without any intentionality and never felt like something was amis. those days are gone. the carefree meandering through days and weeks is still there. but the mongrel gnawing at my conscience is telling me that time is not to be squandered without regret.

from an early age I rejected religion. literally. I was asked to stop coming to Sunday school in junior high. the wonderful volunteer teacher felt threatened by my incessant questioning of the rhetoric and felt afraid that I’d make doubters of the rest of the flock.

somehow I eventually learned about Buddhist philosophy. and I suppose that some of Hindu thought and Japanese Zazen have fostered similar patterns in my thought lines. I’ve concluded that a pluralistic society is what we live in and that the myth of a morally evolutionary humanity is akin to that of the American Dream – if you work hard enough you get the reward. absurd at best.

it is what it is.

as simple as this sentence is I find it brilliant every time I write it. we can quickly over complicate things as trivial as a morning coffee.

some of our determination to find consternation in the banality of life comes from a lack of living; a sense of not knowing what it means to subsist -to satisfy your primal need for food, safety and shelter.

Thoreau knew this when he wrote about Walden Pond in the 1850′s – prior to the industrial revolution and without an inkling about the population expansion and subsequent degradation of our ecosystem that would come in the next 150 years.

about our ‘things’ that we cherish and toil long hours for he had this to say:

“Most of the luxuries and many of the so-called comforts of life are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.”

I suppose Thoreau believed in the possibility for an evolution of mankind. and I think he meant a moral evolution, one where egalitarian values and a reverence for our environment would trump the pursuit of wealth accumulation. he was wrong.

the democritization of comunocations has made it so that we exist in a global community, with information about most corners of our world a simple search engine query away. but do we live in a global community or do we live in our own immediate community? environmentalists and humanists would argue that it is global. that we should all strive for often arbitrary goals, supported by scientific evidence, waiting to be discredited by new scientific evidence.

I aks you this – is not love, compassion and friendship still meaningful? if you say yes then the beauty is that we can find those values in our local communities. the same way that we cannot control the coming and going of ice ages, we cannot control the growth and repercussions of the human race. but we can enjoy our existence in the space and time we find ourselves. and that is as simple as making the choice to do so.

I’ve often had people tell me that I am very lucky for having something I am infinitely passionate about -surfing. I think they have misjudged. I am infinitely passionate about living. I want to feel with all my senses. I want to love with all of my energies the way my kid and my dog love me. I want to see how far my own faculties, my blood and guts and tendons, and my intellect can take me. but not for the purpose of wealth accumulation or social status, but because I am infinitely amazed by the things I can learn to do and overcome.

I am here right now.

this is it.

the future does not exist.

the past cannot be relived.

this is it.

********************************************************************************************************************

 

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity, culture, ego, identity, prose, social commentary | 7 Comments

#GYPSOPHILLIA and grit

I once took a guitar lesson from a guitar player of Halifax based Gypsophilia. in a small cramped room filled mostly with a piano along with an assortment of music related paraphernalia, we talked about reggae and dub for most of my lesson. at the end he gave me a disk with a dozen or more guitar instruction manuals and urged me to go home and practice. I paid the meager lesson fee and walked out a bit awed and bewildered. that was a few years ago.

some lessons are harder learned than others. that was a hella lesson in simplicity, grit, and passion. I can only imagine how many hours this guy spent alone in his room learning to play Django Reinhardt -while I chicken scratched and fucked around daydreaming of playing guitar.

you do, or you don’t.
simple.

here’s another gem from Southern Souls as I continue this recent bent on Halifax bands.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in DIY, ego, halifax, music, social commentary | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

style: David Choe

the incomparable David Choe. he is easily one of the best artists of his generation.

I copied all images from Choe’s website. for more on Choe go here and here.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in culture | Leave a comment

#interview

I have an interview this week for a job like one of my favourite writers used to have. so I thought it’d be good to quote from his novel Post Office. this one is loaded with implications about our dull lives of tryin to make it.

“The streets were full of insane and dull people. Most of them lived in nice houses and didn’t seem to work, and you wondered how they did it.”

 

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity | Tagged | 2 Comments

DeLuxe No. 20 and cliffside peelers

I find myself plying the depths of a sunday afternoon for something worthy of holdin onto. meantime Moe digs the old Roller Derby DeLuxe No.20 outta the closet and starts surfing. the clay wheels on the old oak floors frighten me but he seems to have a sense of the danger he’s into so I let him play on.

yesterday was a good day. I walked out over the swamp inna sea of bright orange. the pond fronting the ocean was still as death. it glowed with the orange first light, the sun yet to pop outta the sea. the cobbles were cold and dewey. I unsheathed my 9’6″ and carefully made my way to shore, paddling out through a channel and over to the reef break.

a shortboard wave by local standards, I felt a bit intimated taking my log out there. I feared stink eyes and grumpy stares from the guys on boards too small for the fading swell. after a few I stopped thinking about it and focused instead on swinging the nose around and setting trim before the low tide step at the bottom of the wave swept the board out from under me.

the left was short but steeper, with a tail holding form for stading on the nose. the board would stay high on the wave, giving me the feeling of being perched atop a much bigger wave than it was -and a few times slipping and sliding down the face only to feel it catch again and speed down the line towards the cliff’s edge.

the right, faster and moving quickly into shallow water. I’d stay low with left hand ready to pull up my rail and slide my right foot forward to power through the frothy sections.

riding a longboard in mediocre waves makes it so that waves feel like good waves. I’m puzzled sometimes by the time I’ve spent trying to ride performance shortboards in waves illsuited for the design.

when I was learning to surf I would often share waves with a father and son. they were both tall, overly tanned and thin. and they wore gold chains. the son musta been a teenager and the dad in his 40′s. they rode longboards which in the 90′s wasn’t considered cool. they took me under their wing and I learned a lot from watching them paddle into waves, never wearing leashes, and with clean minimalist styling. I wonder where they are now and if they’d remember me – a kook from the organe groves trying to learn to surf. they’d likely laugh at me for still kookin out on perfect peelers, just like the old days.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in ego, prose, surf | Leave a comment

PS I Love You

I thought I’d add this worthy reply from R. the Mountain Goats

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in music | 1 Comment

sun is shinning, weather is sweet

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in reggae | Leave a comment

enjoy the momentary rain

today -a deluge. our basement wet in that low corner where the hill meets the high side of the house.

out at the seaside it was all wind and a foggy mist.

Picasso and I added the last few strokes to the livable canvas. the finished piece a cornucopia of colour like south coast Jamaica. meanwhile outside all was rain and grey.

I don’t mind the rain. I like the rain. and rainy afternoons. and a band called COUSINS that happens to be from here in Halifax. it’s two people – a girl and a boy melding their minds and passion to create short moments in song. here is one for today’s mood.

tomorrow Picasso and I will climb tall ladders to finish painting the eyes of the livable canvas. but not before we enter the turbulent ocean, which will surely be running red with the bloody mud from the drumlins. mounds of mud left behind by ancient glaciers – a reminder that the earth warming and cooling is nothing new. a reminder that my brief moments are like a passing fruit fly on a summer afternoon. quickly forgotten. often unnoticed. but I must take heed and enjoy. for what else is there but pleasure and pain?

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity, halifax, music, prose | 1 Comment

draw bad card

rain washes away a summers grime off the streets and into the harbour. out in the open ocean a swell is rising with the sun. through the mist and rain I can see the Tufts Cove red and white towers. they stand there like sentinels watching for the new ships which will soon be exiting the harbour. the cold will return with a vengeance for summer’s warmth. but we steady ourselves and look towards the horizon with steely eyes and a whole heap of grit. even if I draw a bad card, I will play my hand.

“yuh haffi tired fi see we face”

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in random, reggae | 1 Comment

#poem: imma gonna paint a house tomorrow morning

you know how everyone always says
that every action has a reaction,
that you gotta know there are consequences
for your actions

sometimes you put your head down
and think
-fuck the consequences

sometimes the consequences
come with long
repercussions.
like aftershocks
after the big quake

I still don’t know what will become
of some decisions I made
that turned horribly sour

but I know this:

not all was lost,
something was gained

and metaphorical implications
aside
Imma gonna paint
a house
tomorrow morning
clean and fresh
like today’s memories

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in poetry | Leave a comment

jettisoned by the “rocket queen”

was painting with Picasso today. we sat atop a bluff overlooking a blustery ocean. with wind gusts upwards of 30 knotts outta the south, the ocean looked as welcoming as a bed of nails. to make light of the situation, Picasso ran us through some music of yore.

Glenn Danzig carried us for a while through some tortured Misfits tunes. Satan bless Glenn Danzig.

before that we listened to G-n-R for a while – the entire Appetite record. Rocket Queen in particular really struck me and left me with a deep emotion…

…it wasn’t happiness, or sadness, or loss. rather it was one of uncertainty. I wanted to run the fuck outta there. but to where?

I can’t quite pinpoint it. at the time when I listened to this a lot I was a teenager as well as a fairly new immigrant attempting to assimilate. I chose to do so as a skateboarder in a shit small country town where skateboarding was akin to worshiping the devil himself. assimilation would prove to be a daunting task. I would eventually flee that country.

so I leave you with this song. most of you likely won’t bother with it and I appreciate that. for some of my generation it may spring some emotions in you. music has some serious fucking power sometimes. one song made me question my entire identity this afternoon.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity, music, social commentary | Tagged | 2 Comments

style: the pompadour

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in culture, style | 1 Comment

blue hues and silver linings

under gray skies, I painted. first silver. the eaves. the fascia. silver specks covered my face. my hands looked like the tin mans’. but I had heart. so I climbed up the forty foot ladder. a gust of wind blew leaves in the parking lot below. I felt a tinge of my fear of heights come to me. but I steadied, dipped the brush in silver and cleaned one side. with a steady stroke I cut along the line where blue and silver met, carefully not touching blue – a clean line.

passersby commented. everyone is a critic on the street. I climbed down with silver in hand. the ladder resting high above was easy to climb, and easy to descend. I moved it to the left. then I climbed back up with solid footing. my old shoes worn thin and perfect to feel each rung. climb. cut. descend. move. climb. cut. descend. move.

the gray skies threatened rain. but these days we trust our meteorologists. 7 p.m. they said. the showers will begin.

after silver came blue. I cut in like bushwacking. careful to avoid those errors that leave a stain. blue. like regret not like sky. the older blue beneath the new fading to clean and shiny. all new. the cycle went through the paces again.

climb. cut. descend. move. climb. cut. descend. move.

now the finishing touch. a roller absorbs the paint and with a deft touch can make a worn wall fresh. paint away the soiled blue. seasons have passed the old wall leaving chips, mold, grime and seagull shit. but after today it will be new. that’s what we always want no? new. blue.

clean up and pack up. people passing by comment. “what a nice job.”

“thank you.”

“wish you didn’t block the lot.”

with head down I finish tidying up. no mistakes no stains.

everyone is a critic.

tomorrow we begin again.

we’ll make old new. we’ll disappear mold and grime with a wave of a hand. with a simple brush. a simple tool.

but beneath the hue all will be the same. not much changes.

most things remain the same.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in prose | 2 Comments

change begets opportunity

recently I was asked if I felt like my writing was moving forward. while I replied with an answer at the time, the question lingers and I can’t help but wonder if perhaps I am indeed stuck.

the thing is, creativity requires a few things to come together. adversity, whether internal or external, is a driving force for creativity. time is the other important ingredient. there’s a reason why writers like Hamsun and Fante starved for weeks on end in between getting paid for their work – often going through bouts of self loathing and hallucinations. but getting a job washing dishes to buy food was outta the question. same goes for Bukowski – he didn’t write a whole lot while working for the US Postal Service. time begets

I’m not making excuses. I’m simply making an observation. I have the passion to get things down on paper. I have some ideas and over the years I’ve developed a little bit of dexterity with words. but to really crack into my own identity as a writer, I would need to have more time. internal adversity I have in spades.

perhaps the blog format has run its course. and the question that started this is opportunity knocking. if I used the time I spend on Ku Yah to work on something longer, more thoughtful, come committed, I may end up with something more thoughtful, longer than a couple paragraphs, and something worth something.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in ego, prose | 6 Comments

#lifekook 1.0

life kook: 1. lifetime ‘fail’ surfer poser -I.E. “wow look at that guy’s whack style. he’s totally a life kook.” 2. one who never makes the takeoff on a set wave- though he always paddles “to the top.” 3. one who posts a video of himself, riding his home-shaped board, and thinks it’s cool.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity, surf | 5 Comments

loggin is for pu$$ies

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in surf | 3 Comments

a sad day for surf writing: @Rottmouth quits

Blasphemy Rottmouth has posted his final thoughts in the form of an interview. Why was his blog important to surfing? The following passage sums it up:

If you could sum up Independent Blogging in the surfing world with a few words, what would they be?

Andy Irons. Simple. The handling (or mishandling) of that story by the Established Surf Media represents EVERY SINGLE reason I started commenting at PostSurf and ended up with my own Blog.

perhaps the biggest part about his writing that I’ll miss is the social critique about modern society. Blasphemy Rottmouth often used competitive surfing as a metaphor for our shallow and absurd consumer-based society.

you can read more here. And here is an interview I did with Rottmouth.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in absurdity, culture, prose, social commentary, surf | 2 Comments

three Canadian surf films from #CSFF2011

first up is Dean Petty’s It’s all Bueno. Dean is one of those ride-anything type dudes. this one includes some login and twin keel surfing from Dean as well as a couple of comic interludes.

IT’S ALL BUENO from Urban Peace Division on Vimeo.

next we have some high performance surfing with Pete Devries, Nico Manos and Noah Cohen titled Y’all Ever Been To…. this gem was shot and edited by Zak Bush -his directorial debut -though he’s been doing still photography for some time.

Y’all Ever Been To… from zak bush on Vimeo.

finally we have Jenner Cormier’s stylish mostly self-shot, spring to summer sessions titled Clear Cutting. this one was cleverly done and includes a very cool skate scene. Clear Cutting was edited by Julian Crick. Julian had two submissions in this year’s festival. his editing is great and as a surfer he seems to have an eye for it. I’m sure there will be more to come from Julian. his film Nico in Indo was last year’s winner at CSFF.

Clear Cutting from julian crick on Vimeo.

these guys put a lot of work into these projects. I really look forward to seeing what will come from them next year.

congratulations boys on great showings at this year’s Canadian Surf Film Festival.

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in halifax, style, surf | Leave a comment

best international short film, 2011 Canadian Surf Film Festival

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
Posted in culture, ego, surf | Leave a comment