Winter Whine Countup Umpteen

via Ok Oh

It is the season for heavy petting.  Whatever you can get your hand to.  Dogs, cats, progeny, significant others, surfboards, whatever.  The wave count is down, the snow drifts, icy spills and post-winter wonderland sludge is up.  As far as the mind wanders, it still only gets withing a few hundred yards of a surfable wave.  That's how desperate things have become.  There was a time that I stopped dreaming about surfing.  I mean the sort of "stopped dreaming about surfing" that lasts more than a few nights, or even a few weeks.  I remember it as a slow descent.  First, the surf dreams become less physical, less gutturally similar in feel to the actual action.  Once these visceral nuances go, your brain starts to treat surfing like a film. No weight in your soles, no magical tug of energy, only those camera angles. Then, only one camera angle.  And it isn't even a telephoto.  And just like that, you know it's bad.
Perilously close I am, to the abyss that was.
Antonio and I have been able to hold on, just hold on, by tapping into the resources on the other coast, begging surf footage off friends at a big surf company and making visual explorations for the conglomerate.  And while watching the girls rip the shit out of warm-looking tropically blue waves isn't nearly near enough, it adds a touch of solace to our dreary, increasingly gray outlook.  So pretty soon we are hoping an explosion of EBNY-crafted surf material will be materializing before your eyes.  You won't be able escape us and our craftiness.  But as with all commercial endeavors, there's this long waiting period: "Advert should be live with in 4-6 weeks."  
But we want people to see our handiwork now...
And so the wait continues.