Deer Tick

What I've been listening to lately...

Slow Left

When I see stuff like this, it reminds me why I shouldn't stop surfing when it snows. That 6mm suits and lobster claws and frozen fingers - all that extra effort - it's not for nothing. Because I'll be damned if Dean Petty doesn't surf the shit outta that Silver Spoon. And I can't imagine he'd complain about the cold or the rain or the wind. Man's gotta cup full of fortitude. So here's to winter waves and sixty minute sessions!

On Instagram

Small waves, strong drinks, motorcycles and misbehaving on the @peanutbuttercoast!

Dano Forte x Captain Fin Co.

Sixty nine seconds with surfer-slash-shaper, Dano Forte. Brought to you by the Captain Fin Co.

A Pig Poem

A few days ago I asked my friend Mike, someone that sure knows how to Surf-A-Pig, if he'd be willing to offer a bit of advice in regards to sliding swine. Cause it ain't easy, you know? Big in the back, narrow in the nose, slow and steady. It takes a gentle touch. Some soft hands. I really wasn't sure what to expect. A diatribe about stop-and-go style? One hundred words about hot dogging? I certainly wasn't expecting a poem about pigs! "A quasi haiku of sorts." You never know what you're going to get with Gnar Gnar!

You'll Be Dead Soon Enough

“Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.”

- Ernest Hemingway

On The East

Dean Petty surfing a 9'10" Original Noserider somewhere near Nova Scotia.

Memory Loss

Because I can't remember to keep a memory card in my camera, I asked Karissa if she'd share a few of her cell phone photos from last weekend. It wasn't really working the way we'd hoped, so small waves, strong beer, horseshoes and hamburgers sorta sums up the experience. We spent Friday night in Fargo watching the first season of Futurama, Saturday morning searching for surf and Sunday sitting in the water, waiting for waves. Really can't complain, though. What else would we do with our weekend?!

Brought to you by Bing

When most people get married, they end up with all kinds of shit they already own. Toasters and towels, sheets and silver serving spoons. Gifts from grandma. So when Ms.Would and I were deciding what to do for our wedding, we figured that instead of allowing our friends and family to spend their scratch on that sorta stuff, we'd ask them to help us buy a couple of Bings. We soon heard the screechy sounds of nanny-nanny-boober-cakes. "Surfboards! You guys registered for surfboards?!" Not sure why she was so surprised. We surf almost every weekend and neither one of us had ever bought a brand new board. So why not skip the shit and get ourselves some new sticks?!

Temple

Affixed to my fridge is a long list of shit I'd like to see before I kick the proverbial bucket. Toward the top of this list is Deus Ex Machina's Temple of Enthusiasm, on the Indonesian island of Bali. I've blogged about it before. About the bikes they build, the single fin contests they curate and some of the shapers they've seemingly enchanted with their black Bali magic. It's an amazing place. Or so it appears. And this trailer for Jack Coleman's forthcoming film about the Temple just reaffirms my desire to depart.

Long Gone

What I've been listening to lately...

Bean Boots

I left my umbrella at the office. Must have slipped my mind. Unfortunately, when I woke up this morning it was raining. To avoid being both cold and wet, I put on my man pants, some warm socks, two t-shirts, a sweater and my Tellason Coverall. But between our apartment on Alki and my office in the Industrial District, I was soaked. Obviously an umbrella would have kept me dry. But not my boots - a real nice pair of Red Wing's that were wet all the way through to my socks. Suppose I need some new shoes. Something other than Servus boots. Something that'll work on the rain soaked streets of Seattle.

Enter L.L. Bean. Made in Maine since I don't know when, Bean Boots are everything I could ask for. Rubber bottomed, not too tall and insulated if you want. Perfect for a pretentious asshole like myself who doesn't wanna look like an unemployed fish flinger. And they're affordable. $169 for the GORE-TEX flavor. Not bad for boots still made in the states. So the next time I forget my umbrella at the office, at least I know my socks won't be wet when I get to work. Just one more thing on my #wishlist.