Sunday, November 29, 2015

This Week In Not Surfing

There is this thing happening on other continents. Death and migration, wrapped up in a burrito of mismanagement of misbegotten mistakes. And there is anger. Justified anger with unjustified reactions. On every side. And this has extended to this continent where these sorts of mistakes are so common place and entrenched in our system of thought thanks to an earlier extension and an ensuing bizarre game of hubris riddled one-upmanship. People have gone mad. It is a mad mad world. And this is the biology of it. This is the evolutionary checks our planet desperately puts upon us in a continuous stream of last ditch efforts, setting of smoke fires and pointing at smoking guns to smoke us out, figuring in some sort of nonthoughtcosmic way that perhaps this time we'll get the message. And some do, maybe. I can't tell. I think some do. Some seem like they do. But you'd think the knowledge that grows into wisdom would be some kind of unignorable scorching white light of truth. You'd think something so true and real and unimpingable (my word not theirs) would be simply too much of all these things to be dismissed. And yet this seems not to be the case. It's a real puzzler.

When will they figure out that Jose Mourinho's stale concoction of acridly defensive tactics and putridly negative psychological tricks is simply toxic. Its like an injection of steroids that inevitably make the joints weak and the balls small. I am not a schadenfreude filled person under nearly any circumstance. It is not part of my make up. But this part about Chelsea falling apart just tugs at those lonely, rigor mortized heart strings inside.

I surfed this morning for the better bit of an hour. The better bit of just over an hour. Clean, lined up peelers in Long Beach Long Island New York State. Slipping into my wetsuit this morning the zipper pulled out of long standing treaty designed to ensure my warmth. It was a shock to see the whole thing in tatters after so many years of harmonious collaboration. I soldiered on of course, accepting the flushing rhythms of late November Atlantic seawater to keep my mind clear of unnecessary thoughts.

Thanksgiving this year was full of love and gratitude on a scale I have become accustomed to being surprised by. From EBNY to you, we hope you've had a great one. And if not, we hope the perspective is strong to know there's another one next year. And if you know for sure there won't be another one next year, we hope you are satisfied with the part you've played helping those around you enjoy a gentler ride in your presence.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Friday, November 6, 2015

Well Sabrina... Here You Go : View From A Blue Moon in NYC

"Proud to announce the first showing of John John Florence's new movie View From a Blue Moon will be at Unsoundsurf on Friday 11/13/2015 at 6pm. Good times , giveaways and much more don't miss it ....the movie is nuts."

  Unsound Surf

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Today's Thought

Jair Bortoleto : Wisdom in the Lens

I don't know how many Brazilians read this dumpy rag of a blog, but if you are of that persuasion, and around Santos in November, and want the brush up from a great photographer... this is your spot.

Sunday, November 1, 2015


It's Dean Petty hour on the internet! I ran into him coincidentally in Halifax in August. He was standing behind his coffee counter minding his own business when I recognized him from his stint putting Zak Bush's photos up on the walls of the gallery.

He was nice the first time, nicer the second time and extra nice the third time when he loaned me a board and pointed me in the right direction just in front of his hand built house.

Click the pic for his recent turn for Outernknown and the triangle below for a bit of moving image and sound.

15 minutes of fame look good on him.

This Week In Not Surfing

1. A handful of days ago I met an old friend for a drink, awkwardly. I hadn't seen him in a few years and once he was maintained the locus of a good part of my social life, a role that benefitted his need for an entourage with whom to surround himself and mine a group within which to fit. It was an odd meeting. I went into it with the same sort of intellectual shrug of the shoulders I adopt when trying watermelon for the umpteenth time, a rite of summer passage that always ends in failure. Or I suppose success for the consistency of my tastes. At some point I fell out with this old friend in a quiet way, realizing, or deciding that his friendship wasn't quite worth what I'd thought it was (or had been attempting to convince myself it might be.) So I met up with him in this state. And I left not long after with a familiar, alkaline taste on my lips, wondering at the time I'd just wasted. I fumed at his inability to speak to me. I muttered at the dearth of his interest in me. My stomach turned at the blank look of expectancy on his face. And as I rode my bicycle home, something shifted inside me. I realized, not suddenly but with enough surprise, that I had nothing to say to him. His was not a diabolical disinterest, but mine was a stupefied displacement. This realization both comforts me and scares me to death.

 2. I am confused that the media refers to the process by which we vet our presidential candidates as "debates." These are not debates. They are cheap buckshot cartridges of emotional callowness. Open classes in insensitivity, stupidity and intellectual depravity. In the end I will vote for Hillary Clinton. Not because she has the ideas that closely hew to how I think the world should run, but simply because she would present a fundamental change that outstrips any other change on the table. Trump's monumental stupidity is surely interesting and somewhat different in its baldfaced admittance. Bernie Sanders' quasi-socialism certainly appealing in its quasi-socialism. But in the end, no one presents the dramatic shift to a status quo that is in such a broken state. Let's at least get a new gender in there. 

3. Dresses with zippers. Blech! Why not employ buttons. It is always a sore to my eyes to see a big silver zipper mundanely stretch up the back of an otherwise pretty dress form. Why not try buttons? I know they are harder to sort out in the assemblage, but in that lies at least some sexiness. Either that or go whole hog and flop a wetsuit style zip cord to the thing and let it dangle as ostentatiously tantalizing opportunity.

4. What makes one think one has the moral authority? Who died and made you god? Or me. Who died and made me the regulator? Yesterday I was surfing poopy fun little waves, struggling in a premature six mil, a sorry case of the month offs and a severe case of the one-year-old sleepless nights. Someone said something, or did something, or intimated at something that irked my precious sense of justice and I acted on it. Who said that was my right? No one. I took the right as given and did my best to implement proper etiquette. I'm not too sure about it all. Things confuse me in my middle years.

5. So here's to change. Blessed change.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

"A Bit Too Much Drone. But the Last 26 Seconds. Jesus." (or) "F 4k. 70mm or Bust."

First, let's all watch that. Watch it. Take it in. It's the best surf film you'll see all year. Ok, it's not a surf film. Not like this is a surf film. But it's an amazing piece of art that may be one of the better amazing pieces of art you see until 2016. I am in awe of this. Just great.

 Second, the JJF "Blue Moon" trailer dropped and it is the trailer for a real surf film. A more quintessential surf film full of incredible locales, breathtaking waves and savant surfing. The whole way through I was just hating it. For the better part of the length of the clip I was quietly grinding out all the things I could possibly say about this overblown piece of cinematic puff pastry. All that wasted gasoline in the service of visual masturbation when a little bathroom-bound internet connection would do. All that expected we've-seen-it-before-just-not-this-good footage of mind-blowing grandeur. The absolutely hideous voice over.

But then... then..
The final minute hit. And my stupid brain shut up.


Monday, October 26, 2015

The Digital Revolution Will Not Be Televised. It'll Be On Radio (Part Deux).

The wonders of our interconnected digital age. All of Alan Lomax' recordings here. Or at least a great many of them.

Click this word here... here... to transport yourself to a wonderful black hole of time, space and enjoyment.

"The Sound Recordings catalog comprises over 17,400 digital audio files, beginning with Lomax’s first recordings onto (newly invented) tape in 1946 and tracing his career into the 1990s. In addition to a wide spectrum of musical performances from around the world, it includes stories, jokes, sermons, personal narratives, interviews conducted by Lomax and his associates, and unique ambient artifacts captured in transit from radio broadcasts, sometimes inadvertently, when Alan left the tape machine running. Not a single piece of recorded sound in Lomax’s audio archive has been omitted: meaning that microphone checks, partial performances, and false starts are also included. This material from Alan Lomax’s independent archive, begun in 1946, which has been digitized and preserved by the Association for Cultural Equity, is distinct from the thousands of earlier recordings on acetate and aluminum discs he made from 1933 to 1942 under the auspices of the Library of Congress. This earlier collection — which includes the famous Jelly Roll Morton, Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, and Muddy Waters sessions, as well as Lomax’s prodigious collections made in Haiti and Eastern Kentucky (1937) — is the provenance of the American Folklife Center at the Library. Attempts are being made, however, to digitize some of this rarer material, such as the Haitian recordings, and to make it available in the Sound Recordings catalog. Please check in periodically for updates."

More on this sort of thing here.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Reel Life

Is the power we have over ghosts simply our ignorance? You get that odd feeling, the hair on your neck stands, your skin feels prickly, the heart beats. You capture something in the shadows. A face! A gesture! You're sure something far older is here. The scalp tightens under your hair. But whooosh! It's gone! You're thinking about something else! The dog, your baby, wifey maybe your terrible terrible schedule tomorrow. The ghost is gone, reduced, watching again, rueful that it couldn't take its chance to really spook. No, that damn iPhone got in the way again.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Happening : Anna Harrah at Picture Farm Gallery

Anna Harrah’s oil on paper work makes one conjure the distinct possibility that Kazimir Malevich and Albert Einstein had a love child who currently practices Tantric paintings.

Picture Farm Gallery is pleased to announce the opening reception for her 4 Corners exhibition this Saturday, October 24th from 5 – 9pm.

“4 Corners is a figuration of time referencing undefined geometry terms and using the cube as a subject. Point, line, plane and set all define the parameters of inquiry.

‘Time does not move linearly, and from the four corners and literal paths that we take, we can often travel in time, experiencing things once past and altogether existing on the same plane in our sensory understandings.’

The body of work is an execution and exploration of color combination and surface tension, drawn from all things experienced, seen and forgotten. It’s a way to move through and on.” – Anna Harrah

Saturday, October 24th Reception 5pm – 9pm.
Sunday, October 25th Gallery Hours 12 – 6pm.
Oct. 26 – Nov. 6th. By Appointment.


Happening : Belinda Baggs at Patagonia Bowery

"Meets awesome Aussie soul surfer Belinda J Baggs this Thursday at Patagonia Bowery store. It's a free event, with live music and it starts at 7pm. Patagonia is going to be offering 20% off on all girls wetsuits during the event and have people to help size them on location."