Decisions decisons. I just can't decide what to focus today's bullshit towards. Should I go with...
a)Motherfucking Tron video game from 1982


b)Tool-Aenima...
"Fuck L Ron Hubbard and
Fuck all his clones.
Fuck all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Fuck retro anything.
Fuck your tattoos.
Fuck all you junkies and
Fuck your short memory.
Fuck smiley glad-hands
With hidden agendas.
Fuck these dysfunctional,
Insecure actresses."


-or-

c)Me on vacation.

Gettin it on

This is the big morning I've been waiting for. Time to battle the ticket I got while riding my bicycle. Let me repeat....BICYCLE. I'm sticking it to the man right now at the Superior Court Of California, County of Santa Barbara. Check in time is 8:30. It's the classic struggle of Good(myself) against evil(that cocksucker, officer C W Kamin). Mano y mano.

**UPDATE 11:07am**
I am officially a gigantic pussy on the stand. The fuzz had it mostly right, I agreed somewhat, explained that I didn't want to die wearing spandex and Italian shoes, and was found VERY guilty. I lose. But I also get a $250 bail reduction, got away from the desk for a morning, and I wasted some fuckhead cop's time. A little ying in my yang.

The Hefe

Whoo hoo! Feeling an early onset of job rage for 2010. The usual autumn cubicle hate has already begun and it's only mid-summer. Boring fucking desk job is destryoing me yet building my future. Mental battle is overwhelming. The urge to explode, throw shit, break things, and run away to the tropics to get completely off the grid wearing a loin cloth is overwhelming. Struggling to focus now. Must fight. Got to soldier on. Need waves.

Swing Bike

In the race to build the better death trap, back in the 70's some coked-out disco inferno decided to give the common Schwinn Krate an extra joint. Not dope, they added an extra pivot directly under your taint. Instead of stability, they thought it wise for the frame to be as stiff as wilted celery. Why not let the ass-end of the rig whip around on the edge of control? In this current time of Political Correctness and pussification, this design marvel would never get mass produced because part of the fun is jack-knifing and smashing the shit outta your shins. That's why I'm starting the hunt. There's gotta be one show up on Craigslist just fucking begging for me to crush myself trying to master the "cloverleaf".

I always ask myself...What Would Jimmy Osmond Do?

Win!

Everything except the part about smoking The Weed is true.

Hermitizing 101

Every once once in a while you do the right thing, you're a good person, and life treats you to something special. Well last night, nearly 9 long months of struggling paid off for me bigtime. We got some Cox. The cable TV is hooked up. It's a beautiful fucking thing. I love the idiot box, man. It will increase my hermitability by about 300%. Last night after stupidly grinning to myself for a while, then making a quick phone call to a highly distracted Tonto, I gave the couch a trial run of slothing. I watched about an hour of nothing but fell asleep right before the big climb up Torumalet. The leg-busting hillclimb I've be stoked to watch for months. Thank god for Youtube.

south swells lined up

Summer is over.
Almost needing the four/three.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.


Cold, peaky, junky.
Sat patiently in one zone.
Lotso fun pockets.


Many a closeout.
Hopeless late head high drop ins.
I take them happily.

Papa

Ernest Hemingway would be celebrating his 111th birthday today if...
A) he were still alive
B) hadn't blown his brains out at his home in Sun Valley, Idaho.

a view from the top

My favorite teriyaki restaurant of all time is Yasuko's in Seattle. Big juicy heaps of succulent pork or chicken over a bed of rice drizzled with sauce along with a small pile of deliciously marinated cabbage to keep the pipes clean. I used to score that shit nightly. I love teriyaki. I also love Guayaki. It's yerba matte. That's tea. It's been helping me avoid napping in the afternoon. Yah sure, it's all hippy with the Fair Trade and Organic marketing scam. But more importantly...it brings on the afternoon sweats cuz it's got a shit ton of caffeine. Make it part of your training table. It's the beverage of champions.

boring

There's been a bit of a lull around Recluse Central. Nothing going on really. Surfed The Ranch yesterday, but not much for waves. Being in the water is always fun, but it wasn't anything outstanding. With all my extra free time I don't know what to do with myself. I've been hitting the road cycling hard and stinking up the gym. I'm a world class sweater these days. We had a little heatwave, so I've been out bronzing the fat. And I've also been trying to figure out life...unsuccessfully. So it's now monday, I'm back at the desk, plugged into the soul sucking machine. We have some waves coming this week, so cool shit will start happening again. I need it. Really bad.

2 months

Fucking desk jobs...don't ever get one. They are the worst. Sure, steady cheese and a future is nice, but it sucks your soul dry, like a mudguppy in a desert. One of the few enjoyable things to look forward to is WCT webcasts. Pro jocks, slashing waves and getting pitted so pitted at epic locations. All delivered to my desk throught the magic of the intenet, glowing a foot from my face. Warming my innerds. Filling me with joy. Making me whole again. Fantasy Surfer makes it even better. We've had 2 long months between the last contest and this one, and I'm fired up. Nap time is over, let's get it on. J-Bay starts thursday and 8 foot swell is predicted. My team is set to dominate...Kelly(the Champ), Mick(fastest surfer alive), Jordy(strong as an Ox), Dane(world's most exciting surfer), Andy(if he can keep off the Colmbian Marching Powder), Dusty(Hawaiian), Simpo(dark horse), and Sean Holmes(local boy). Don't go cheatin and copy my team.

Hot Buttered

I spent the last couple days as a slave to The Man. I was road ragin in San Diego and repping my balls off. Even ran into Douchebag McGregor and again forgot to get his actual name. The timing for this delivery run was perfect to make a slight detour to pick up the new shred stick that I ordered a couple months back. Hank Warner shaped me up one of Terry Fitzgerald's Hot Buttered Surfboards Modern Drifta. I'm sofa king stoked on how it came out. These used to be only available in Australia, but Hank picked up the US licensing. Having never seen a Drita in person, just in videos and mags, I didn't know what to expect. It's got some funky wing like things right by the sdiebitters that look like some gnarly-ass eagle talons for mega gripping green room walls. It's overall a bit thicker at 2.8, and the nose is a big stump. Can't wait for the next swell to christen this bitch.

Big Red(Classic Drifta) makes an appearance at 1:55...