Birthday Blog; tho one for my Soul Mate

Another year past, another one closer to death. Ok, time to drop the morbid act/ two-bit Pink Floyd line drop. It is (was) your birth day, the day you first gazed at light, gasped your first breath, and began spreading your passion and joy over those who care about you and love you. It is by all means a passing milestone on your windy road of life, and the road to the next one will be different and twisted in some parts. However, this blog i write for you is to remind you that there will always be someone who can be a guide for your soul during the hard times and through the easy ride, as a meens to keep you intact and stay a course that is true to yourself.
You happen to be the most fantasticalay unique and genuinly understanding individual that it has been my privileged luck to encounter in this existence of mine. In truth, i believe there are no mix of emotions, words, or even well spoken notions by the most prolific artists and poets that could touch the true sense of love and respect i hold for you. Discribing the way it feels to know that I ocupy a place in your heart is a task to great to sum up in writing or even in spoken words, for that matter. But you can just tell by the way i look at you, and listen to you, and you ll know it when i am there for you in the best of times and in the most challenging situations. Its the very least i could do, especially for my best friend, and perminent partner in crime...and from one fellow Robert Zimmerman enthusiast to another, " It takes a woman like your kind to find the man in me."
Whenever i talk to you about a bad day, weather it be a shitty practice or just the natural grinding along of the day, whatever it is that was troubling me melts from my mind and desolves in your words of comfort. I am never in a more natural state than when i am with you. No matter what it is we occupy our time with, concerts, hikes, trips ,they all stand out in my mind as connecting moments that we share together on so many levels it would be shallow to mearly call us friends; we are, in this time and place, Soul Mates for each other.

-I think it took a memory straight form the best memory we have shared together, MMJ at the Greek, to release my writers block and write you something meaningful and real. I feel I never tell you how much you mean to me, i say it insted internaly because its in my heart every time you are with me. When I look at you I sometimes catch myself slipping into a state of delirious daydreaming at the very sight of you, because sometimes, I honestly find our connection too good to be true and my mind tricks me into thinking that the bond we share no longer exists in this world. And then we touch, we hug, we lock lips, and I can tell without doubt or equivocation that you are the real and tangible evidence of pure loving friendship. I know you recognize the same in me, because I see it in your eyes as well. I see it in the way you run up to embrace me, and I can sense it when I lead you along a heavily wooded trail through the wilderness of our collective thoughts and tribulations.

I want you to know above all else that I Love you. I want you to know that we are both special people in our own right. We are in a sense pariahs because we hold fast to the tried and true values of a society not of this day and age, that chooses to neglect its own individuality and morals of chivalry for such reasons as popular opinion and monetary gain. We strive for each other, and for the peace of mind which stems from leading a life long harmonious existence with and through those around us while living in no particular way but our very own.

Its interesting to think that we could have had our time together, as a conventional pair. We could have indured the social strains and bridged our age gap and we would have done it all with smiles on our faces and gratified hearts in the knowledge that people need not accept or understand our motives and feelings. All we would ever need and count on would have been each other. Is this so different than we are now? We are as we are, the same as we ever were, and I pray the same as we will always be.

You mean more to me than I dare you can ever know, Alissa. Please know that above all else.

-Your Soul Mate,

Jose Alberto Cueto

Fall

I heard the waves from the sidewalk of seashore Dr. Now I sit atop tower 52 gazing at an ocean turbulent and choppy, gray and white like the skies above.
- I feel, in a sense, not dissimilar to Holden Caufield, a lucky outcast who yearns for perpetual childhood amidst open field of rye. For me however, my open fields are more like vast expanses of water, graced by the occasional ride able wave.
2 Surfers have paddled out about 100 yards to my left. Not much to be surfed on this windswept stretch of beach i thought, nothing but wind-chop and whitecaps. These waves are like a One-Trick Pony, drop in to a hack, and that's that.

Newport is a ghost town with abundant parking.
Russel's surf shop is now on the better side of the street,
I like it.


I wondered to a lightly trodden piece of the peninsula, 19th st at the Bay, to rest my thoughts upon the tranquil waters of the harbor. The water was as a sheet of marbled streaked sky reflection of which there was no distinguishable discernment of the liquid mirror image reflection on the surface or the billowing sky aloft. Outside my car, the atmosphere was crisp with the feel of a moist welcome to the beginning of Autumn. The slight chill in the air was no more than a nip with the onshore breeze blocked by a barricade of private residence stretching several blocks deep to the sandy threshold of beach beyond. There slid the bow of a boat through the seamless channel, creating a series of waves that marched outward, away from the cutwater, as though they were elastic bands bending toward the exposed silt of the bay shore. I was left befuddled by the effect created by the incoming groundswell train making landfall. From the minuscule wavelengths coming ashore, there projected a series of barreling tube shaped breakers. No more than centimeters in diameter, the tiny barrels broke in perfect mathematical synchronicity. The way the swells trajectory traced a slight incoming angle to the land, the waves preformed an act of calculated physics, and bent lengthwise to wrap to the couture of the oncoming beach. I was left aghast when the churning curls swung past my place on the sand, and there emitted an audible gurgling, the sound of the lip of a wave slicing into the underlying water. It is the most unique sound in the universe, a hollow echo from the chasm of a holly cathedral of liquid cascading over itself to create a pocket of air, and a space of temporary existence within.
Oh, to be a minuscule rider on these waves, and to travel in the most perfect tiny tubes for seconds that would fold out like minutes along the inception of air and water.

Giving the Sun Thanks

Closing my eyes I distinguish a tree comprised of 1000 splended suns shimmering. A red glare is desolving over me, I now focus on the breath filling my chest. I can feel the cool breeze circulate streamlined across my bare flesh, I can sense the sun is setting. My world gives thanks for the warmth the wind the waves, for another beautiful day is come to a close. My eyes glide open, giving way to my sun-streaked inner eyelids to cast my gaze to the last half of the blazing sphere peaking over the haze hung horizon. The sky directly above appears as the purest shade of blue, its clarity is magnificent.

-The western sky now darkens beckoning the night,
darkness proceeds this part of the eternal fight.
Sun chasing Earth, light eclipsed by dark.
The crescent moon, she christens the night
With angelic light, Hark!

The Warmth of the Fleating summer

Sunlight painted mountains crest my tiny corner of existence. The coast to my right, the setting sun at my back. Nadine, keep rolling along study old girl, what a marvelous view! The long way home, the scenic route. Summer is over yet the sense of wonder still remains. Over the Santa Ana River now, and minuscule surf but from here everything from the crumbling waves to the crest of Saddleback Peak are drenched in the same shade of fantastic light. Bring on the desk, bring on the autumn. Take me along the path of the ever extending conception of time with its ebb and flow.

-peace of mind lies somewhere on the great Highway.

Summers final discussion

What a time, what things have i seen, people i have met and things i have come to realize about the world and about my self. The one thing i know for sure is that this has been on of the most memorable summer vacations i have yet lived through. Not too much more can be said about it otherwise. I have traversed this lonesome continent and traveled some beautiful country. I have surfed more locations than ever before and have conquered waves that have well exceeded any i had previously ridden, nothing seems heavy now, nothing too daunting. Lord knows i have plenty more to learn, but thats why I am going back to school tomorrow. Its a bit wondrous actually, i know i have escaped the grasps and restrictions of high school, yet i still dream that i am back in the old halls again being graced by the likeness of my good friends and apparitions of acquaintances i never really got to know. The only thing i think i may miss, at least for a little wile, will be the familiarity i grew accustomed to with being able to see the people i cared about (as well as those who i couldnt say the same for) on a daily basis. Thank goodness i am still in town, i will be within reach and i am still within fimilliar teritory. But the notion that gives me the most condolence and which steadies my hand through this changing of the times is that if i am lucky, tomorrow will still come out to be a different day to be experienced, and the seasons will come to a passing and the wind will still blow to bring waves to the shore(although i will now have considerably less time to ride them now). But in the final hours of summer i can still listen to my Bob Dylan records and know that tomorrow the music will remain, the same as it ever was.

Surfing Solo

It came about as a last minute split second idea, the kind you make on a dull Sunday afternoon when all you have done all day is sit indoors watching baseball and the sun is burning bright in a cloudless sky. I needed to get back to the sea. I have been surfing religiously for the the past three days chasing the first legit South Swell in weeks ravenously from Huntington Pier down to Laguna and San Clemente. I had surfed a spot Saturday early afternoon which my friends and I sarcastically refer to as Tits, AKA Super-tubes, because on the right conditions this place can dish out spitting tube after flaring tube and is as the name implies "Absolutely Tits". Its was superb on this day, a little crossed up and deceptive at times but on the right wave you could be looking up at a 6 ft pitching lip or standing tall inside of a churning shack staring wild-eyed at the best view of your life. I had this vision pulling into my second wave of the day, standing and pulling into a solid left i attained tremendous speed on the rising wall as i pumped my board through the section, i then turned off the top of the wave and dropped in to the end Bowl. Pulling into this final section, only feet from the shore and in no more that 3 ft of water i experienced the sensation of being fully enveloped by moving water and in that fraction of a second i gazed up at the roof of the barrel and out the exit hole to see the shoreline extending all the way to San Clemente. It was without a doubt one of the most spectacular views i have ever captured in my minds eye, i didn't even mind the thrashing i was dealt at the mercy of the pounding beach break, all i felt was the pure joy of self accomplishment and the satisfaction of having forgotten every other emotion or thought, leaving nothing but the notion of the unadulterated inner peace.
-But i Digress.....
It is now Sunday, and the swell is steadily pushing 7 ft at times and i have decided to paddle out at Huntington state beach solo. It didn't seem like a daunting test of my courage at the time, but then again i hadn't even seen a wave break yet. I park, walk to the nearest high wall and check the surf, it takes a few moments for me to catch a glimpse of a proper 6 ft set of walls peal along the outer shelf. I have seen enough and proceed to rush back to my car to suit up.
Few people understand the mentality of an amped surfer. It is one of pent up excitement, rushing adrenaline, uncontrolible urges to rush headlong into what most people consider a hostile environment and an undying surge of curiosity all mixed into a coktail of emotions so volitile that if an average non-watergoing human were to consume they would most sertainly blackout from a compleat sensory overload(upon waking up they would have to be emidiatly emitted into the nearest mental institution, or emidiatly handed a surfboard themselves). Standing on the shore strapping my leash to my ankle i noticed the ocean had created a channeling rip current for me, making my paddle out 30% easier than normal, i was still accosted by the usual inside crashers that get your hair wet and do a great job of making you feel like there is a bomb set coming on the outside waiting to crush all your hopes and dreams into oblivion. This however did not happen and i positioned myself farther out than the impact zone so as to not get cought inside.
-I have a morbid fear of being caught inside ever since i surfed Trail 5 during the swell of the decade on July 24 of 2009. You think going to school with a bunch of popularity crazed loonies who talk behind your back is a scary notion? Try staring up the face of a 15 ft wall of ocean about to break ten feet infront of your face and not being able to do a thing about it other than abandon ship, take a deep breath and dive for the bottom only to be lifted and dragged for what seems like days under water. But i digress.....
The waves were far from ideal in shape, i was paddling into moving mountain ranges with at least 5 different peaks and cross waves and not to mention nowhere to go once the wave was caught, nowhere but straight down as i found out on my first wave. I looked to set my line going left only to see that the peak was well ahead of me, so i resorted to try to go straight but the nose of my board instantly dove, throwing me ass over tea-cup into the churning mass of the classic Huntington washing machine. Impossible i thought to myself, "there is no way to get into these waves" i said outloud in frustration. I had no time to grummble for i was dead if i stayed in the Impact Zone. The next "makible" wave that came my way was a bit smaller and looked forgiving, so i precieded to tear ass across the face on my 6" 10' Brian Bulkly and kick out as it sectioned. I was then faced with the largest and ugliest set it has ever been my displeasure to lay eyes on at huntington. Demented, disgusting mountain formations of ocean were marching right at me! I paddled frantically to punch through the first one only to see the second wave about ready to crash right on me. "Oh hell no, not while I still breath", i gasped. In moments like this panic is very near to the heart of the surfer, yet he must not let it take hold for if it does he looses all common sense (which in my case is not a big deal because i have been told that i have very little common sense to lose anyway). Neadless to say the wave crashed well ahead of me and i was forced to execute a duck dive while holding on to my board for dear life. Thankfully my board and i punched through in one piece. After my shair of heavy situations i have come to find a way to deal with being shaken up and rattled, it often requires several sets of heavy breathing followed by a little mental pep talk which for me this time went something like, " Your OK. You are ALRIGHT. Pay no attention to the fact that you are utterly alone and there are no surfers out for at least 300 yards in either direction. Focus and pull it together, man!!!!!" Even in my mind i am not the best motivator, but it worked for me because a few more waves came my way, all disfigured and nasty, but i did not lose my cool. Then IT came. The wave was a churning wall at least 6 if not 7 ft tall with a fair amount of chop on and around it, but a small slot of face that looked like a manageable bowl, damn the rest of the gnarly face, so i began to chase this thing down. This was the Big Pappy that i knew was my only chance to salvage the session, so i paddled hard, felt the wave begin to take me and then a split second later the grim realization hit me that there was absolutely no save avenue for me to take in either direction. The right was out of the question and the left had a boil in the face that was already pitching the wave out, i had no choice but to go straight. I felt as though the drop down the face lasted more than a few seconds as the mass of ocean water built up and doubles up under me. It became vertical and i knew there was no way out of it at this point, i was either going to hold fast for dear life or become minssed-meat at the hands of this brute. NOT AN OPTION!!! I managed to iron-leg this puppy out and belly on my board to allow the white wash to push me to shore.
I tell you now i have never been more determined to make a drop nor have i been more relieved to have survived the impossible. When i came ashore i looked at my hands half in disbelief to realize i had made it out of that heavy of a situation, not to mention the stunned looks on the faces of the Asian family that was playing at the waters edge. That's how i knew it was heavy, because the looks they were giving me were ones of utter amazement. I proceeded to walk down the beach, half wanting to paddle back out in a more advantageous spot, but decided against it because the sun was already touching the horizon.
As i gazed out at the waves just as i began to walk off the beach i was overcome with what i would discribe as a self-consious realisation of my own existance in which i had to sit down in the sand and try to keep from breaking into tears in the flood of emotions i felt. In that moment all else in my mind dissapeared, reality became paramount in the sense that i felt simultaniousl the massive release of addrenaline that must have taken hold somewhere in the middle of my drop and the purity of essence that comes from the heart when you have overcome a seamingly insurmountible obsticle. I can tell you nothing can ever come close to that feeling i felt at the edge of the ocean this afternoon, maybe the feeling of the hearts realization of its counterpart in another, but whats true love got to do with it anyway? Love for me comes in the ocean when she presents me with the chance to test myself against her might and when her beauty shines in the light of the setting sun. I believe that it is not stupidity or machismo which draws surfers to the waves, but an undying love for the feeling attained by realizing the purity of ones existence in the simple act of riding a wave.
-Nothing could ever stop me from finding my peace of mind in the sea.

Thoughts apon returning to California

Maybe ill blame it on my partial drunkenness, or on the jet lag catching up with me, but my mind is twisting and turning and spinning circles around my ass right now. I should be happy because my cousins are in town and iv had planned many great activities to be partaken, yet i feel a strange sense of familiar entrapment within myself, like the feeling you get when you build up a notion in your head that at that time seems perfectly feasible, only to have it crumble from the top down like some awkwardly similar image of the twin towers on September 11( God save all those souls that died this day which will live in infamy, for i do not take your memories in vain). With out a doubt i am disillusioned beyond any self recognition, and yet it does not surprise me because i have no one but myself to blame for this state of pent up indecisive rage within me.
-Bury me at sea should i pass from this earth, let my body serve as feed for the creatures of the deep, so i may live in eternal peace with my one and only true love, The Sea, whose vast expanse and power have tough me the true meaning of myself more than any living being, and whose moods and expressions i can see more clearly than the irises of any human eye.




-In truth i am glad to be back in my home state. The humidity plays a Menes with the mind and serves only to question one's understanding of the ways of nature. Although the thunderstorms were really something else, in no other form does nature display her might more threateningly yet so beautiful as in the midst of a thunderstorm. Heavy rain, strong wind, and a sudden white flash of light that cast ghostly shadows on the objects in the near ground, to deliver seconds later the defining clap of thunder that eclipses all the most powerfully destructive sounds that mankind can produce. I could not help but to feel small and utterly insignificant in its midst. And yet, I have never felt more at one with the natural world than in the midst of that very storm. Could it be that perhaps i may be partially insane to think this, if this be so then i consider myself the lucky because i have no other way of thinking about things. It surely beats cowering in fear and shivering to the bone like a poor hound who gets nervous and goes insane with the very sound of falling rain on the roof of a house.