chance of. . .showers

i slept on the beach at my usual lay up spot behind a large log and ball with a small sand bowl- only to be awakened by wet and the sound of a hugely high tide crashing and a failed tent, rainwater boiling into my 1970's windbreaker A-frame woodland tent-
so i crawl out of bed soaked all my gear drenched /look up and see the waves maybe four feet from my face- shit- i run, in the deluge, away- scratch on uncle A's van door and crawl in soggy and cold to sleep in the passenger seat with a wet down jacket for warmth-
at five i wake and watch as the clouds battle the sky and sun in an epic turf war- as i hike to dry my cloths, find a cup of coffee and try to generate some warmth

but look at this sky / broiling/ churning

such a wonder- to witness alone wet alive and awake

big swells have already come dragging away the sand and delivering logger remainders/ choker ?

the next night sleeping in my sun dried gear and tent again- i was awoken by the stars- pulling my hair -i crawled out of bed and stood staring at the swirling fuzzy stars and felt like i would die here, not tonight/but someday and that the stars were telling me that they knew and would wait for me- and tonight they'd suck some sloppy taste of my soul- as i stood in the sand with cold bare feet and salty eyelids-but not from crying

Dukes or someone was sleeping in that pile of crushed flaccid tent

i had a nice romantic walk with myself

this is how the kids leave a camp site- shitty-filthy fucked up and sawdusted

i think god came out of the sky and told me- i'm going to get you

bum still life with BBQ and water jug/keg cups and fuck

Arlington has been trying to get to the beach with us for years and this passed weekend we rolled out together in his '87 Vanagon- living the life- this man is a really good camper- lives large with fresh veggies, wraps and fruit-fresh coffee and tea- all geared up from years of living off the land in the mountains-feral
a vegetarian epicurean

Toby's first word

when the sun breached the sky the clouds popped with white boarders - this is the time i'm usually in the sea- so i can see the light smack the wave tops and i can paddle around alone and talk to whales, smelt and peeliecans

the birds are all sick and dying- there is an awesome menacing algae bloom off shore- everything is dead-

in the back ground you can see some huge tarp town some nutters have built, and built very well to have survived the previous nights gale force rain blast

the brown foamy wave and high tide line

this is where i'd drink tea with the Buddha if he existed and hung out at dirty south

some battlements constructed by tweakers to fight the leg growing whales and their merman aquanauts

i had wanted to start a surf magazine with no photographs of surfers- just waves and clouds and the life- called SAD !

beaver fever- old tire bridge- do you know how many drunk girls and guys i've watched fall into this shitty orange water

still life with BBQ and two fister- who brings a BBQ to the beach ? a beach where you can have open wild fires

i hope i don't get croaker* before i fly away to surf NY/NJ and family

how high the tide reaches and wave plums

*croaker is a type of fish on the east coast and the sickness i get after surfing there


  1. I wish I were there. One day my ashes will be.



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