Category Archives: prose

boulders and rips

By ras | Published: 12.11.10
I’m tired, so tired that my brain seems to be lapsing as my focus shifts erratically from one tidbit on my desk, to a page on the web, to a daydream. why? little sleep thanks to Mr. Pollo who’s yet to have a full nights wink. at a quarter to four this morning the room [...]
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chest puffin all over

By ras | Published: 12.10.10
chest puffin in all manners of society. the city dwellers puff chests about hardness on this street and that block. meanwhile country folks puff chests ’bout hard livin and back country tribulations. in the lineup chests puff with 6’1” x 18 and a quarter, with three fins and can’t paddle worth a shit, while you [...]
Also posted in absurdity, random, social commentary | 2 Comments

shit dammit: a new approach

By ras | Published: 5.10.10
a new approach is imminent. this sitting for hours pretending productivity is gettin old. there’s gotta be another way. got any ideas? got any job offers? I’m open to anything so long as I don’t have to feign interest -so long as I can fully commit to the task, take risks and learn. there’s only [...]
Also posted in absurdity, music | Tagged | 1 Comment

simple times

By ras | Published: 16.8.10
this morning as I watched the red sun rise out of the ocean I wondered to myself why wouldn’t/shouldn’t I try and aspire to a simple and quiet life? why do I always feel the need to strive? well I know the answer to that question –it is in fact a cultural expectation. so then [...]
Also posted in absurdity, health | 4 Comments

inland oceans

By ras | Published: 10.8.10
inland oceans are like islands in the sea. strange currents and shorelines. shelves of stone, like the years that the waters lapped and kissed its shores, line it with their slippery surface from too much pollution upstream algae. inland oceans like hard work and patience. inland oceans like time off and family ties. inland oceans [...]
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the colours of hope

By ras | Published: 16.6.10
here is a representation of hopes and dreams for a sliders life. the green bands represent the possibility of fun summertime sandbars and secret spots, places numbered non-sequentially by sleepy eyed night risers. morning birds drink coffee and drive silently, hoping that the fog is thick to block would be takers while at the same [...]
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badminded folk nuh badda mi

By ras | Published: 27.5.10
had a fine surf on the ‘ol yeller last night. Picasso and I arrived at spot x after 8 pm. in the street , invasive species who wish to be endemic were vibin with badmindesness. we did our best to camouflage our disdain and smiled like normal rational adults. out in the lineup our woes [...]
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it must be life

By ras | Published: 12.5.10
there’s a tingling sensation creeping across the back of my skull and down into my spine. not sure what it is. perhaps it is joy mixed with sunlight. music emanates from my computer screen. Thom singing passionately about …. need. the music reminds me that I live in two places. most of the time I [...]
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1958 – pompadours

By ras | Published: 11.5.10
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lottery

By ras | Published: 22.4.10
this is a piece a wrote a while ago. I’ll post some of my older prose and poetry among the flotsam and jetsam. this piece plays for me like a mind movie of my childhood in Venezuela. I won the lottery. After cashing the check and getting some things taken care of I schlepped off [...]
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forward trim

By ras | Published: 5.2.10
I’ve been really diggin the longboard again lately and the feeling of forward trim. saturday morning I surfed alone for a little over an hour on some little knee high rights. the waves had just enough wave face to allow for perfect trim. the feeling of standing on the board motionless while gliding across the [...]
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the author not the writer

By ras | Published: 5.2.10
Where do I begin? Over the past two weeks I’ve been endlessly devouring information as is so easy to do in the interwebs. Where has it gotten me? I have no fucking idea. One aspect of my personality that never seems to go away is this feeling of always wanting to do something, always on [...]
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