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Thursday, October 30, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Today's Thought
The Endless Bummer Surf Blog For Wannabe Surfers brings you only the best between-surf time-wasting-entertainment. Enjoy.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Sunday, October 26, 2014
This Week In Not Surfing
Some guy with ebola went bowling in my neighborhood this week. When I went to the CNN Crisis Center for Ebola Hyperbole, I found that I had to watch a Geico ad before watching their video news coverage, which ended up playing a little bit like the Geicko ad. Well, maybe more like a sneak peek of the upcoming film "The Muppets Take the News Room." Ebola is scary. Ebola is incurable. Ebola makes you poo blood and vomit out your haggis-like boiled intestines. Someone quoted this week that it took Ronald Reagan 20,000 AIDS deaths before he addressed it, but it has taken Obama only four deaths before addressing ebola. Well, really it's almost 5,000, with more than 10,000 infected. I also read that it's possible that in the coming weeks, "without substantial intervention," there could be 10,000 new cases of ebola each week in Africa. Everyone says that it's very difficult to contract ebola if the correct precautions are taken. Someone else said that getting in and out of one of those ebola-proof hazmat suits effectively is like trying to undo the knot your seven year old kid has managed to make outta their shoe lace. Naked, in a snowstorm. Frankly, I'm not too worried.
Oscar De La Renta died. Ben Bradlee died. Not of ebola poisoning.
Everyday, take ten minutes to write a memory from your life down in a notebook. Don't make the memory anymore that maybe, say, eight sentences. It could be as little as a single sentence. But do it everyday. At the end of a clander year, you'll have 365 distinct memories that you've documented. At the end of five years you'll have 1,825 memories set down for posterity, set down to pique the imagination and curiosity of future generations of yous. Really. I did the math.
My memory for today: the time I walked in on my eldest brother's girlfriend changing in my parent's bathroom when we lived on that cul de sac, in that house with the big marshy field as a backyard. I had previously walked in on them making out on his bed. He was probably either a senior in high school or a freshman in college. I was maybe eight years old. Perhaps seven. She was wearing white panties. Or maybe they were light pink.
364 gems to go.
Everyday, take ten minutes to write a memory from your life down in a notebook. Don't make the memory anymore that maybe, say, eight sentences. It could be as little as a single sentence. But do it everyday. At the end of a clander year, you'll have 365 distinct memories that you've documented. At the end of five years you'll have 1,825 memories set down for posterity, set down to pique the imagination and curiosity of future generations of yous. Really. I did the math.
My memory for today: the time I walked in on my eldest brother's girlfriend changing in my parent's bathroom when we lived on that cul de sac, in that house with the big marshy field as a backyard. I had previously walked in on them making out on his bed. He was probably either a senior in high school or a freshman in college. I was maybe eight years old. Perhaps seven. She was wearing white panties. Or maybe they were light pink.
364 gems to go.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Happening : Save The Waves Film Festival
It's that time of year again when the good people come out to watch good things. Bird's Surf Shed, Lightspace and Victoria Theater in their respective towns (see details here...)
This year the EBNY Surf Blog About Not Surfing has submitted one of our favorite projects of the year, specially formatted to fit your Save The Waves viewing pleasure! Here is the sneak peak...
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
This Week In Not Surfing
I am absolutely convinced that in a few years they'll tell us that, in fact, smoking tobacco every now and again is really actually very quite good for a majority of the population. Something magical it does for lymphatic circulation and dandruff.
I am also certain that somehow, some way, this unprecedented and hazardous obsession with being fit past forty will be a cornerstone of the "hey remember when" genre of giggles in future conversations. Someone is going to realize, I hope, that being a slightly dumpy - less prone to taking death defying chances - simply happy to enjoy an aging camaraderie - sort of elderly bon vivant is really the way to go. We'll even enjoy a catchy pop song that will forever change our attitudes. It's all about that pace, 'bout that pace, mo' feeble.
It is the time of year when you are dragged far from the beach if you are person like me. The kids want to pick apples. No, pumpkins! Aren't the leaves beautiful this time of year? Oh, how Fall is my favorite season! That crisp air! Bah, humbug. Not only did I not surf this week, but everyone I know did and sent me photos proving it. Well all you lucky jerks, I ate some great pizza, drank some great wine, had some good conversations and jumped on a trampoline.
Fascination. Fascist Nation. Fascination. Fascist Nation. Hmmmm. Never thought of it like that.
There is this place down the street, Mr. Piña, that will give you a free juice from their juice bar if you buy more that twenty dollars of groceries. That gets dangerously addicting. Twenty dollar kale/lime/pineapple juices and a cupboard stocked with potato chips.
And finally, this surf film has knocked that old cruddy Chanel surf film off my Ten Best Surf Films Of The Last Ten Days list:
(The only question, really, is if all these bassy girls are looking for rather more trebly men.)
I am also certain that somehow, some way, this unprecedented and hazardous obsession with being fit past forty will be a cornerstone of the "hey remember when" genre of giggles in future conversations. Someone is going to realize, I hope, that being a slightly dumpy - less prone to taking death defying chances - simply happy to enjoy an aging camaraderie - sort of elderly bon vivant is really the way to go. We'll even enjoy a catchy pop song that will forever change our attitudes. It's all about that pace, 'bout that pace, mo' feeble.
It is the time of year when you are dragged far from the beach if you are person like me. The kids want to pick apples. No, pumpkins! Aren't the leaves beautiful this time of year? Oh, how Fall is my favorite season! That crisp air! Bah, humbug. Not only did I not surf this week, but everyone I know did and sent me photos proving it. Well all you lucky jerks, I ate some great pizza, drank some great wine, had some good conversations and jumped on a trampoline.
Fascination. Fascist Nation. Fascination. Fascist Nation. Hmmmm. Never thought of it like that.
There is this place down the street, Mr. Piña, that will give you a free juice from their juice bar if you buy more that twenty dollars of groceries. That gets dangerously addicting. Twenty dollar kale/lime/pineapple juices and a cupboard stocked with potato chips.
And finally, this surf film has knocked that old cruddy Chanel surf film off my Ten Best Surf Films Of The Last Ten Days list:
(The only question, really, is if all these bassy girls are looking for rather more trebly men.)
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
"Bad Rad"
Huck called it possibly the most "cringey fake surfing ever."
Wifey deemed it "bad rad."
I'll just say it's "one of the best new surf films I've seen all year and I wish I'd made it."
Wifey deemed it "bad rad."
I'll just say it's "one of the best new surf films I've seen all year and I wish I'd made it."
Monday, October 13, 2014
Happening : Friday Night! Friday Night!
You may have seen Eric's work in WAX.
Friday night will be a proper party to celebrate his new book.
Come and enjoy.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Gifting Season! King Tide Season!
The overwhelming tidal wave of buythisism vomit is nearly upon us. We will find ourselves confronted with a sound wall of pervasively persuasive insidiousness akin to a viciously harassing cultural attack dog of useless consumerism. Inevitably you too will be bowed low to the reign of abject terror that, in later private regard, you'll only have to admit was foisted upon your dominion by no other deceitful character than yourself. You will hang your head low knowing you let yourself down yet again.
But there is hope.
We here at the Endless Bummer No Surf Surf Blog of Second Place Finishers will try to steer your conscience straight as the season gets on. And as is our way, if we don't remember to do it now, we will forget to do it later, and our aim, as always, is at least true in intention if not everything else that is necessary in "doing right."
So, without further ado... We kick off the EBNY 2014 Stupid Season Gift Giving guide with an incredible gift, hand made by a PhD of Evolutionary Biology (and fellow surfer) who also happens to craft these lovely, recycled hanging lights when he's not solving mysteries.
I own one myself and have had the immense joy of giving them as gifts to wildly joyous effect.
Take a cue from us! Start your thoughtful thought process early! Don't let it sneak up on you, forcing you to make choices that don't better our universe! Take care! Do Good!
If you must give gifts... at least give good ones.
Click the picture of the bird. It will fling you to this amazing world of crafty goodness.
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But there is hope.
We here at the Endless Bummer No Surf Surf Blog of Second Place Finishers will try to steer your conscience straight as the season gets on. And as is our way, if we don't remember to do it now, we will forget to do it later, and our aim, as always, is at least true in intention if not everything else that is necessary in "doing right."
So, without further ado... We kick off the EBNY 2014 Stupid Season Gift Giving guide with an incredible gift, hand made by a PhD of Evolutionary Biology (and fellow surfer) who also happens to craft these lovely, recycled hanging lights when he's not solving mysteries.
I own one myself and have had the immense joy of giving them as gifts to wildly joyous effect.
Take a cue from us! Start your thoughtful thought process early! Don't let it sneak up on you, forcing you to make choices that don't better our universe! Take care! Do Good!
If you must give gifts... at least give good ones.
Click the picture of the bird. It will fling you to this amazing world of crafty goodness.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
This Week In Not Surfing
Dear Volkswagon,
I really love small trucks. Those little mini trucks with the tiny cabs and the plain styling. You used to make a really great version, picture here, that always catches my eye. I also really love your 1980s style Vanagon. We used to smoke cloves in Ian's orange one on the way to Rincon, Miramar and Hammond's. The Squareback? Great. Rob Wood once dented the lovely white one I'd borrowed from my brother's cute girlfriend's dad. The Beetle? I really, really like that one. Ross Mickel's mom had a perfectly green one when I was a kid. The Rabbit? Fantastic. I drove a borrowed one up to San Francisco from Santa Barbara with nothing but cassette tapes of acid jazz and Astrud Gilberto to listen to. I've owned a few Volkswagons. There was the Passat and the Golf. My wife's family grew up in them, her brother actually born in a Vanagon on a beach in Kauai. Put that in a brochure. In fact, Volkswagon, I would refer to myself, maybe not so much as an aficionado, but certainly as an admirer.
This, then, might come off as something along the long-time-listener-first-time-caller variety of letters.
See, I drive a Volkswagon now. A Jetta wagon diesel version. Boy do I really love the gas mileage! And I don't mind the way it looks! It handles pretty well I think. It parks great (really slips right in there if you know what I mean.) The seats fold down nicely for extra loading. The lights work really well.
But...
The car really sucks.
First of all, it's like a wafer thin mint. Within the first weekend of driving it, I'd punctured a hole in the ceiling cloth. My wife stuck one of those unbearable rubber bumper things on there and the heat reflected from the exhaust melted one of the brake lights. It seems as if a hard rain will scratch the paint. To make matters worse, there a handful of far too annoying design flaws that one just wouldn't expect from you Germans. What is the point of the black hole in the middle of the center console? While my fingers are indeed long, they have no hope there. Why install a flip-up lid for the ashcan that pops open when you sneeze? I forget stuff in there all the time, sure, but you shouldn't be second guessing me. Why in the world would you place the voice activation button on the steering wheel that I can't help but bump at the most awkward moments? Do you suppose I want to hear that terrible lady (who can't understand a word I say anyhow) suddenly interrupt my favorite radio show every time I parallel park? Why only allow the car to be unlocked by key on the driver's side? Is chivalry truly dead to you? Why place the distressingly similar-looking repositories for the windshield fluid and the engine coolant so mischievously close together? Is the vision of an exasperated driver with a turkey baster funny to you?
I have had many people ask me about my wagon over the past year. It is a hot item for a certain set it seems. But, Volkswagon, I always warn with the same cliche: they don't make them like they used to.
Attached are some pictures that demonstrate just a few frustrations.
Forever Yours,
The Endless Bummer New York No Surf Surf Blog of Champions
I really love small trucks. Those little mini trucks with the tiny cabs and the plain styling. You used to make a really great version, picture here, that always catches my eye. I also really love your 1980s style Vanagon. We used to smoke cloves in Ian's orange one on the way to Rincon, Miramar and Hammond's. The Squareback? Great. Rob Wood once dented the lovely white one I'd borrowed from my brother's cute girlfriend's dad. The Beetle? I really, really like that one. Ross Mickel's mom had a perfectly green one when I was a kid. The Rabbit? Fantastic. I drove a borrowed one up to San Francisco from Santa Barbara with nothing but cassette tapes of acid jazz and Astrud Gilberto to listen to. I've owned a few Volkswagons. There was the Passat and the Golf. My wife's family grew up in them, her brother actually born in a Vanagon on a beach in Kauai. Put that in a brochure. In fact, Volkswagon, I would refer to myself, maybe not so much as an aficionado, but certainly as an admirer.
This, then, might come off as something along the long-time-listener-first-time-caller variety of letters.
See, I drive a Volkswagon now. A Jetta wagon diesel version. Boy do I really love the gas mileage! And I don't mind the way it looks! It handles pretty well I think. It parks great (really slips right in there if you know what I mean.) The seats fold down nicely for extra loading. The lights work really well.
But...
The car really sucks.
First of all, it's like a wafer thin mint. Within the first weekend of driving it, I'd punctured a hole in the ceiling cloth. My wife stuck one of those unbearable rubber bumper things on there and the heat reflected from the exhaust melted one of the brake lights. It seems as if a hard rain will scratch the paint. To make matters worse, there a handful of far too annoying design flaws that one just wouldn't expect from you Germans. What is the point of the black hole in the middle of the center console? While my fingers are indeed long, they have no hope there. Why install a flip-up lid for the ashcan that pops open when you sneeze? I forget stuff in there all the time, sure, but you shouldn't be second guessing me. Why in the world would you place the voice activation button on the steering wheel that I can't help but bump at the most awkward moments? Do you suppose I want to hear that terrible lady (who can't understand a word I say anyhow) suddenly interrupt my favorite radio show every time I parallel park? Why only allow the car to be unlocked by key on the driver's side? Is chivalry truly dead to you? Why place the distressingly similar-looking repositories for the windshield fluid and the engine coolant so mischievously close together? Is the vision of an exasperated driver with a turkey baster funny to you?
I have had many people ask me about my wagon over the past year. It is a hot item for a certain set it seems. But, Volkswagon, I always warn with the same cliche: they don't make them like they used to.
Attached are some pictures that demonstrate just a few frustrations.
Forever Yours,
The Endless Bummer New York No Surf Surf Blog of Champions
Happening : PF Gallery Shows : Eric T White & Huck Docu Photo
PF Gallery is a great place to have a good time. But more importantly, it's a great place to see really great work of a wide variety while connecting with that old time neighborhood feeling.
We will be hosting Eric T. White's latest offering of a book and a show starting Friday night the 17th, and continuing through the 25th.
On the 30th the opening reception for a collaboration with Huck with a pop up weekend show of incredible documentary photography from their current issue.
These shows should not be missed.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
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