Dear Senator Barbara Boxer

Dear Sen. Boxer,

I applaud your efforts on coastal clean-up - I am a Bay Area resident (San Francisco County), a registered voter, and a member of the Surfrider Foundation, which fueled much of the clean up efforts from the oil spills in the Bay Area.

I read your recent message about strengthening the restrictions on bunker oil tankers (specifically), traveling in US Waters to double hulls, and proposing no limit to the government's financial relief responsibility for single hull tankers. I think you are on the right track with limitations, but unfortunately, the restrictions you propose seem to be a little lacking.

1) I would propose not only a restriction on bunker oil ships, but ALL oil carrying cargo vessels. All oil is hazardous to the environment when it hits the ecosystem in ways it was never intended.
2) I would definitely agree with phasing out limits to Federal financial responsibility. If we cannot phase out limits, I propose a secondary motion to *increase* financial responsibility at the federal level. Locally we saw absolutely NO government financial resources for the first month and a half of the spill despite them telling us it would be there. It was all grass roots local clean-up efforts organized largely by local foundations (including Surfrider), environmentalists, and surfers. We saw no federal or local government resources outside of classes provided by the EPA for civilians to do beach clean-up. It wasn't until 4 weeks in that Pacifica's local government even got involved.

3) I would propose a much more harsh restriction on the AMOUNT of oil, bunker or otherwise, allowed to be carried on any waterway by a single vessel. This would reduce the *amount* of a spill if one was to happen. If the Cosco Busan were limited to half its carriage, we would have a much less devastating effect on our environment due to the spill.

4) I would propose ocean floor major EPA and Marine studies on the impact the spill has caused just sitting there in globs. The ban on crabbing and fishing was lifted way too soon. One week after the ban was lifted I walked along Ocean Beach which was saturated still with tar bubbles (I stepped in one and had to throw my shoes out) oil streaks across the sands, and thousands upon thousands of sand dollars had washed up dead on the shore. It was not mating season (which is a common reason why they would ever beach themselves en masse). Mussels from the Bay were found to have 5 times the toxicity levels of normal (our ocean's cleaners), and it was very apparent bottom feeding harvestable foods such as crab would be effected, despite early tests the government imposed *before* the oil could reach the bottom of the ocean. Linda Mar beach in Pacifica had to be closed 6 weeks after the spill because storms had dredged up oil from the ocean floor from the spill, and deposited it back on the beaches there.

I surf these waters. I haven't been in them since the spill. It's devastating to me what little has been done, and I really appreciate your efforts and hope that you will take my suggestions into your heart and politics.

I once said that if any politician stood up for spill clean-up even marginally, I would vote for them. All other matters are off the table for me. This is the singularly most important environmental issue that carries the weight of my vote.

Thank you for listening.
(emailed).

Labels: oil spill, politics, surfing

posted by Rain at 11:19 AM

Surfing Post Mortem: 4 Spills and 50 Birds

There is nothing worse than a landlocked surfer. Ok,
maybe one thing is worse. An ANGRY landlocked surfer
suffering from the absolute ineptitude of cargo ships
moving through open sea dispensing oil into the ocean
like so many children with giant pez dispensers.

It’s like…having epiphany after epiphany on writing a
novel and getting excited to flesh it out on paper,
but suddenly discovering every pen in the world has
melted into the soil and all the paper in the world
was burned up in a fire, and worse—the fire was arson.
I’m pretty sure this is what Christopher Reeves felt
like when he woke up paralyzed… Well, maybe not that
bad. But close.

I was angry after the San Francisco spill was
discovered. Doubly angry when an unrelated one
surfaced in Monterey Bay. Triple angry when the
Russian disaster was announced (yay! Arctic current
brings us sharks AND oil!), and utterly disgusted and
appalled at the New York spill near Jones Beach.

This has been my undoing over the last three weeks,
ever since the Cosco Busan oil spill. Everyone’s heard
about it—sure. For almost a month, every beach I surf
has been closed due to unsafe conditions, adding to a
total of 14 closures around the bay area reaching from
Bolinas all the way down to Montara and Mavericks.
Mavericks was supposed to open its waiting period for
the big wave competition on December 1st – but it’s
still too unsafe to enter the water there. The only
thing left open has been Santa Cruz, but another
mysterious oil spill has washed up down there
completely unrelated to the Cosco Busan—this substance
is a clear oil, where as the Bay Area spill was Bunker
Oil.

Surfers have been frolicking in tar balls clinging to
their wetsuits for years—but this spill is different
from all the rest. This spill kills more than a few
birds (try thousands) and fish (quantity unknown).

Gummy tar balls, dead sea birds caked in black,
dribbles of black along the beach, boats covered
around their freshly waxed hulls in gummy oil, and
waves shadowed in sludge were first sighted on Ocean
Beach…then Pacifica…then North…then San Mateo beaches.
No government haz-mat teams showed up to clean the
spill. Not one.

Pacifica only launched an effort two weeks ago. The
only people cleaning up the spill have been hundreds
of volunteers—mostly landlocked surfers—who want their
waves back. In retrospect, the government has told us
this all could have been contained significantly if
the Coast Guard had been called in to do so right
after the collision with the cargo ship and the Bay
Bridge. They weren’t. Why the f--- not?

Bunker Oil is the nasty stuff that is left when all
other useable parts of the original oil has been
siphoned off – the byproduct of all the rest, and
extremely hazardous to humans and wildlife. It has
been linked to causing Parkinson’s Disease, and many
horrendous neurological diseases.

Human skin cells absorb it at an alarmingly spongy
rate, and once the damage is done…it is irreversible.
It is so hazardous, that those of us who wish to do
beach clean-up have to take a four hour certification
class that addresses how to handle the stuff without
getting harmed. Because of the required certification,
all the volunteers who were just showing up at the
beaches to help out were ticketed and fined if they
were found doing clean-up without proper papers. Go
figure THAT one. No haz-mat teams, and they start
fining the only volunteers caring enough to risk their
lives to try and clean up this mess? That makes me
even angrier than I was before.

And to what do we owe this 58,000 gallon disaster? A
wrong turn. Mechanical and Navigational error. The
pilot, accompanied by a tug boat meant to HELP large
cargo ships navigate the bay, just…made a wrong
turn…and right into the support columns of a leg of
the Bay Bridge. Want to see exactly how it happened?
Brace yourself:
This link is a computer animation of the “Mechanical and
Navigational error.” Angry yet? No?

Lets think about this for a second. What’s it done so
far to the environment?
It’s put 50 species of bay area birds on the
National Watch list, that’s what. Not one, not ten,
not twenty. Fifty.

A friend paddled out at Linda Mar this week, and he
noticed on a wave that his deck was smeared with black
sludge. He’d stepped in tar somewhere on the ocean
floor and it went unnoticed until he saw his board
smeared with the stuff. When he got out of the water,
his boot was tarred up. This stuff is still
everywhere, only now it’s sunk to the bottom where
bottom feeding crustaceans and sea life will be
detrimentally effected—not to mention—anyone who steps
in the stuff is exposed to contamination. That’s why
they call it a “hazardous material.” It’s hazardous to
your health!

...And people are still illegally crabbing in the bay,
after it was mandated that inspections must be run
first on the catch to ensure no contamination. Stupid.
Just...stupid.

Another friend lost his sense of smell after surfing
during the red tide in Santa Cruz. Two more got nasty
sinus infections, complete with runny eyes, sore and
scratchy throat, and clogged sinuses.

A lot of folks are blaming the mysterious oil spill in
Monterey Bay on the red tide, but in fact, they are
two separate things. The red tide makes water dark and
murky, almost rusty looking up close, from the color
of the over-productive algae blooms that mass produce
for no apparent rhyme or reason, at any given time. A
lot of folks mistook the red tide for oil…and articles
have been published on the mistaken identity.

However, they neglected to impart the real “mystery
spill” was a clear oil, unrelated to the red tide, and
unrelated to the Bunker Oil spilled from the Cosco
Busan. No one knows where the clear oil came from, or
how it got there. No one's even cared enough to try
and figure it out.

The environmental impact is so great, that it can’t
simply be dismissed as something that has happened “in
the past,” and has been sufficiently cleaned up. It’s
still present tense. It’s still killing living things.
It’s still not cleaned up. I’m still angry.

But there is a way to put the anger to good
use…getting certified to do the clean up is one thing.
There are still certification classes (four hours
long) happening around the Bay Area, supported and
often supplied by the Surfrider Foundation in
conjunction with other organizations. Making
contributions to the Surfrider Foundation is another –
I am a card carrying member, and this organization has
been critical in helping the clean-up effort,
organizing volunteers. I urge you all to visit
Surfrider.org and make a contribution to
help continue the clean-up effort. Since our
government can’t seem to get it together, the
community can and will.

I, as a writer, have a voice. I, as a human, CAN help.
I, as a surfer, am angry enough to not just let this
slide. I, as a voter, would seriously consider any
presidential candidate that actually DID something
about this spill (so far, to date, the only politician
outside of Pacifica’s Mayor that has spoken out enough
that even *I* heard them in my little anti-media
bubble that I live in, is Arnold Schwarzenegger), to
be worthy enough to get my vote.

I want my beaches back. I want my ocean back. I want
my sea life, and sea birds back. I want to surf again,
sometime in the next year.

I want stronger legislation on regulations imposed
upon cargo ships traveling in any waters, both
entering and exiting our own. No more cheap corner
cutting on containment. No more vetting the oil around
the hull in tanks designed to make more room for cargo
inside. No more.

Feel free to pass this one on.

(Surfless in San Francisco)

Labels: surfing

posted by Rain at 11:33 AM

Birthdays and Weekend Colors

First...a very happy birthday to Baine. :)

With all that has been going on and as busy as I have been, Muppet Man and I decided to get the hell out of dodge this weekend for a trip to Napa and Sonoma. We got a cheap rate on hotels.com, and stayed in Sonoma where there was a restaurant inside the hotel, so we wouldn’t have to worry about going anywhere at the end of the day. Muppet Man took the cherry red Mercedes SLK out of the paddock, so we had fun zipping around wine country under some wonderfully stormy looking clouds, but never encountering rain.

The colors in wine country are astoundingly beautiful right now – rich yellows and reds contrasting with the dark bark of the vines, and a few tangles of over-ripened fruit that got missed in the harvest dangling off winding gnarls of arms…and up against a lush dark green on the mountains and hills, combined with a lighter green of the fertile land the vines sit on. Plus, many of the roses are still blooming at the ends of the vines – reds, whites, fire and ice. All profoundly beautiful and fragrant. The air smelled spicy.

On Saturday we went to these places, and picked up Lily_Dove’s wine shipment for her at Trefethen, then mine at St. Supery. Muppet Man signed up for Domaine Carneros, which was our first stop to taste some of their superb champagnes:

Domaine Carneros/Tattinger
Trefethen
St. Supery

Sunday we headed through Sonoma, with some free tasting passes from our hotel:

Imagery
Kunde
Blackstone
Chateau St. Jean
Ledson

We hadn't planned on Chateau St. Jean, but I saw a sign out front about their Pinot Noir having been released, and that was primarily what I had wanted to taste that day...so we ducked in. It's perhaps the most beautiful winery we've been to yet - gorgeous French architecture, wonderfully balanced wines...and the building is ensconced in beautiful French oak to boot.

We almost skipped Ledson, but had to check out the neat looking Bavarian Castle type architecture. The grounds were beautiful with little hedges sort of like an English maze, but the fruit flies inside the tasting room were overwhelming. We had to cover our glasses in between tastes.

Of course, we also picnicked and had some good Mexican food at Maya in Sonoma...though our dinner on Saturday night was unremarkable at the hotel, and maybe a little disappointing. Still, we had fun, got away from the city, and that's all that matters.

I did not buy any wine this trip, and was charged with keeping Muppet Man on a budget - which he adhered to very well, surprisingly. That man can sure go nuts on wine...but he didn't this time.

This will be a very busy week. I have an audiology appointment this afternoon (prior to my CT scans, as the mystery of what's going on with my brain still eludes doctors, and they attempt to rule out everything that can be ruled out. Meanwhile, the vertigo does not get worse, or any less).

Tomorrow, tarot readings.

Wednesday - cleaning!

Thursday, Turkey Day delightfulness at AccidentProne's, to which I'm dragging Muppet Man.

Friday, Seanie arrives, and I have the very fun task of showing him around my neighborhood - the last time he visited was well over 8 years ago, and when I lived in San Rafael. Saturday he departs, and I attempt to clean up some beaches.

I was going to head down to Santa Cruz with Lily_Dove and Thumbelina, but the red tides are still causing problems for surf down there, plus, there is a strong odor of oil, according to Old Surf Guy, which means it's moving in his general direction, which means me both angry and sad at the same time.

All our beaches are still closed...and dead sea birds are still washing up all around San Francisco.

On our way to Napa on Saturday, you could smell the oil in Sausalito as we passed the bay. No government ordered haz-mat teams have been dispatched. So far it's still been only volunteers (and most of them surfers at that), cleaning up our beaches. I swear, whatever presidential candidate moves to publicize and act first on this, will have a strong chance at my vote.

TheMissBlue arrives next weekend, too. I'm looking forward to it!

Labels: friends, oil spill, surfing, wine

posted by Rain at 12:22 PM

San francisco Beaches are not the only ones affected - San Mateo beaches now contaminated:

The growing list of beaches closed due to the San Francisco Oil Spill is outrageously large. Notice sites haven’t been able to keep up. Today I received word that Mavericks is now contaminated, with Bunker Oil and dead sea birds washing up on shore. The farthest south I’d seen word of contamination was Montara…and now the surfers will be at risk even as long away as March for the annual Mavericks competition. The next volunteer training is tonight at 5pm in Half Moon Bay.

I should also note that largely the beach cleanup in SF has been due to some 500 volunteers. No government Haz-mat clean-up crews have shown up. Not one.

Training is being provided by EPA and other agencies in an effort to not make the clean-up worse by trampling the oil into the sand, which can bury it for a time only to bring it back up, when its harder to clean. The classes are about 4 hours long, but well worth the effort. We are the only ones who can save our beaches.

Here is a partial list of closures.

From Mavsurfer’s bulletin on Myspace:

“From Grant Washburn;

Hey Frank,
A Bunker Fuel slick and dead birds have been washing up. I'm going down later today to check it out. The main thing surfers should know is that this is not your grannies motor oil. This is toxic waste. Bunker fuel is nothing like the little tar balls surfers have been frolicking in for decades. This stuff is the nastiest of the nasty, and several Doctors have told us they believe the substances being sown into our shore are responsible for things like Parkinson’s and other nerve disorders - even in trace amounts. It is sucked up by human tissue, traveling right through cell walls.

My front line experience has me shocked. I could not believe how bad the goo really is, the vapors are eye watering and the ocean is covered in an ultra-fine film. This is no small deal. It will definitely put the Maverick's event and the surfers at risk.

- - - - - Grant Washburn, Mavericks Hellman and Ocean Beach resident.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
EPA TRAINING

HMB – Thursday 5pm
IDES Building
735 Main Street
Sponsored by San Mateo County (SMCalerts..)

HBM – Satruday, 8am
Location TBD

Berkley – Sat, Nov 19
8am
1900 6th Street

The fact that it's as far down as Mavericks shows the speed at which this is moving. If you can spare a few extra hours of your day to get trained and be ready to clean your own beach, then please do. Let's do this!

Frank

P.S. See you all at the HMB Training tonight

For more updates go to;

Zuna Surf

Labels: oil spill, surfing

posted by Rain at 1:15 PM

Various Updates and Travel Schedule

I’m behind in my reporting…I know this.

Last weekend is a blur, which ended in a fantastic show at the Red Devil Lounge – Dick Dale, "King of the Surf Guitar." I ran into Aerinys there with a friend of hers, and the show was extremely high energy and totally phenomenal for any guitar-head looking to see a legend do what they do best.

…and then…my wallet was stolen. So I had to leave early, before the end of the show. I wound up getting a call on Monday from Yellow Cab saying it was found in the back of one of their cabs (my business card was in it, and that’s how they connected the dots). I don’t keep valuable stuff in my wallet, unlike most folks – it’s a catch all for membership cards, coupons, and maxed out credit cards that wouldn’t do anyone any good anyway…so whoever took it could have made off with a Surfrider Foundation card that might get them a discount at certain surf venues, but not much else.

Ok…on to the travel calendar. This is what’s confirmed:

9/28-30 – Santa Cruz (paddling out for the evening glass off on the 29th, dawn patrol on the 30th). Those of you joining me know where…booya!

10/5-7 – Santa Cruz (tentative)

10/12-14 – Seattle, WA

10/28 – My birthday…and possibly LA/San Diego road trip. Dunno yet. But I’ll let the SoCal folks know ahead of time, of course.*

11/8-11 – Denver & Cripple Creek for Lady Katherine’s weddin’. Yeeeeee haw!

Turkey Day – yet unticketed, but I’m going to still try and see the Fam in TX if I can get the ticket on the cheap.

X-Mas in Texas.

*If I don’t make it down south at the end of October, I’m going to try for it in November – I’ve got a long list of people to see, and want to get in some SoCal surf with some of them. Fortunately, Virgin Atlantic has some way-cheap fares, but if I’m surfing, I’ll drive the boards down.

As you may have guessed, I’m behind on reading up on my LJ friends pages, etc…and if I’m late responding to your emails, don’t kill me. I promise to get to them soon(ish). There is such a thing as a telephone, vintage communication device that it may be – and you can always use it to get me caught up…or just send me funny pictures from your cellphone. (I said funny themissblue, not fanny).

Labels: music, surfing, travel

posted by Rain at 11:45 AM

Tonight @ Red Devil, New Board, & Weekendery

Yanno…

Every time I go to Wise, I always have a good experience. It’s not the same as other surf shops; a little bigger, a little more in the “nice” category. If you have questions, even stupid ones, they answer ‘em. Sometimes they answer ‘em before you ask ‘em. For instance…how to put on a leash, and fins. Waterwookie instructed me via email on the leash business when I picked up that old board off of CL, but seeing as how the guy was so patient (and cute) helping me out buying the new board (my first new board!), I decided to just take it all in.

I called ahead yesterday to see what they still had in stock, since the sale is $100 off the cheapy brand Blue – not a bad choice for a novice, and the boards are glass, not epoxy. They had some 7’6s in stock, which was the same size as the old board, but I decided to move up to something more stable in an 8’2. Bigger is better, but I didn’t want to go too big. I picked the least girly looking board in the bunch, a black pinstripe on mostly white. It’s pretty light weight, easy to carry, and was only $350 or something nuts like that. He threw in 3 bars of wax for free, and took $10 off my leash, and the fins were included…so the whole thing cost me $400.35 – the exact amount I had budgeted was $400 (having gotten $150 for the old board and sold some stuff at the local thrift, and budgeted $200 out of this paycheck for the rest). The way I figure it, in real time money, I only spent $200 – which was what the used pintail cost me off CL too. It was a steal.

The fellah who helped me out showed me how to put the fins on, and how to move the center fin, how NOT to poke into the board getting the fins to slot in, and some tips on wiggling a bit, and tightening the screws. He took the price tag off with some solvent stuff, and asked me if I was going surfing. I had to reply no, that I was on my lunch break and had to get back to work, but that I was planning on Santa Cruz this weekend (if I can get some buds to go with me, which is looking grim). He laughed and said, “At least get your hair wet…looks good out there today.” I had to admit that the little crumbly fast waves at Ocean Beach not only looked surfable, but inviting. I had no idea that OB could even produce such smallness…but like the sirens entice sailors into the treachery of rocks, I knew better the beast that was beckoning… and went back to work instead. It really did look tame. And inviting. Despite no one being in the water…

The guy helping me further joked about sharks, saying that July and August seem to be the season when most people around here get bit.

Yikes.

Anyways…support your local surf shop, damn-it. Community and all that. I tend to spend my money where there is no attitude adjustment needed - and Wise has been the best experience I've had in that category so far. That's where I got my wetsuit...usually where I get my wax...and spare leash for the 7'6.

Speaking of support and local and community – MusicFairy’s band, Truxton, is playing tonight at the Red Devil Lounge. They go on at 9pm sharp-like, so drop in and check it out.

I’m thinking about getting back into Bikhram Yoga again, by the by. I’ve been doing good with the diet, and it’s time to incorporate some exercise that will help build strength and agility.

Tentative alternative plans for the weekend (because it looks like surfing won’t pan out, which is a bummer when you have a new board and are itching to take it out): Picnic on Saturday with Dr. Kaos and potential others; Napa on Sunday with AccidentProne (who is driving, yay), her in-town friend, and maybe Lily_Dove.

Psssst. Themissblue’s birthday is on Monday. Her gift is in the mail. :)

Labels: friends, music, surfing

posted by Rain at 11:02 AM

Where where you when Barry Bonds broke Hank Aaron's record?

I was there.

It’s tough to look back on last night without feeling a sense of surreal pride, knowing I witnessed a bit of history in the making that wasn’t related to a traumatic catastrophe, natural disaster, or act of war.

It was freezing, windy, and oh—did I mention FREEZING in the center field bleachers? I was in seat 3 of row 32 in section 142, right next to the score board of AT&T park – home of the San Francisco Giants. The audience was positively electric with excitement, and every time Barry Bonds got up to bat, the crowd stood up and went wild, shouting…BAR-RY! BAR-RY! BAR-RY!. I captured video of the single he hit…and marveled at how all the camera flashes that sparked like little fireflies or a complete poof of Drag Queen Glitter lit up as Barry took his swings. Later, I was filming again…when Barry broke Hank Aaron’s record of 755 home runs by hitting number 756.

Fireworks went off. Silver streamers glittered to the field. The crowd went wild. Some nutbar hopped over the guard rail, a teenage kid by the looks of it, and ran onto the field towards Bonds. Security quickly caught him and slammed him to the ground, then walked him off the green. Hank Aaron came on the score board (which we could not see, but I got audio on) to congratulate Barry and pass the torch. Willy Mays was in the audience. It was a surge of glee and audience pride unlike anything I’ve been a part of.

And then…suddenly…it vanished. After the fanfare died down, the coach took Bonds out of the game to give him the rest of the night in the dugout to reflect on his emotional win, despite the Giants loosing by two to the Nationals in the end (the score was 8 to 6). After several announcements of paraphernalia available – fans began scrambling towards gift shops and booths trying to buy programs or anything stamped with the date that said, “I was there!” in the way of pre-made shirts in the event of Barry letting loose during the game.

Where before the stadium was a giant belly-bowl full of enormous ogre-ghostlike buzzing energy…suddenly it was empty, and that absence of energy was so strongly felt it was astonishing. The fans were leaving. The game wasn’t over and the fans were leaving…a strong message to the Giants two-fold: 1) there was little to no support for anyone other than Bonds, and 2) the team would cease to make money without him, and probably be forced to charge what A’s tickets and concessions cost just to bring in the fans. It had to be disheartening for the other team players still in the game. It had to be distracting to look up and see a mass of dark green, empty chairs.

Still, I am in awe of the experience. You can check out two videos of the melee here (though I had two more which wouldn’t upload of the fireworks and fanfare):



Today it was back to business.

I sold the 7’6 board, and plan on using that money to put towards a cheapie new Blue mini-longboard of a slightly larger variety. Wise is having a sale through the end of august on 7’10 to 8’6 minis, starting at $315. Can’t really beat that price. I have to wait until I get paid though, to make up the other half.

DebG and I are going to Cobb’s tomorrow night to get some laughs off Dat Phan, staring with dinner at her place.

We are formulating a plan to visit Amacker now that she’s back from the hospital, and bring her treats.

Oh, and GODS I just love this video of this 7 year old kid chasing off a convenience store robber...she's my new hero. Mostly for her bravery, and wonderful use of "Po-Po," "feller," and especially for, "He should be strung up by the gills..."

Labels: Giants, surfing, vids

posted by Rain at 4:10 PM

Shark Weather

Shark Weather

It was shark weather all weekend. Foggy, overcast when the fog lifted, and so foggy when driving, that a slow sift-through-the-soup pace had to be administered just to get through the winding mountain roads on Sunday, and even on the freeway Saturday. It was windy, cold, and drizzly. The water was murky. We had a southwest swell from a storm making bigger, heavy waves at Linda Mar...and only two footers (but for three hours) in Bolinas.

On Saturday two surf buds and I met up at Linda Mar to check out the break, which was crumbly and mostly closed out, though there a ton of surfers in the water getting trounced. We stayed down in Tacobell Land, with the other novices. Nightshift was out in the far break, bold and fearless. It was freezing.

T-Bones and I stayed in the white water, but even that felt strangely intimidating to me. It was small when we got there, but got to be about shoulder high in the middle break, and after riding a bit of the white water I paddled in and sat on the beach for longer than I'd been in the water. There is something I really dislike about Linda Mar, and I've never been able to pinpoint just what. I have always felt uneasy there, despite how great it's supposed to be for beginners.

Sunday Nightshift, BurntRaisin, Canada, BigA, and I headed for Bolinas to check out the baby waves. It was cold as a witches tit, and we got there right at low tide, which gave us about 3 good hours before the surf disappeared. Canada and I had been discussing Great Whites on the way, and we passed the blood red sign leading on to the beach that reads "Great Whites Dine Here," with that conversation in mind. It was indeed shark weather.

We headed out past The Groin (a long phallic looking concrete wall that descends out like a point into the ocean before you get to the channel, marking depth and water level). There were fishermen casting out along the beach before the Groin, and boats hovering in the distance. It's never really a good idea to swim or surf where people are fishing (sharks are attracted to those areas), and the omnipresence of little pods of seals wasn't helping with the doom and gloom of the fog and murk. Still, we saw no fins, and the water was well populated with surfers trying to catch the ONE (yep one) long break far out amongst the shifting sand bars.

They were way, way, way far out in the channel. Scary far.

We got in, and started to paddle out, along the wall of The Groin. I got about 10 feet past it, and saw how much farther I needed to go, and noticed something peculiar about my board. I was on the 7'6 Terry Senate, which is a hybrid mini Longboard/funboard shape, and super floaty, like a training board, but it's fiberglass. The entire left side was sinking, so I had to compensate with weight on the right side, and everything was uncomfortably lopsided, though not yet under water fully. Looking up again, I decided to look back and see how far I was from shore...and yep, I was far out there. Way far. Not as far as the rest, but it was enough. BurntRaisin was not too far ahead and tried to coax me forward, but something of a panick was kicking in - almost like a terrible anxiety I can only equate to what I felt that day I nearly drowned at Ocean Beach.

I had this sudden feeling of terror. What if I couldn't make it back in? The board I was on wasn't a fast paddle...and I felt tired as it was. I started feeling sick to my stomach, and decided to paddle back to shore - angry with myself, and completely not understanding the fear factor at all. I mean, if it was a fear of getting eaten by a shark, that would be one thing - but a fear of baby waves and not getting back in? It was totally irrational. The waves were ankle biters and no higher than 2 feet at the bigger break, far out in the channel. A ton of people were around, including instructors. It wasn't even the loppy board I was on.

When I got closer to shore, there was some 1-2 foot white water angling in towards a deep dip in the sandy bottom, and I hung out there for a bit contemplating riding that a bit, but the sand was piled up to areas only mid-thigh to ankle high, and even THAT was bothering me. It was awful. I couldn't control it and it was so frustrating. I went in and sat on the beach, contemplating my wimpery, feeling like a giant puss. I watched the seals dive and re-surface in pods of three, trying to keep count in the event of a fin - but I didn't see anything disappear or get chomped.

I suppose I have some kind of post trauma stress from that day at OB, considering these were my first two days back out since then.

I checked over the board, and there is a crack in the squash tail needing repair.

The rest of the gang had a good time, even in the slow moving baby waves, and afterwards we had a short BBQ in the freezing cold drizzle, hung out with a few of the beach dogs that came by to visit, and then headed home.

I have been contemplating why I froze up ever since...but plan on hitting Cowells or 38th avenue with the gang in the next few weeks. I also seem to have tweaked my back yesterday - no doubt on the panicked paddle-in, on the lopsided board. It hurts like a mother!@#$er. I think I pulled a muscle in the lower left side.

In other news, Barry Bonds has tied the Hank Aaron record at home run number 255 - I have Giants tickets in the bleachers (where Barry hits 'em) tomorrow night...and I'm hoping he'll break the record while I'm there. I offered my spare ticket to (c)Superman, and he's taking me to dinner before the game, which will be nice.

Thursday, I have tickets to see Dat Phan (who won Last Comic Standing) at Cobb's Comedy Club. Looks like it's going to be a busy week, too.

:/

Labels: Giants, surfing

posted by Rain at 12:56 PM

happy birthday dr. kaos, & dime store updates

First of all, a very happy birthday to Dr. Kaos. May the woodland sprites bring you lots of lovely treats (and sweep your house of Black Widow infestations like the one you had when you lived in San Jose…shudder), and keep the leprechauns at bay. I do believe I’ve known you now for what…8 or 9 years? Why, just yesterday we were dancing to a Perki/Nando mix at Shrine of Lilith…and Midnight was in his Top Hat with hair down to his butt.

I cannot believe it’s almost August. Because right after August is September, and after September is October – and then comes November, possibly my busiest month this year, depending on how I work the whole thing out. I’ve got to go to Denver for my high-school girlfriend’s wedding, and there is the potential for a Thelma And Louis Southwest Tour with TheMissBlue, stopping off in Arizona to camp at Rockstar Ex’s, before landing in Texas for Thanksgiving. The whole thing should take us about a week.

This weekend was a lot of fun, but rather jam packed. Friday was the usual happy hour at the cigar bar with Lily_Dove and MuppetMan, (c)Superman, Snake Eyes, and the usual bunch. Later, Libitina joined us, and she, Lily_Dove, and MotoBlondeGuy (a friend of Lily_Dove’s) went for Sushi at Sushi Rika. My eye was really giving me trouble at that point, so I wound up begging off early and went home.

The next day I was supposed to have a look at a surf board from a somewhat flakey eBay Guy. He said it only had two small dime size dings that he’d had professionally repaired, but what showed up was two dings the size of the top of a redbull can, and he’d filled them in himself with Blue Steel epoxy – not the kind you’d want to use for a surf board but I would guess it would have been somewhat ok – but it wasn’t even sealed or laminated. I’d have had to take it to a professional repair place at $25 a pop, and told him so, since it wasn’t even water tight. He got angry and said, “Well, if you don’t want it then…” I think he half expected me to stop him. What a freakin’ baby.

He turned around in a huff and threw the board back into his truck, took his toy, and went home. This after telling me he’d lost his cell phone all week, then found it the morning OF the day he was supposed to be in the city and coming by between 11am and 1pm…which turned into 4-5:30…and then he didn’t actually get there until 6:15pm. Originally he’d had the board listed for $400+ on eBay as a collector’s item (and it wasn’t). When it didn’t sell I made an offer to him and said I could pick it up since he was local (San Jose) and he insisted on bringing it to the city. So my whole day was wasted sitting around waiting for this guy, and for a board that wasn’t what he said it was. Needless to say…I was glad to be rid of the whole task. The board isn’t even worth $100 at this point, after what he’d done to it.

I had dinner plans in the Marina with Fleur De Lys (no, not the restaurant – we went to Ace Wasabe). Afterwards, we headed to the Matrix, our fair Mayor’s fine establishment, and chatted away from the unwashed masses in a tidy little corner on a velvety lounger. The waitstaff was very attentive, and we weren’t bothered by horrible drunk marina boys on a mission, as we were out of the view of the meat market crowd. I dare say I’ve found a way to enjoy that place on a Saturday night. Fleur De Lys just got back from Italy, Cambodia, Europe…and had lots of stories.

Sunday I kept to myself, watched the History Channel all day long, reruns of General Hospital (and I have to say I am HOOKED on General Hosptial Nights) from the previous week to get caught up on my favorite Mob family soap, then caught The Notorious Bette Page (on demand) – which was quite a good little movie, even if the actress that played her was a little too thin.

Today I get back to the grind on two difficult scripts for branded content; one involving the Beckhams, and the other a major cosmetic company out of the UK. Fun, fun.

My apologies to TheMusicFairy (aka Charmless) – I did not make it out to see his band last night, though I had meant to. For those of you in LA – Truxton will be playing two gigs coming up this week…here’s the deets from the band:

FOR OUR LOS ANGELES PEEPS:

Wednesday July 25, 2007 @ El Cid (Silverlake CA)

Silver Needle (AWESOME band!)
Truxton
TBA

9pm 8 bucks
__________________________________________
Friday July 27, 2007 @ Relax Bar (Hollywood)

TRUXTON
Kinky Method
Lipstick Dynamite

8pm 7 bucks

Labels: food, friends, LA, music, surfing

posted by Rain at 9:34 AM

Meanwhile, At the Garage Sale...

I forgot to include in my original post an anecdote about a funny old surfer who was in line next to me at the garage sale...he was hilarious. 60 years old and still out there on shortboards. Every time someone came out of the garage with a board he'd comment on what they bought. (I didn't find anything, though I went only to look since I'd just bought the shortboard the day before. I wanted to be certain I wouldn't have found that longboard I'd been looking for).

"Hey--what's your line number?" He'd say.
"46...I don't think I'll get anything. It'll all be gone." Random surfer would say.
"I'm number 21...I'll sell you my number for $5. - could buy me some wax with that fiver." He'd say.
"uh..." Random surfer would ponder, looking at cupcakes for sale for a dollar.
"$5 is a good price! Don't buy a cupcake, man. Surfers don't eat that crap. Pretty soon you'll have to ride a big old longboard you keep eatin them cupcakes."
"Nah...I think I'll wait it out."
"So you want my ticket?"
"Nah..."

"Hey--how much did you pay for that?" He'd say.
"$210...not bad, eh?" Random Surfer would say.
"No, not at all--that's a good board." He'd say.

"Hey--how much did you pay for that?" He'd say.
"Bout $200..." Random Surfer would say.
"Awww...look at that though - its buckled - but at least the break wasn't at the stringer."

"Hey--how much did you pay for that?" He'd say.
"$300 but it came with fins and a leash..." Random surfer would say.
"Yeah, and flowers." (giggling from crusty dude as he turns to me.)
"That guy got your longboard...haha!" Crusty dude said.
"No way. I'm not into the flowery stuff." I said, laughing.

Let it be said that I saw Crusty Dude go into the garage...but never saw him come out. A lot of the other surfers in line were saying, "Man, I'm afraid to come out with anything - he might tell me what I bought was crap."

Labels: surfing

posted by Rain at 4:21 PM

The Haunted Surf Board

First, extra special happy birthday to my favorite Muppet. This is for you.

All hail CL for the effortless business transaction of finding a beater surf board ad, and 20 minutes later, strapping it to my car. I scored a 7’6 hybrid/funboard shape, though I was really hoping to get a longboard… I had a sinking feeling that if I waited until Sunday to go to that garage sale I would not find what I was looking for affordably, though when I emailed them, they said they had used longboards starting at $95. I’ve been scanning the for sale section for some time now, and on Saturday afternoon saw a post for a pale blue beater from a guy who learned on that board…though it was shaped in SoCal by Terry Senate, and happens to be one of his older boards. Obviously I googled. Google is god. The guy selling it wanted $150 for it, and I tried to talk him down to $100…but managed to meet in the middle at $125. Most of the Senate boards that I see new were in the $550-850 range. Pretty good score!

Holy Silver Surfer Batman! It’s wide and floaty, with a rounded nose. Somewhat ugly even but mostly in its age, given the usual dings and pressure junk on the deck, but it’s in wildly good shape compared to all the other beaters I’ve seen posted for $300 on up. It does have an air of hauntedness to it, though. I don’t think my ghost likes it (because it's currently occupying the hallway he likes to haunt)…and I’ll probably wind up killing myself on it, but hey, you gotta live. I suspect this may be the type of board Terry trains his surf students on, judging from pictures of his surf camp.

Ennyhoo...

Friday was a good fun outing with , Muppet Man, Libitina, and Joetech. I get to see Joetech maybe once a month now - which is a heck of a lot more than 3 years at a stretch, so that was nifty. Originally it was supposed to be a big Gay Night Out with just me and and LipGlossBoy, but we ran late to the event and didn't make it.

Sunday was of course, big Gay Parade Day and Muppet Man and Libitina have never been to it...so we checked that out, then headed to Taylor's for burgers and garlic fries.

Putting together a package this week to send out to a potential new agent. Wish me luck.

The new DUI trial date is October 1st. Wish me double luck on that.

Labels: gay pride, surfing

posted by Rain at 11:49 AM

Tomorrow is International Surfing Day

Surfrider Foundation has a list of local events in your 'hood. For NorCal - here's ours. Ran into a couple gals in the break room today who also surf...one of them is just getting back into it. She said when she was 15, she and two other gals would go out into the waves in Santa Cruz and the male surfers would spit on them, and say things like "women belong on their backs, not a board," and so on.

I've never been spit on, or given any derrogatory commentary (within earshot), though I suspect it was a lot like when I used to play guitar in a rock n' roll band when I was a kid (17 and out playing gigs at clubs with a fake ID). If I walked into a music store to get some strings or tubes for my amp, or gods forbid a new axe, I'd have to actually wave money in the air to get help. Or worse, I'd get ye olde, "Can I interest you in a microphone?" comment. Doubly worse when my old bassist, CraigMonster, would drag me out to jam sessions with other band mates he knew.

One time in particular I recall suiting up the gitfiddle with him, only to have half the (male) musicians in the room leave. What was left was a drummer and rhythm guitarist who only played sitting down and looked like Nigel Tufnel from Spinal Tap. They were good; we were good, and halfway through the first song all those asshats came back. "Wow, you actually sound good." Said one. I won't tell you how many of the other ones I had to glare angrily at when they asked me out four beers or so later.

Anyway, those times have changed too, with the emergence of girl rockers like Courtney Love (who didn't exist on anyones radar during the hairband days I played out in)...so we no longer have to rely soley on shredders like Lita Ford or Jennifer Batten. As with music, so has surfing evolved.

Get out and surf, ladies. Respect the beach, respect yourselves, and rip and carve your way to a cool new surfer nickname. :)

Labels: music, surfing

posted by Rain at 3:33 PM

WIP readers needed and a Strong Aversion to Pink

Two things:

1) *gulp* I need WIP readers. That's Works In Progress readers, to those of you who don't know...but would like to. I have 2 weeks to pound out two projects (possibly three). If you'd like to be on the distribution list for the work as it becomes written, your feedback will be invaluable. Ordinarily I don't do WIP lists - I finish something and then send it to 3 people I know and respect the opinions of, but this deadline calls for something more tangible, and WIP readers will keep me honest. email me if you want to be part of this list, and I will send you an invitation to join the (private) yahoo group.

2) Can someone please tell me why board shapers that make Wahine boards make them so gawdawfulfugly?

Exhibit A - the Walden. This one is probably the worst I've seen.
Exhibit B - Another Walden.

Exhibit C - The over use of PINK is astounding, though this Surf Betty is a bit better looking than the two above.

Of course the most important thing is how she rides - but...

Seriously, guys. Loose the pink and those grandma flowers. I'd take an old yellowed beater with questionable looking epoxy patch bubbles before I'd hop on that first one - even though it is a Walden. Of course, buying a board is expensive, so it's not like I'd turn it down if it was free...(please don't give me a free one). But it's one thing to be laughed out of the ocean because you suck at surfing...it's another thing entirely to be laughed out of the waves because your board looks like your mother's dress as it was in 1985, and your neighbor's kids Easter basket.

You'd have to be really secure with your inner vagina to ride that board. (My inner vagina is a Great White Shark, I'm pretty sure.)

For those of you who are reading this that play a musical instrument, just imagine what you'd look like with a guitar slung across your groin sporting that pinky-flowery paint job, and you'll be cringing just the same. I'm pretty sure is probably contemplating ways to get me back for that image, right about now. Should I further add to envision what the boogie would look like in neon floral? Tee hee.

Labels: surfing, writing

posted by Rain at 1:44 PM

The Week in Type


Friday: Happy Hour was supposed to contain but I got there too late due to office calls and one surley friend who was on his way to Vegas, Baby. Blue Hair Michelle joined me, however, and we had dinner at the new and improved Nob Hill Grill. Please support this neighborhood place - they've really changed it up under the new ownership. The food is reasonably priced (for really good food in a diner atmosphere) and they have a great bathroom. I walked in early that morning and sighed. Big Hot Short Board Surfer was behind the register, and he asked me, "What can I get you?". I said, "I'm hung over. Bad." So he made me this amazing English muffiny goodness with sausage patties the size of burgers (I dare say it was homemade or butcher shop sausage - their ingredients are fresh and very good), some kind of fancy cheese, egg...and home fries. He plied me with brewed tea mingled with raspberry Torani syrup (though I admit this made me sick later because I drank two fast glasses of it there, waiting for the food). I told him he'd cured my hangover when I went to dinner with Blue Hair Michelle, and they were special-nice to us.

And then...Karaoke was suggested by Beastmaster. KILLED it with Sinatra and Patsy Cline. Blue Hair Michelle refused to sing and stated that I had broken all the rules of karaoke simply because I *could* sing and didn't tell them. Beastmaster sang U2 and was imminently disappointed that they didn't get to his second song. I have photos of this. Oh yes, I have photos.

Saturday: Impromptu dinner party at Casa De La Rain, when Libitina found she wasn't feeling well and we had to cancel our plans. Beastmaster made an amazing Italian pork dish (OMG - ground pork, bacon, garlic, onions, olive oil, marinara sauce... what's not to like???), made a salad and brought some Caprese fixins, which I put together. There was so much food just in these little items that only Thumbelina had room for desert (I made strawberry shortcake just for her). She promptly crashed out in the bedroom, and couldn't finish the end of The Never Ending Story.

I always love it when kids give you things they make, too. She drew me a thank-you card for her birthday gifts and then had me leaf through the book I gave her (The Wolves in the Walls) to find her picture waiting for me. She didn't stay up long enough for me to read to her, though, so we're saving that for another night. After she hit the hay, the adults hit the wine. We went through my entire wine fridge (12 bottle capacity and 6 bottles full) throughout that evening...and were up laughing and talking until 6am. (At one point around 3:30 we didn't have the heart to wake up Thumbelina for the walk her home, so we let her sleep until Morning). Midnight did a brief drive-by somewhere in the middle, and though Darkmas had been invited, he didn't have the opportunity to come.

Sunday: Recoup Day. Many re-runs of Carnivale (HBO). Midnight invited me to a BBQ, but man, I was toast, so no...couldn't go. Early bedtime; very content.

Monday: Surf report at Linda Mar was for head high to 1 foot overhead waves, so the Surfistas and I decided to go to Zeitgeist instead. Chardonnay met me, Brit Pop, and Midnight there. Other Joe showed up to chat, followed by Joetech and his girlfriend. About 3 and 4pm I got text messages from SnakeBite and Surfchitect telling me they just got back from Linda Mar and it was off the hook. Snakebite just bought a bandit board and has renounced his 8'4 long(ish)board. I now have the 8'4 privilege whenever I like. Yay! Surfchitect has also granted me borrow of his 9'2 longboard, which would probably be way more stable for me. I'm waiting to hear back on a hot Walden Magic Board - but it’s a 9'4 and would be a bitch to carry. Snakebite had already gone home; Surfchitect did stop in for a beer, and we chatted about the 2 waves he caught. Snake bite was catching everything with the bandit. Eventually everyone dispersed as the sun went winding down, and Brit Pop, Other Joe, and I headed over to Bigfoot, where we met up with more friends (Beastmaster included). Did not get to hang later with SnakeBite, though we'd tried to plan around my buds and his BBQing. All in all, a nice wind down to the holiday weekend. Promised dinner to him last night before he left town today, which was fun, as I got to check out the hot new board. It’s a shorty alright, but looks fast. Not sure I will do well with his 8'4, but anything's possible. I'm just so used to those big honkin' Sunset training longboards.

This week has been busy at the office, and PianoMan has begun to call me about my DUI case, of which, the trial is in July. Its going to cost $800 for that forensic expert to testify (ouch), and my entire bonus check is going to PianoMan (for his graciously reduced and nominal fee of $2500 for good lawyering. I don't know what I'd do without my Gay Mafia behind me). We have a good case building. [and people wonder why I'm always broke].

I heard from Judge Clooney today and it seems his father has taken a turn for the worse with cancer...he may not make the trip with the rest of the boys in a few weeks, but did indeed finish his Marathon. I'm very sad for him and proud of him at the same time. I hate it when tough things happen to wonderful people. There's been a lot of that going around this week.

This upcoming weekend: Surfing Saturday. Saturday evening is the Ox Crew Allnight BBQ; I will be reading tarot cards. Flasheley is up from LA; possible happy hour Friday. If surfing doesn't happen Saturday, Sunday is the other option...though I know I have some kind of obligation that day which escapes me. Catch up on short stories I owe to folks will likely be this weekend, too.

Labels: food, friends, surfing

posted by Rain at 3:07 PM

Piddly Doings and I Heart Your Longboard

Well, I’ll be darned.

I just attended a meeting of what a portion of our programming looks like…at least, one type of it. Since we all get bogged down with producing the creative, we don’t always get to see what other teams are working on. When you go to a supermarket and there are TV screens at the checkout, what you see on those screens is what we do: it’s an in-store television network of branded or unbranded content. It’s specifically not advertising – but more a customer experience. The idea is not to advertise to the viewer, but rather engage them so they don’t feel agro about the wait time in a line. After all, you have already made your choices at that point, and seeing a commercial while waiting in line is more likely to make you *more* agitated.

I’m pretty stoked about a lot of the things we’ve done, but never really saw (before) this type of content.

Some things to catch you up to speed… The signature sheets for IN LAYMON’S TERMS are nearly on the way. No update on the release of BARFODDER, however.

Had a 50/50 weekend. The nights seemed to go great; the days…meh…not so great. On Friday I hung out with (lets see if I can find a suitable code name, here…hmmm…maybe I’ll go with his cat’s name) Stella and we checked out a Cuban restaurant called Laurel in Hayes Valley, which was pretty good – except for the squid being rubbery in the seafood stew I had. Mmmmmm…chewy tentacles.

The flavors and spices were an interesting mix of spicy-mild but flavorful, which is something I like a lot. Having not seen Stella in ten years (aside from a brief catch-up at Bigfoot last week), re-connecting was a really cool thing. It’s always great to spend time with people you haven’t seen for a decade and feel as if you never lost touch at all.

Saturday evening, I kicked it with Chardonnay at the Cigar Bar, then headed over to the other Cigar Bar for a birthday party for Snake Bite’s friend. There was a live Cuban Salsa band, and we all danced, caroused, and generally had a blast. My salsa (especially Cuban) is very rusty, but I had more than enough willing dance partners. MachoLatino might recall what I said to him years ago, at a hip hop club when we went up to the Salsa room and he started…well…dancing (?). “Oh, honey…you are thinking, ‘I am latin – there-fore I can,’” – and he couldn’t. He could tango, but not salsa. Snake Bite’s buddies were much the same, except only one of them was Latin. One of them had a tattoo of Texas on his arm, too. I give all of them props for having the balls to try, though, and having a heck of a good time doing it. Later, a very good Cuban dancer invited me to dance, but I was much in my martini’s by then. Though I held my own, I wasn’t exactly graceful in the execution, I think.

Sunday I was supposed to surf, but wound up doing laundry at Libitina’s instead. Her husband now has a new nickname: Muppet Man. He prefers Kermit, but I just can’t go there. The inside joke is far too embarrassing for me not to take full advantage of it (think furries…he “found the orifice” once). We spent the day going through Libitina’s closet, tossing old things that don’t fit, trying on things that might still fit, and so forth. It’s extremely depressing to see the girl has dwindled to a size Double Zero (yep, I said it – the 00 word), but she is a tiny thing to begin with, and eating healthy, and doing yoga – so there’s not much to kibosh her with; she’s doing it right.

Muppet Man opened up an amazing French Bordeaux that we had all thought had been aged too long and was spent. When he decanted it, it smelled dead, really. Tasted vinegarish. After 30 minutes, the aroma was of vanilla and slightly floral. It tasted dry, but smooth. Another 30 minutes and that wonderful fall leaves quality was in the nose, and the flavor was incredible – it almost drank like water, it was so smooth and complex, but light on the palate. It was a 1999, but I can’t recall the name…must…ask…the frog.

Was going to hang with Midnight Sunday evening, but got home too late and was too pooped to pip. We rarely get to see much of Midnight these days. He works, and then he works some more, and we all miss him. When he has free time, we try to jump on it. Alas, I had to sleep in stead.

Monday morning I received some beautiful flowers at the office. Played a few rounds of dice after work. Lost miserably (thankfully not money), but the whole gang was there (even Snake Eyes – not to be confused with Snake Bite, though they are both surfers. Snake Eyes you might recall, is of the Ocean Beach Incident. Snake Bite was in Bolinas). At one point it was Muppet Man, Chardonnay, Snake Eyes, WineBob, WineRob (aka Dread Pirate Rob, as he has a sailboat we’ve all been on, and he plunders booty), (c)Superman, Mork-n-Mindy (who are actually two separate people but married, so they are practically the same), Rodney Dangerfield (because he looks and acts just like…yep), and later…even Sparkling Banker With Fruit Garnish and Brit Pop showed up. The gang was all there. I do love the gang. Chardonnay is heading to the east coast next week for her birthday, and I’m going to try and hook her up for drinkies and surf talk with WaterWookie and his girlfriend.

More is on the plate this week: Libitina tomorrow; Corporate shindig Friday (which I may bail on); Stella on Saturday; and Guido’s birthday bbq on Sunday. The Fabulous Home of Large Felines () on Monday for more of her fabulous culinary sKiLLz with on Monday.

Cripes. No wonder I’ve had no time to clean.

On a side note…I’m getting rid of those ghastly huge Monster THX Surround Sound speakers in my livingroom to make room for a longboard. If you live locally (I will not ship them) and want to swap for say…a Johnny Rice longboard or want to just buy the speakers (which would give me the cash for a new board), drop me a note. (raingraves "at" yahoo).

Here’s the info on the speakers. Brand new, never used (because they are HUGE and I live in an apartment – my neighbors would hunt me down and kill me). The monster speaker cables are included with the speakers. The speakers retail for $800 a piece, and the cables usually retail for about $150. So make me a reasonable offer (one that will reasonably buy me a new longboard), and they're yours.

If you've got a longboard to trade - WaterWookie has been helping me figure out what exactly I need: 8’6 to 9 foot, between 2 and 2.5” thick (though not as important as length), that will catch any wave, is easy to paddle and turn, and good for beginners on up. If it's used it's got to be water-tight, like new with no repairs needed, or new and never used, and have progressive rails. Tri-fin set-up. One big fin box with two side biters that can be removed. It can be ugly or even girly, as long as it performs like a dream. I saw a used Johnny Rice women's longboard that was exactly what I wanted...alas, its $500.

Since all the free mad-money is going to PianoMan (lawyer) in May, and I'm still playing catch-up, I will not be splurging unless I sell the speakers.

Labels: friends, surfing, tango

posted by Rain at 3:59 PM

The Undertow is the Undertaker.

Sometimes the human brain amazes me. The ability to know you are in serious trouble, get a handle on your panic, and then one by one, your brain logically pulls a file on a different scenario that might get you out of that situation alive. You don’t have time to get the royal treatment – life flashing before your eyes, white lights, yadda, yadda. You simply think, If I don’t do something right now, I’m going to die…and then you try each scenario until you can’t think anymore. There are only two options, you either die or you don’t. I didn’t. But I almost drowned. As an extremely good swimmer, this astounds me. Now I understand how it can happen.

Our "friend" who we will call Snake Eyes from the cigar bar we hang at and play dice with suggested we surf with him at Ocean Beach, and told us he'd give us a lesson. What he didn't tell us was how treacherous the rip tides, rip currents, undertow, and wave breaks are there. He didn’t tell us that it’s advised no one even swim in the water because of these issues, and only the best surfers should ever attempt the challenge those crazy waves present. He was running late. Really late. An hour and a half late.

During that hour and a half, I was the only one who got in the water. The other gals were too afraid of the way the waves were breaking. Having just spent $54 on new booties, and another $65 combined renting the wetsuit, and the boards, I decided I wasn't going to sit around - I wanted to surf. I have only been stubborn to the point of stupidity one other time in my life. The result was not good.

So...Chardonnay had checked the surf report, which said the waves were going to be neck high, and head high in the late afternoon. Low tide was at 10am, and we hit the beach around 1:30pm. I watched carefully where the craziness was occurring, and avoided the rip current pockets, as were the other surfers. I went down the beach where it looked like the rip current wasn't moving towards. It was going down beach to the right, towards the Cliff House. What I didn't know was that in a split second, as soon as I turned my back to it, it would change left... I walked until I got to a spot where other surfers were surfing (always a wise idea - avoiding the pockets where no one is could save your life) and asked one surfer coming out of the water how bad the current was, and he said it was not that bad. I asked him how the undertow was, and he said it was fine...”Just ride the rip tide in and it's faster,” he said. “Not as much paddling.” I went in, and it took about 5 seconds to get me out to the breaking waves, beyond them, and where I could sit and wait for a good one to try and catch.

Something was wrong, though. The waves weren’t coming. It was like the calm before the storm. I felt like I was in the eye of a hurricane, an chaos was erupting around me, but not on me. This was great until I realized where I was - right smack in the middle of that rip current that had moved left, instead of continuing right. I figured it out when I turned my board to point towards the beach, and looked back over my shoulder at the wave coming. I panicked. Then I had to calm myself down because if I panicked, I wouldn’t get out of the bad situation I was in. I’d breath too hard and shallow, and not be able to surf in. That’s how people drown, I thought. I wasn’t going to do that.

The waves at ocean beach don't come like normal waves. Some even roll backward, back out to sea. These were coming at me from the side, at a diagonal, on both the left and the right, and all at the same time. They were coming in sets of rapid succession – behind one, was another one waiting to crest. I couldn't just turn my board to shore and ride one in - because I couldn't catch them at that angle. It was like being at the point of a triangle. At neck high, missing a wave meant it curled and crashed on my head. At that point, I realized a foam long board could kill me, because it’s not the right kind of board to ride those waves. I’ve since learned they even make special boards specifically for Ocean Beach surfing – the waves are that nutty.

When I fell off the long board, the wave rolled me and the board like an alligator’s death roll, and then the undertow grabbed me and held me down under hard and fast. It was a struggle to swim against it to get to the surface and air. When I finally did, another big wave immediately crashed on my head, the undertow took me down again, and this happened repetitively for 6 wave sets, one right after the other, in a washing machine cycle, until I was so tired I had to let the undertow take me all the way to the bottom so I could push off the floor to get back up for air. Thank goodness I could hold my breath really long - I took water in each time I hit surface from the crashing foam.

At this point, I was too weak to get back on the board and try to ride foam in, and even if I could, it wouldn't have taken me anywhere. The angled waves were holding me there in that deadly rip current triangle, and I was way, way too far from shore. I knew I was in real trouble because I only had so much strength left to hold my breath and fight the undertow. At one point I thought I could detach the board and swim to shore, but the board was the only thing keeping me floating, and I was too weak even to swim. The waves just kept coming like that, and I kept getting pounded. I knew at that point, I was going to drown. Every time I went back under it was harder for me to hold my breath and get back up for air. And every time as I was going down, I was thinking, this is how people drown. This is how I will drown, though I don’t think I should drown, if I can help it. I wonder how long I can help it.

No one was around me, and I was swept far down beach, and didn’t know it. I saw a surfer to my right once, and tried to wave and signal I was in trouble. It looked like he was trying to make his way over until a wave pounded him too. At that point I was just waving and yelling (not that anyone could hear me) for help. I figured one of the girls on shore would be paying attention to where I was, and see me wave. I never wave. They’d have to know something was wrong. Maybe they could get help. But…there are only two lifeguards for the entire stretch of Ocean Beach. There’s not much that could be done in the way of help. It would be too late by the time help arrived.

Then I saw Chardonnay coming towards me, with her boogie board. I panicked - and started waving her back to beach, but she couldn't hear me saying "Go back!" I was terrified she'd get into the same mess I was in, and we'd both be goners. As she started to get closer, she saw the look on my face and yelled out, “Are you ok,” and I shook my head, and said “No. I need help – but don’t come out here. It’s not safe.”

I kept pointing the board towards shore, hanging on off the side, and riding the foam at an angle to get closer to the beach. I sprained my toe trying to dig it into the ocean floor like an anchor when the rip current started dragging me back out to sea again. I finally got to where I could touch bottom and walk a little, and she got a little closer and grabbed my hand and tried to pull hard towards the shelf where we could stand on the sand and the water was only waist high. I couldn't hardly hold myself up to walk at that point and I was shaking pretty bad. When we got to the beach, she had to take the leash off my leg for me and carry the board - I couldn't do it myself. “What happened?” She asked. “I almost drowned,” I said. “I’m going to f’ing KILL Snake Eyes. This is not a novice surf spot. It’s not even an intermediate surf spot. I’m never surfing here again.”

When I got back to our stuff, I sat down and looked down for the bottle of water I had some where, and all of a sudden all this water came out of my nose like a waterfall. It was awful. I knew I’d taken water in, but I hadn’t known it was trapped in my head. Every few minutes, the waterfall happened again, until it was all out (I thought).

My life didn't flash before my eyes and there was no white light. I was able to think logically to handle the situation, but I really had no business surfing in Ocean Beach. When Snake Eyes finally showed up I was too angry to even say anything at all. I was remarkably calm and quiet for me…and this is usually a deadly thing, with Scorpios. The girls told him what happened. He asked me some questions about the current the 'washing machine' effect, and then all he said was, "Hmm. I think I brought the wrong board." And headed in... Chardonnay said, "I hope his surf board cracks him in the head." And then we all chimed in, "And look, he's got no ass to offset his beer gut." Which I think he heard, because he rubbed his butt self consciously.

He, of course, lives near there and surfs there all the time. He's surfed for 20 years. What possessed him to think it was safe for five novice surfers to try to surf THERE, where you shouldn't even SWIM, is beyond me. Even the pros say it’s treacherous.

I think we saw him come in on a tide variation, and go home. He didn't even say goodbye (not that we cared – I probably would have torn him a new one, as I’d had time to stew and settle and stop shaking).

Asshat.

At the surf shop when I was taking off my wetsuit, another waterfall of water came out of my head. Oh, the joys of almost drowning.

It was clear to me later that only locals can handle the currents and waves there, and even those are few and far between. We watched them, the scattered 10, the rest of the day. They had to catch the waves at an angle just as they were cresting, because they don’t create a pipeline. The waves would carry them really, really high, almost on the crest, or really low which would bottom them out when the crest foamed and crashed on them. By late afternoon the waves were no longer neck high, but head high, and the rip current had swept back right all the way down the beach towards the Cliff House again. It was taking surfers REALLY far out to sea on the tide, then sweeping them all down beach to the right when they caught some lighter foam and paddled in. It was nuts. I don't know how they do it there. You aren't even supposed to swim in that water, and there were so few surfers out there, they had to have balls of steel.

I’m thankful the girls were there. The cardinal rule: Never surf alone, kept repeating in my head.

Pacifica and Bolinas are different worlds, in comparison.

"The ocean doesn’t want me today. But I’ll be back tomorrow to play…” –Tom Waits

Labels: surfing

posted by Rain at 11:24 AM

Surfing is HARD.

My New Years Resolution was to learn how to Surf. Chardonnay and Brit Pop are the gals from the Cigar bar, and since they had both done this seemingly interesting yet awkward task before, it was all decided we would go together. The first time was at Linda Mar on a really warm day, and the beach was littered with surfers out at the second break.

We got there too early to rent wetsuits and boards at the surf shop that actually rents booties and gloves, so we stuck it out with NorCal, instead, which was open earlier on a Sunday. For some reason, they didn’t have a wetsuit in my size (and I’m learning this is the case wherever you rent a wetsuit), and I wound up having to wear the smallest man-suit. If you’ve never tried to put on a wetsuit, it’s pretty much half the battle of surfing. It’s like squeezing yourself into a sausage casing. The only way to know if it’s too small is if you are too stiff to move and the blood circulation is getting cut off in your calves.

The only way to know if it’s too big is if once you are in the water that freezing rush somehow scoots in through your neck, chills you down your back and bubbles somewhere around the thighs. Man-suits, unfortunately, have that extra area for man-parts, which feels awkward and penguin-like on a woman. Still, this is necessary evil, considering the sub-zero temperatures of the Pacific Ocean, even on a warm day. Since our hands and feet were unprotected, Chardonnay eclipsed a nice purple shade to her pale feet and hands, and mine were a bright and cheery red. We had to step out every 15 minutes or so, because we couldn’t feel our feet or hands anymore.

That day I barely got to my knees, was totally intimidated by the sheer heavy and unwieldy way a long board is, and had no idea what to do with the waves. I stuck to the boogie board Chardonnay had brought, and made friends with the ocean. Linda Mar is not known for sharks, either, though I hadn’t thought much about getting munched being so close to shore and chicken-shit about the craft itself. In short, I had no idea what I was doing. Chardonnay made it to her knees a few times. After an hour and a half, we were both beat, and hit the road. I should add that peeling off a wetsuit is so much more pleasant and easy than squeezing into one. Our arms felt like we’d just done 40 push ups (I can only do one).This past Sunday we made a plan to go to Bolinas and take an actual lesson from an actual pro. The guys at 2 Mile were extremely nice and helpful, and we even determined what size wetsuit would be best in a brand I could remember. I had to go with a bigger size in the girl-suits, because they were out of the dang 12.

It wasn’t so bad, since they had booties for us, too. The walk to and from the surf shop was probably the hardest part of the day – those long boards they use for training (you’ve all seen them – big and blue with a white underbelly – really give you a work out just getting to the water and back.We trudged along, Chardonnay, Brit Pop, and I, to meet the high tide. At the entrance we noticed several things: 1) the tide had swallowed the beach. Entirely. 2) A sign that read “Great Whites Live Here,” in blood red letters. 3) beautiful murals and graffiti with a poets corner, marred by a stark white spray painted warning that said, “Commuter surfers suck.”

Despite this intimidation, every person we encountered that day was extremely nice and helpful. Not at all territorial or unwelcoming. This was contrary to what most people locally know about Bolinas and its sentiment towards tourists in general; they don’t want them there, don’t need them there, and prefer to keep their tiny town a local tight knit community. To accomplish keeping those Stinson Beach tourists away, the Bolinas Border Patrol takes down any signs that might indicate how to *get* to Bolinas…but luckily the surf shop has directions that work without the street signs, so we didn’t have trouble finding it at all.Our very-easy-on-the-eyes Jedi Surf Master took us along the beautiful sandy beach, past a totem pole, beyond a giant fallen tree, into the land of Evil Rocks From Hell.

He explained that though the “rocky patch” was a bit on the treacherous side, the waves were breaking better out there, and it wasn’t as crowded. We felt better about not interfering with *real* surfers and their bit-niz, so for the moment, this seemed like a good idea. Until we kept going. We finally got to a small cove where there was some beach lingering before the high tide, where Jedi Surf Master gave us pointers on surf etiquette, the sweet spot, balancing, how to stand up, which ways to stand up, what type of wave to look for, when to paddle, and how to fall and still protect your head. “I’ve never seen anyone fall properly,” he said, “but since these rocks are pretty shallow, you really want to try to flop and not dive off the board—otherwise you could hit your head on a rock, and that wouldn’t be good.”This didn’t sink in until we began wading out with the long boards to the waves, which were a good 200-300 feet out.

The shallow end was *all* rocks—big ones too—so many rocks that we could barely walk. So we tried paddling out, which was self defeating since our arms would be so tired by the time we got out to the waves, we wouldn’t be able to do anything but rest. So back to the rocky bottom we stumbled, banging our toes (despite the booties), bumping a knee, and sometimes a hip. Considering there were at least 4 large rocks that hid themselves in 4 feet of water just below the surface by about a foot, we were beginning to really consider what Jedi Surf Master said about protecting your head when you wiped out. I was beginning to wonder about my back and legs too. Still, we were determined to surf.We finally got out to where we could accomplish something, and hopped on—no, let me rephrase that—flopped onto the boards.

Jedi Surf Master was right there with us, and one by one he helped us catch our waves. I was surprised that I got to my knees just about every single time – and I found I could ride those waves all the way without falling off until was certain I was clear of one of those big rocks. Further, I almost stood up once. My bootie had other ideas…it got stuck on the tacky blue part of the long board and I couldn’t slide it further up.The thing I learned that was most valuable was to take my time, once I got to the part where I was balancing and ready to *try* to stand up, there was plenty of time to ride that wave, as long as had the balance over the sweet spot to get up and with it. I never quite got there, but had fun catching waves all the same. Brit Pop did in fact stand up once.

Chardonnay’s fear of the unknown rocks lurking just beneath us did her in – she prefers to know what’s down there. Judging the waves on our way back down the beach that the other surfers in the sandy portion of the beach were catching, we definitely had the best waves in the rocky patch. Despite the Evil Rocks from Hell, it was a good lesson in watch to watch out for and how to be careful, and not stupid. Ironically even the water was warmer in Bolinas – 54 degrees – quite a bit warmer than Linda Mar was. I didn’t freeze my hands off, despite not having gloves. In fact, I didn’t even notice the cold. Now it’s just a matter of practice on a regular basis.

Brit Pop and I have decided to invest in wetsuits…maybe eventually a board, if we get to that point. WaterWookie has been encouraging me, of course, as he’s been surfing since…geeze…since we got out of High School.I think, perhaps, I was not even embarrassed until I saw someone I knew, and became painfully aware of how unattractive a wetsuit can be on a woman. “You look pretty cute in that wetsuit,” he said, “…little surfer girl.” I stole a peek at his ass as he walked away, and noticed it did more for men, than it did for women. Now, two days later, I am still experiencing major soreness.

It’s the good kind of sore though – the kind you get from a great workout. By the end of our surfing excursion, our arms felt like anvils at our sides, and we were exhausted to the point of a zen kind of delirium. We’d packed a picnic of fried chicken, fruit salad, mascarpone, and cheese with crackers. Thank the gods for who ever invented Vitamin Water. It put me in my happy place, as we lounged on the beach until the sun started going down. All in all, it was an excellent day. The most fun I've had in the great out doors in a while. !@#$ hiking. Surfing is King.

Labels: surfing

posted by Rain at 1:48 PM