This is proof some people are sicker than I am. I found this after the post. I thought I was just being clever. I bet this guy can't play and sing "Walkin on the Moon". Nah!w.b.z.n.
Monday, February 4, 2008
lego fallingwater
This is proof some people are sicker than I am. I found this after the post. I thought I was just being clever. I bet this guy can't play and sing "Walkin on the Moon". Nah!w.b.z.n.
Who Are You? Who, Who, Who, Who?
I recently got a pretty good offer to play in a cover band. They make good money and the guys have good reps as people and players. I have been trying to figure out a way to offset some debt we have, and to fill sand bags in our own pesonal real estate collapse. One of the ideas was to play again. I used to make a couple hundred bucks a night, it seemed fun at the time.
Cover music should be taken very lightly. It's good to be a solid player and to there is nothing wrong with playing in bars to people that couldn't deal with graduating high school or college, or the divorce that has put them back out there. Let's be clear, it ain't like you are Springsteen and this ain't the Meadowlands. Dig? If you built Fallingwater out of Lego's, that doesn't make you Frank Lloyd Wright. Still I admire the commitment.
One thing keeps entering my mind: How will this affect the current wave I am riding with my cycling? I have never enjoyed the base miles a much as I am right now. Solo rides are better, group rides are better, I have a new bike, things are good. I don't want to miss a Saturday death march, because I was making middle aged women shake their butts to "Funky Music". Nothing is more important or more telling about who you are than how you spend your time. So I just need to figure out if I want to wear the "Cutters" jersey or the "I'm with the Band" vintage tee.
I am surprised at how little this is bothering me. I was a musician for a long time and it seemed so important then. When you have a good night people clap, fat women tell you how awesome you are in publix, pretty ego building stuff. I think I would rather clean all the obstacles on Live Oak with no one around, or say, kick Darien's ass on a sprint, that's the stuff man.
Keep the gig, thanks for thinking of me though.
W.B.Z.N.
Cover music should be taken very lightly. It's good to be a solid player and to there is nothing wrong with playing in bars to people that couldn't deal with graduating high school or college, or the divorce that has put them back out there. Let's be clear, it ain't like you are Springsteen and this ain't the Meadowlands. Dig? If you built Fallingwater out of Lego's, that doesn't make you Frank Lloyd Wright. Still I admire the commitment.
One thing keeps entering my mind: How will this affect the current wave I am riding with my cycling? I have never enjoyed the base miles a much as I am right now. Solo rides are better, group rides are better, I have a new bike, things are good. I don't want to miss a Saturday death march, because I was making middle aged women shake their butts to "Funky Music". Nothing is more important or more telling about who you are than how you spend your time. So I just need to figure out if I want to wear the "Cutters" jersey or the "I'm with the Band" vintage tee.
I am surprised at how little this is bothering me. I was a musician for a long time and it seemed so important then. When you have a good night people clap, fat women tell you how awesome you are in publix, pretty ego building stuff. I think I would rather clean all the obstacles on Live Oak with no one around, or say, kick Darien's ass on a sprint, that's the stuff man.
Keep the gig, thanks for thinking of me though.
W.B.Z.N.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Circles part deux
I was talking on the ride today (like I always do) about how lucky we are to have a crew and cycling. I know how macho libre we all are, and I know we hate to say stuff like this but, thank God for our friends and the common thread....bikes. Hug it out Bitches!
" I digress;
After writing the "Circles" post a couple days ago, my oldest and best friend Kevin sent me an email. There are some other things about that post I conveniently left out. Make a sandwich, get a cold drink, and get comfy this could take a while.
Kevin and I met when we were kids. He was a drummer in his family band and they played on a float in the P.S.L. 4th of July parade. He was ten or so. It was the reason I became a drummer. He moved to Ft. Pierce and we lost touch for awhile but later we both found surfing and each other again. By 1985 we had become very close. I had a bad break up and Kevin made it his hobby to break me out of my self imposed depression.
He decided we should enter a surf contest and make a pact to surf everyday for thirty days. If the waves were flat (often) we'd just paddle. We had mock heats. We would see how many waves we could get in fifteen minutes. I ended up staying with he and his young wife, eating all their food and taking up any free time they might have spent together. That was the fall season I spoke of in the post. I'm pretty sure I stayed at Kevin's the night before that epic dawn patrol.
There are so many stories I could tell you about this guy, like the way he bought a new car when he let my wife and I stay at his house in Hawaii. He didn't want us to ride in his old car on our honeymoon, or the time he took me to the Town and Country factory to buy a board when I was in Hawaii the first time. That day I met Ben Aipa and Dane Kealoha, (two of my hero's) all because of Kevin. He paddled me into my first wave on the North Shore because I was frozen in the channel with fear. I could go on and on but, I owe him my life for pulling me out of that tough time.
To think of my life without this guy in it, is impossible.
When I left town I believed that I shouldn't tell anyone because I was trying making a new start and I wanted to do it alone. I didn't want to make a grand gesture. I didn't want any goodbyes. It was a deeply personal decision and I never considered the harm it would cause to Kevin.
I moved to Tallahassee, started a band, met my wife, made new friends and in the deepest form of denial, tried to forget my former life. When I finally contacted Kevin again he was in Hawaii. He brought up how I left but, I skirted the issue and he let me slide.
To this day I have never talked about it with him, probably because I knew I could never justify it.
Kevin is now a graphic artist at Newsweek Magazine. His award winning work has appeared in Time, Rolling Stone, Popular Science, National Geographic and many others. When ever I was in New York with socialburn, he would drop everything to come see me for five minutes.
Even if no one sees this but him, and everyone else I know clicks away after two lines, I want to have it in writing. What I did was selfish and wrong and I will never forgive myself. Friends are such a precious commodity and we need to remember that the good old days are now and one day soon, we will all be looking back, wishing we had said the things we wanted to, only to watch time swallow the opportunity.
I'm sorry Bro.
Hug it out Bitches!
W.B.Z.N.
" I digress;
After writing the "Circles" post a couple days ago, my oldest and best friend Kevin sent me an email. There are some other things about that post I conveniently left out. Make a sandwich, get a cold drink, and get comfy this could take a while.
Kevin and I met when we were kids. He was a drummer in his family band and they played on a float in the P.S.L. 4th of July parade. He was ten or so. It was the reason I became a drummer. He moved to Ft. Pierce and we lost touch for awhile but later we both found surfing and each other again. By 1985 we had become very close. I had a bad break up and Kevin made it his hobby to break me out of my self imposed depression.
He decided we should enter a surf contest and make a pact to surf everyday for thirty days. If the waves were flat (often) we'd just paddle. We had mock heats. We would see how many waves we could get in fifteen minutes. I ended up staying with he and his young wife, eating all their food and taking up any free time they might have spent together. That was the fall season I spoke of in the post. I'm pretty sure I stayed at Kevin's the night before that epic dawn patrol.
There are so many stories I could tell you about this guy, like the way he bought a new car when he let my wife and I stay at his house in Hawaii. He didn't want us to ride in his old car on our honeymoon, or the time he took me to the Town and Country factory to buy a board when I was in Hawaii the first time. That day I met Ben Aipa and Dane Kealoha, (two of my hero's) all because of Kevin. He paddled me into my first wave on the North Shore because I was frozen in the channel with fear. I could go on and on but, I owe him my life for pulling me out of that tough time.
To think of my life without this guy in it, is impossible.
When I left town I believed that I shouldn't tell anyone because I was trying making a new start and I wanted to do it alone. I didn't want to make a grand gesture. I didn't want any goodbyes. It was a deeply personal decision and I never considered the harm it would cause to Kevin.
I moved to Tallahassee, started a band, met my wife, made new friends and in the deepest form of denial, tried to forget my former life. When I finally contacted Kevin again he was in Hawaii. He brought up how I left but, I skirted the issue and he let me slide.
To this day I have never talked about it with him, probably because I knew I could never justify it.
Kevin is now a graphic artist at Newsweek Magazine. His award winning work has appeared in Time, Rolling Stone, Popular Science, National Geographic and many others. When ever I was in New York with socialburn, he would drop everything to come see me for five minutes.
Even if no one sees this but him, and everyone else I know clicks away after two lines, I want to have it in writing. What I did was selfish and wrong and I will never forgive myself. Friends are such a precious commodity and we need to remember that the good old days are now and one day soon, we will all be looking back, wishing we had said the things we wanted to, only to watch time swallow the opportunity.
I'm sorry Bro.
Hug it out Bitches!
W.B.Z.N.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Support Staff
Several months ago my sister began restoring our family home movies. She made a promise to my father that she would do it, and she made good on it.
My father has been gone since 1991 and we lost my Mom in 2003. It took me a really long time to watch those movies. It softened the blow to see how much my wife and two boys enjoyed it. Through their questions, I was able to be distracted enough to enjoy the wonder of those films. My Dad used to say it was hard to focus through the tears. Now I understand what he meant.
My Dad was a traveling salesman and I have few memories of him before I was six. He lost huge chunks of his soul selling for Johnson and Johnson, then later dental supplies.
The tough job was my Mom's. She was home with seven kids and all the challenges that entailed; never enough money, thrift shops, left overs, sick children, you get the idea. It's a classic American tale.
My wife and kids have been down some crazy roads with me too. The list is long and embarrassing. I am lucky I pulled a couple things out of the fire and never came home to find the house empty, with my clothes in the yard. Through it all my wife has never shown one ounce of doubt. She says what she has to say, and then tells me to do what I need to. We always end up at even or a little better.
My Dad was a traveling salesman and I have few memories of him before I was six. He lost huge chunks of his soul selling for Johnson and Johnson, then later dental supplies.
The tough job was my Mom's. She was home with seven kids and all the challenges that entailed; never enough money, thrift shops, left overs, sick children, you get the idea. It's a classic American tale.
My wife and kids have been down some crazy roads with me too. The list is long and embarrassing. I am lucky I pulled a couple things out of the fire and never came home to find the house empty, with my clothes in the yard. Through it all my wife has never shown one ounce of doubt. She says what she has to say, and then tells me to do what I need to. We always end up at even or a little better.
"I'm going to start a business!"
"Cool ." she says.
"I'm going to do this tour to Europe and Japan!"
"Cool, I'll pay the bills, and work two jobs while your gone." She says.
"I'm going to manage this band!"
"That's fine, I'll take video of the birthday party for you." She says.
"I'm going to buy a new frame!"
"You need one." She says.
Things are going to get tricky around here this year. We have some challenges we need to get through to get back to even, or maybe a little better. We are trying to make it fun, hopefully teaching our boys a thing or two about the environment, fiscal responsibility and a thing called sacrifice. My Mom and Dad taught me that last one.
"Cool." She says.
W.B.Z.N.
"Cool ." she says.
"I'm going to do this tour to Europe and Japan!"
"Cool, I'll pay the bills, and work two jobs while your gone." She says.
"I'm going to manage this band!"
"That's fine, I'll take video of the birthday party for you." She says.
"I'm going to buy a new frame!"
"You need one." She says.
Things are going to get tricky around here this year. We have some challenges we need to get through to get back to even, or maybe a little better. We are trying to make it fun, hopefully teaching our boys a thing or two about the environment, fiscal responsibility and a thing called sacrifice. My Mom and Dad taught me that last one.
"Cool." She says.
W.B.Z.N.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Circles
A charter member of our crew (not the o.g. tattoo level, but close) is leaving us. I received his email and gave some thought to time and change. Double is moving on to greater things and he is an irreplaceable man. To find someone with his riding ability and special set of quirks will be impossible.
I remember the first ride I was on with him. We were screaming down the hill on Overstreet, and he did a full power slide, and looked back at me right in the eye. My first thought was; "I'm not good enough to ride with these guys."
Eight years later and I am still thinking the same thing.
I decided to leave Ft. Pierce in the fall of 1985. Two events led the decision.
The first was hurricane Gloria. It passed by us about 1500 miles off the coast. My brother Chris, Greggo (owner of North Jetty Surf Shop), my best friend Kevin, and I paddled out in the dark at about 6:30 am. It must have been during a lull, because I never went through any waves till I was way outside. The sun started coming up, and I realized I was looking back across the inlet, at the end of the south jetty. This put us somewhere about a quarter mile out. As the sun broke through, I looked up to see my brother taking off in the semi darkness, on the biggest wave I had ever seen. It was about 6-8 feet over head on the take off. I barley punched through the set and made it outside. I surfed the biggest, best waves I had ever seen since I moved there in 1969.
When we came out of the water it had really gotten out of control and a lot of people had tried to paddle out, but couldn't. I turned and looked at the waves, the only thing keeping me in the God forsaken town, and I knew it would never get better than that.
Later that year on my birthday, I was in a retched bar in Port Saint Lucie. I looked over and saw two of my ex girlfriends talking to each other, while giving me dirty looks from across the room. My circles were starting to intersect too much.
I went home packed my car and left without telling anyone except my boss at the shop. It was tough but eventually became a great move for me, I have lived here ever since.
I hope Double has a good run in Cali, and I hope he comes back to visit (he won't)..... So maybe we will have to barge on him once he gets the trails wired. If I am invited.
Good luck.
w.b.z.n.
I remember the first ride I was on with him. We were screaming down the hill on Overstreet, and he did a full power slide, and looked back at me right in the eye. My first thought was; "I'm not good enough to ride with these guys."
Eight years later and I am still thinking the same thing.
I decided to leave Ft. Pierce in the fall of 1985. Two events led the decision.
The first was hurricane Gloria. It passed by us about 1500 miles off the coast. My brother Chris, Greggo (owner of North Jetty Surf Shop), my best friend Kevin, and I paddled out in the dark at about 6:30 am. It must have been during a lull, because I never went through any waves till I was way outside. The sun started coming up, and I realized I was looking back across the inlet, at the end of the south jetty. This put us somewhere about a quarter mile out. As the sun broke through, I looked up to see my brother taking off in the semi darkness, on the biggest wave I had ever seen. It was about 6-8 feet over head on the take off. I barley punched through the set and made it outside. I surfed the biggest, best waves I had ever seen since I moved there in 1969.
When we came out of the water it had really gotten out of control and a lot of people had tried to paddle out, but couldn't. I turned and looked at the waves, the only thing keeping me in the God forsaken town, and I knew it would never get better than that.
Later that year on my birthday, I was in a retched bar in Port Saint Lucie. I looked over and saw two of my ex girlfriends talking to each other, while giving me dirty looks from across the room. My circles were starting to intersect too much.
I went home packed my car and left without telling anyone except my boss at the shop. It was tough but eventually became a great move for me, I have lived here ever since.
I hope Double has a good run in Cali, and I hope he comes back to visit (he won't)..... So maybe we will have to barge on him once he gets the trails wired. If I am invited.
Good luck.
w.b.z.n.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The Game.
I suppose like most great endeavors, it started innocently with good intentions. I never really saw the ramifications or any need to change my life. I assumed I could be who I always was and live life as I always had. A regular Joe in a regular world.
The demands crept in slowly and the metamorphosis was not noticeable at first. The perks and prestige began to corrupt at a slow enough pace. A good table here, a free drink there, a wink from the door man as he lowered the velvet rope. Did I enjoy it, who wouldn't? I was seduced and I felt as though all my hard work had paid off.
I could never give them enough of what they wanted. The pressure began to overwhelm me. They would never be satisfied. They would only ask for more.
I was surrounded by a lot off people I thought were cool, but slowly I realized they all wanted something from me. Little things would come up in conversations like:
"That would be a funny thing for your blog!"
It was fine for a while and then a few fans showed up at my house. (Google bastards!) My kids couldn't ride the bus anymore. We had to hire a Israeli body guard. Clearly things had gone beyond normal. I had no idea how I got here, or where to go now.
The blog business is not for the faint of heart. You are only as good as your last blog. I found myself wondering as John Lennon had about; "Getting off the merry go round."
Maybe I just had to, as he did:
"Let it go."
I can't say I was totally naive. I knew it was a dog eat dog, or... dog doesn't comment on dog's blog, world. You can't come out of a whore house and say you didn't feel loved. We all knew why we were here.
I stand before you a broken man, at the crossroads of the blog world. Do I shake hands with the devil or go back to who I was, if that's possible? I would like to say I am sorry but alas ....who would listen.
w.b.z.n.
The demands crept in slowly and the metamorphosis was not noticeable at first. The perks and prestige began to corrupt at a slow enough pace. A good table here, a free drink there, a wink from the door man as he lowered the velvet rope. Did I enjoy it, who wouldn't? I was seduced and I felt as though all my hard work had paid off.
I could never give them enough of what they wanted. The pressure began to overwhelm me. They would never be satisfied. They would only ask for more.
I was surrounded by a lot off people I thought were cool, but slowly I realized they all wanted something from me. Little things would come up in conversations like:
"That would be a funny thing for your blog!"
It was fine for a while and then a few fans showed up at my house. (Google bastards!) My kids couldn't ride the bus anymore. We had to hire a Israeli body guard. Clearly things had gone beyond normal. I had no idea how I got here, or where to go now.
The blog business is not for the faint of heart. You are only as good as your last blog. I found myself wondering as John Lennon had about; "Getting off the merry go round."
Maybe I just had to, as he did:
"Let it go."
I can't say I was totally naive. I knew it was a dog eat dog, or... dog doesn't comment on dog's blog, world. You can't come out of a whore house and say you didn't feel loved. We all knew why we were here.
I stand before you a broken man, at the crossroads of the blog world. Do I shake hands with the devil or go back to who I was, if that's possible? I would like to say I am sorry but alas ....who would listen.
w.b.z.n.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Head High and Choppy
North Jetty was a tough place to learn how to surf. The convented first peak was controlled by a crotchety group of aging hippies, Vietnam vets and red necks that weren't really interested in passing the torch to the next generation. I surfed there for twenty five years and I was never excepted by the Jetty Rats.
For this reason, my best friend Rob and I took to surfing in conditions no one else would consider. If it was one foot or less, we would remove our fins and do 360's in the shore break. If the tide was wrong and the sun was directly over head, we were on it. Our favorite thing of all was big, cold, blown out surf. We loved walking over sand with no prints, and paddling for thirty minutes to get big doubled up, closing out, wind chop. At some point during every session a weird series of events would occur and we would get a wave that was worth it.
Back in the empty parking lot we would do the towel dance out of our wetsuits. Back in the safety of my VW bus, and wearing jeans and Billibong sweat shirts, we would bask in the exhaust laden heat and head to the 7-11. Life was sweet.
It was the memory of this that got me into the car and headed to Munson on Saturday. It was drizzling and cold and the parking lot was empty. I got lost on the twilight loop and it took a while to find a familiar site. One hour and a half later, I was back in the car, and I had a strange craving for Beebo doughnuts and Mountain Dew.
For this reason, my best friend Rob and I took to surfing in conditions no one else would consider. If it was one foot or less, we would remove our fins and do 360's in the shore break. If the tide was wrong and the sun was directly over head, we were on it. Our favorite thing of all was big, cold, blown out surf. We loved walking over sand with no prints, and paddling for thirty minutes to get big doubled up, closing out, wind chop. At some point during every session a weird series of events would occur and we would get a wave that was worth it.
Back in the empty parking lot we would do the towel dance out of our wetsuits. Back in the safety of my VW bus, and wearing jeans and Billibong sweat shirts, we would bask in the exhaust laden heat and head to the 7-11. Life was sweet.
It was the memory of this that got me into the car and headed to Munson on Saturday. It was drizzling and cold and the parking lot was empty. I got lost on the twilight loop and it took a while to find a familiar site. One hour and a half later, I was back in the car, and I had a strange craving for Beebo doughnuts and Mountain Dew.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)