OBVIOUSLY NOTHING TO GET ALL HET UP OVER, BUT… WAR, HMMM, Who is this GOOD for?

Posted on by under Uncategorized

It’s not all that surprising to wake up and discover, not that it was a headline, that we and Israel are bombing Iran. No, even after our president was, and this is his signature, possibly overstated, skill, in the very midst of negotiating a replacement for the peace deal he tore up out of, hard to say, envy. Oh, and Iran is firing back. YEAH, this kind of non-political talk doesn’t belong on this page. I HAVE a page for this; I haven’t written anything specifically referencing how the FIFA peace prize recipient justifies this action… regime change, nuclear stuff; but I will. Don’t let a little war and destruction disturb your brunch, or whatever plans you have for today. As self centered as I am, I’m going to go fill up my van’s gas tank. Check the NON-POLITICAL ERWIN page later for non-hysterical updates.

HERE is a photo I have spent an amazing amount of time trying to send to one of my clients. It was sent to me by surfer/snowboarder/real estate sales star JOEL CARBEN. It is his office/man cave at his home and features a sort of psychedelic moose head (I’m thinking not actually formerly live animal- could be wrong), a brilliantly painted (by me) cedar surfboard (different story, somewhere in the archives), and one of four screens (formerly bi-fold doors) that I painted a couple of years ago. Both sides, so eight images.

The screens and an assortment of other original Erwin Dence drawings and paintings have been on exhibit at the COLAB in downtown PORT TOWNSEND, a collaborative work space owned and operated by Joel and his super smart wife, RACHEL.

JOEL sent a message to a phone I no longer have, having given up the two phones I mostly used to find the unlost phone. Yes, scary; but my super secret stealth surf phone’s numbers were mostly on my work phone anyway, and anyway… blah, blah, blump; I never got the message that Joel was interested in maybe, down the line, after ski season, after he makes his next killer commission, purchasing the screen.

THE PROBLEM with anything in the art world, and anything, really, is setting a price. Joel made an offer. I considered it. I’m not a negotiator, and the proof is that, after years and years of painting for a living, I am still painting. Exercise? Sure. Use of my time that might otherwise be spent and/or wasted in contemplation or surfing or writing or just not fucking worrying about money? Not really.

HOWEVER, and possibly because I’ve never made any real money in my pursuit of ART, with the added argument that I never painted them to keep at my house, I decided to allow Joel to have the screen on a sort of longterm loan basis. I have done this sort of dealing with surfboards, including a longterm loan from ARCHIE ENDO to me, which I have since longtermed to ADAM ‘WIPEOUT’ JAMES.

Joel and surfer/artist STEPHEN R. DAVIS at the COLAB in Port Townsend.

IF YOU want to make an offer on any original Erwin pieces, OR if you want to complain, tell stories, write erwin@realsurfersdotnet I will definitely read your stuff, quite possibly add it to my blog, good or bad. OH, AND THANKS FOR CHECKING OUT MY SITE.

ONE MORE NOTE on the war: I have been working on a short story involving a pedophile and some revenge/justice. AND I am continuing to try to finish my novel, “SWAMIS.”

The Fine Art of Self Aware Sublimation/Repression

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, mind surfing, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf addiction, surf culture, surf fiction, surf novels, surf sessions, surfing blogs, surfing in Washington State, writings of Erwin Dence

My cat, TONY, destroying a corner of my drawing table, and NAM SIU and I (no, not my sprinter van, but, yes, a sprinter van) taken recently. Nam has been recovering from a horrific illness in which he lost a significant percentage of his body fat. When I saw him a while back, I, of course, asked him (in my usual friendly way) if he HAD TO gain it all back and more at one time. I sort forced him to get a photo taken with before he loses the weight, which I have no doubt he will. I have no illness-related explanation of or excuse for my weight-to-head size, BUT, hey, I have to say… yeah, I look pretty good.

Nam’s once and current diet.

UNNECESSARILY DEEP PSYCHOLOGICAL STUFF

Wait! No! The Superbowl was, like, two weeks ago, the next season is… a ways away. The swells from the atmospheric rivers are pumping waves somewhere, but not into the oddly tilted Strait of Juan de Fuca, and the forecast is kind of bleak. What now?

I choose this design by JUNAARTFOUND because the tagline said something about ‘Sublimation.’ This is a word I can never think of when I’m thinking of how we substitute (re-channel is probably more accurate) our own desires (some of which are of a… pardon me… sexual nature) into something else. Like, maybe, sports. There are other outlets for the tensions that, some evidence shows, humans seem to be cursed, or blessed with. Prayer and denial are popular. Repression. Sure. Violence, real or imagined, is, obviously, one way to control or burn our lust, bloodlust or whatever-lust. Video games and John Wick movies; there are choices other than signing up to join ICE

Psychology 101 taught me, if little else, that all lusts seek to eliminate themselves. Hunger-eat, for example. The philosophical followup is that being full, satiated, only lasts so long. There is something that tastes better than a perfect strawberry dipped in dark chocolate. Maybe. There is a wave riding experience beyond the most perfect ride we can remember.

So we continue the search.

AS I WRITE THIS, I’m feeling a bit apologetic for getting too deeply into all this. Too late. We all have tensions and stressors. We all need outlets. I have been accused, at least once, of being repressed. A bit surprising to me since my emotions seem easily read, and I’m also accused of being filterless, of saying what I’m thinking before I think about what I’m saying. YEAH, okay, I’ll say I am. There’s more I don’t say. I have fears that go beyond my family and my friends. Fear leads directly and quickly to anger. I have anger issues stemming from tragedies and horrors I cannot stop, or even lessen. I have also been described as having an inadequate amount of empathy. I have enough to feel for those who do.

I DEVOTE A LOT of my energy to not panicking to not freaking the fuck out.

Writing is one of my de-stressors, a place where I can push my fear of speaking out, the boundaries of my repression, peacefully, knowing that even if I write what I consider the perfect turn of phrase, the perfect rebuttal to those who push the hateful lies and seek protection (or actively protect) from accountability for the most heinous acts, it won’t be enough. I won’t be satisfied for long.

TO BRING THIS BACK to surfing; one of the oft-spoken values is that one can forget everything else and move in the cosmic wonderfulness. FACT CHECK- Yes, this happens. If the goal is to move through the changing crowds and conditions without panicking or freaking the fuck out, and surf until you’re exhausted enough that you don’t care who gets that wave you might have surfed better, congratulations. If you got a ride to put into your near-perfect file… that’s probably as good as it gets.

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net

INSTAGRAM (mostly original songs with harmonica)- realsurfersdotnet

THE video, “ERWIN” is now on my ABOUT page. If you haven’t seen it… check it out.

‘SWAMIS’ UPDATE- I’m up to, like, page 200, of 226, on what I hope to be my final edit before someone has the good sense to publish the novel.

PAGE II- NON-POLITICAL ERWIN. There is an update concerning why anyone would feel compelled to give a shit about kid rock.

THANKS for checking out my blog. See out on SURF ROUTE 101.

Superbowl Rehash/Recovery/Convalescence and…

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf culture, surf culture events, surfing blogs, surfing Southern California in the 60s, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence

Me, with hearing aids, and Dru’s ginger cat, NICHOLAS, aka Sam Darnold.

DYLAN SCOTT, the son of TRISHA’S brother and his wife, JIM and GREER (note how inclusively proper I’m being), sent me this shot of him surfing at a spot he (and SURFLINE, to whom [whom because corporations are people, too] he pays a possibly significant monthly fee) identify as “GEORGE’S.

It is obvious, at 9:53 or so on SUPERBOWL SUNDAY, that goofyfoot Dylan has the green light in his favor as well as a reduced crowd because all the North San Diego County surf enthusiasts were, no doubt, pulling avocados off the trees to prepare a satisfying snack. WHAT wasn’t obvious to me, when I was checking out the photo on the phone, in bed (after a game that was probably boring [other than the half time show] for everyone who wasn’t a SEAHAWKS or, you know that other team fan, with us [Seahawks fans] absolutely riveted/worried, clutching our skittles, and oysters, and rosary beads, and listening to STEVE RAIBLE and DAVE WYMAN on the radio because we just don’t trust or like commentary from CHRIS COLLINGSWORTH)… exhausting… what wasn’t obvious to me was, where the hell is George’s. SO, I texted Dylan.

Evidently George’s is on the section of beach between CARDIFF REEF and SEASIDE TRAILER REEF, both of which, according to my research on the GRAM, were going off on this day. SO, I had to do more texting, the you-really-don’t-want-to-hear “Back in my day” stories, bearing in mind that I started surfing the North County beaches beyond Oceanside Pier and Tamarack in 1965, and left the area in late 1978. “Just in time” you might say. “Yes. I hear it has become more crowded.”

SO, Dylan, ya see, that part of the beach, in the mid seventies, when I lived in Encinitas, was called STRETCHMARK BEACH. This was, according to the hipster who hipped me to it, because, paraphrasing here, “Surf chicks who, like, had babies, they would take them there rather than, you know, other spots.” However rude and inappropriate, I stand by the previous name.

Continuing the ‘my day’ stuff, before my day, there was a pier in Cardiff, and, when I moved to the Great Pacific Northwest, SEASIDE TRAILER PARK was not yet a parking lot. AND, and, yes, I did once surf there, on a Sunday afternoon, with DONALD TAKAYAMA the only other surfer in the water.

NOT bragging, but grateful.

“ERWIN” THE MOVIE news:

Not sure this will work. I have the cheapest WordPress account, and didn’t think I could have videos. I ran into JASON QUEEN, both of us getting skunked. He stumbled onto the beach and into this video by Annie Fergerson. The link I previously posted no longer works. Possibly because the video was picked up and shown as part of the PORT TOWNSEND FILM FESTIVAL and was part of the worldwide SAVE THE WAVES festivals, Jason seemed to believe there is some fame attached to being in it. YES, there is now a sub-genre of videos featuring old surfers still at it, but, no, I don’t seem to have any lingering side effects of my notoriety.

All I was really trying to do was post the link. If you haven’t seen this, yes, I do realize there’s a bit of comic relief here, and, yes and again, I do realize my level of ridiculousness. I just keep trying to rise above it. OR, maybe it’s part of my evil scheme to get a few more waves in a crowd.

GRIPES AND HYPES, and any comments, write me at erwin@realsurfers.net

INSTAGRAM ME- realsurfersdotnet

HEY, if I can, indeed, post videos, I might try putting up another page with some MUSICAL ERWIN stuff. FUN. Hope you’re getting enough waves that you won’t be there when I go the next time. Nothing personal. HAPPY VALENTINES DAY to those I love, and to all lovers. HAPPY HATERS’ DAY (whenever that is- seems to be most days) to all the haters.

There is no top to love short of heaven, no bottom to hate. The difference between love and hate is the difference between flying and falling. It’s where you land. Oh, yes, and how you land.

Trying to Look at Surfing from Multiple Angles Pre Superbowl Stuff

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I had to double back after passing CHIMACUM TIMACUM at Worthington Park in Quilcene. Tim called me as I passed, the recently replaced fanbelt on my car squealing. “Oh, so you’re the kind of guy who drives twelve miles to walk his dog?” “Yes. And my ex-wife’s dog.” “Good. When’s the surf going to happen?” “It’s always, like, maybe two days out.” “Always.”

          Amalia and Dru and my thumb or forefinger.               

  Attempting to Change to be Culturally… Um… Semi Cultured… Or…

There wasn’t actually a ‘come to Jesus’ kind of moment in which I, miraculously, discovered that I may be prejudiced (as in pre-judging) in believing, or thinking, that the perfect woman surfer should be STEPHANIE GILMORE, or a woman with the attributes of Stephanie Gilmore: Stylish, graceful, feminine (whatever that means), absolutely fierce in her surfing, savage as a competitor, and yet…

And yet, following the latest Pipeline contest, GABRIELA BRYAN, frequently identified as Gaby, always referred to as a ‘power surfer,’ very capable of getting an excellent score with one reentry, one wave-wrecking hack, won. And yes, this means she won the final, in what was, as described by a local, as “A beach break over a shallow reef.”

Let me now say that I only go to Port Angeles to go past it and on to somewhere with the (remote) possibility of rideable waves. NO, TRISH and I did go up there for a DAVID SEDARIS concert/reading. Trish is a major fan, which I take some credit for, always alerting her to his being on “This American Life” on NPR.

I missed the last semi-final because I was going to a ‘cultural event’ at the Field House in Port Angeles that featured writer LINDY WEST, who, coincidentally, lives in Quilcene (where Trish and I have lived for forty-seven oh-my-God years, and where our children were raised). DRU discovered this Quilcene connection, not one Lindy, in her presentation, mentioned, but was the instigator behind our cultural journey up Surf Route 101. We picked up Quilcene raised AMALIA BAKER (who also has a connection with Dru’s job with the Olympic Music Festival) in a fogged-to-the-max Sequim and found our way to the waterfront venue.

Very nice. We were seated in the balcony, third row from the railing. Cheaper seats, Dru said, but we were in the middle. Fine. Though the row in front of us was empty (great- chance to hang my legs over) our row was filled, which meant that other attendees, mostly women (actually, like 90%) had to squeeze past from both directions, coming and going. Fine. The stranger to my left whipped out a pack of gum, and possibly because I looked around, offered me a stick, “Not that you need it.” Whether I did or didn’t, it would have been rude to decline. And, once chewing, there was really no un-rube-like way to dispose of the gum, me in my black on black outfit with my non-Seahawks cap and my no-paint-on-them shoes, my hearing aids pre-installed and adjusted so I could, one, hear more than every fan or motor, and, two, so that the devices didn’t squeal, a piercing alarm evidently discernible from a distance.

This photo was identified as Jenny Jimenez, possibly a pseudonym, possibly the photographer,. Lindy West and her husband, photo possibly taken in the wilds of Quilcene

DON’T PANIC!  It went fine. Fine despite the women to my left laughing almost hysterically at humor that evaded if not escaped me. And, of course, I laughed at things in the presentation that no one else seemed to get. Amalia (always called Molly) and DRUCILLA (usually called Dru) were properly reserved in their appreciative responses.

Not to belabor this much further, but the message from Lindy West, who had a TV series (“Shrill”) for three years, has been (I would say) successful as a writer, is that she considers herself as pretty-much a loser… BUT, hey, why not try to do modified standup?

I get it. Self-deprecation seems like modesty. It isn’t.

So, somewhere between my accepting the gum and the start of the powerpoint presentation, I admitted to Dru and Molly that I may be wrong in not fully appreciating the ability of a ‘big girl’ (got this from Dru- some reference to “Silence of the Lambs”) like Gabriella, usually referred to as Gaby, to turn or win a heat with one big off the lip or one big power hack. I mean, really, how can an old fat dude be critical of… anyone who competes and wins?

Sure, I can; I’ll just try not to.

Oh, and did you notice my self-deprecation there? Totally fake.

Oh, and I’m still rooting for Sally Fitzgibbons, often called Sal or Sally Fitz, known for charging, to get back on the big tour.                 

A photo by ADAM ‘WIPEOUT’ JAMES from a recent trip to the coast. ‘SOUPY’ DAN, restauranteur surfer previously and sometimes known as YODELING DAN was also in attendance. There may or may not be photos available of incredible waves with offshore winds. It’s always more appropriate to post photos with less than awesome waves. However…

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net

INSTAGRAM- realsurfersdotnet

Page Two- May or may not mention that I got a sudden bunch of hits from Israel. Not sure why.

I am considering starting an account on SUBSTACK. This may focus on my novel, “SWAMIS.” I’ll keep you posted.

Get some waves, and…

GO SEAHAWKS!

Triple Win… Perhaps, and (Some) Credit to San Francisco 49ers and LA Rams

Posted on by under Erwin Dence surf illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf illustrations, surf novels, surfing illustrations, writings of Erwin Dence

After a session at a spot on the Olympic Peninsula coast, RICO MOORE, watching (or taking over) someone else’s fire, took the photo of KEITH DARROCK coming in. I ‘borrowed’ and posted it. THEN I did a black and white drawing. (obviously not, like, traced), made a copy of it, colored it in. Not satisfied, I made a copy of that so I could add more ink. Then… fattened up the borders. SO, multiple credit. YES, I will offer Rico a copy. And then… I might go back, turn it into more of a poster look.

Nothing is ever really finished.

The SUPERBOWL is (maybe you heard) coming up, and our (funny how and when we claim ownership of teams we in no way own) SEATTLE SEAHAWKS are up against the NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS (not arguing how folks with opposing views all consider themselves the ‘real’ patriots- maybe that’s as American a thing as there is) in the sixtieth rendition of this game/event/show.

As much as we (fans, casual to occasional to rabid) HATE hate hate the other three teams in the NFC WEST (maybe a little less this year for the Arizona Cardinals), it seems pretty apparent, with three teams from our Conference in the playoffs, that LA and San Francisco are… good.

It seems, also, obvious, that playing at least twice a season against great (yeah, I bumped them up- because we’re here- wouldn’t have, otherwise) teams only makes the Seahawks BETTER.

NOT that it’s going to be a blowout on Sunday; we’re all way too superstitious (backed up by, you know, history) to get too too cocky, but (yes, I’m knocking on wood AND crossing myself), if, say, the game, as some Superbowls have been, is pretty much over by halftime (I almost never watch the halftime shows- probably will this year in support of American performer), I will watch it until…

THE END.

WSL- I am waiting for more PIPELINE. I am sorry Mason Ho isn’t still in it.

INSTAGRAM- I posted another original video, me playing Harmonica and singing the first verse of an original song. Check it under Erwin A. Dence, Jr. or realsurfersdotnet Here are the lyrics, mine, copyrighted, all rights reserved (legal required):

I see she has an ukulele, ukulele, ukulele; I’m betting that she plays it daily, Ukulele, hukalau.

Every surfer needs an ukulele, ukulele, ukulele; I bought myself an ukulele, maybe she could teach me how.

I have many, many original songs. I am going to try to put one out there on MONDAYS.

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net

Waves… they’re out there.

Glassy Conditions on Surf Route 101, Medical Updates, Instagram Stuff- New Harmonica Erwin Video Available

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, real surfers, surf trips, surfing blogs, writings of Erwin Dence

OUT ON SURF ROUTE 101, the waves might not be much bigger on the STRAIT than the ultra glassy Lake Leland. I had to get a photo of the only one at the lake; talked him into putting his leg up on the rock the way it was when I (almost) drove past.

Our family friend George Takamoto has been enduring the horrors of three-times-a-week dialysis, not to mention the kidney failure and the times where infections and other side stuff from his treatment risked his life. He called my on Monday with the news that he got the kidney transplant. George’s sister, Valerie, came up to help out. George has already been released and is staying on the Seattle side for a while to help with her many trips to the University of Washington hospital.

In other medical news, Trish has been (slowly) improving, recovering from the post surgery chemo. She still has to go through radiation, so… as always, fuck cancer!

This photo from somewhere on the coast was taken by RICO MOORE. I planned to do a drawing of this, but, so far, haven’t. I didn’t want to use this amazing shot today, but… yeah, I am, BUT, to make up for using it, I will probably have to give the illustration to him. But, yeah, I’ll have copies.

INSTAGRAM NEWS- I’m on it; still haven’t figured it out. I will. I plan on making more HARMONICA ERWIN videos. Check me at realsurfersdotnet OR, I don’t know, search for Erwin Dence. Meanwhile, I’ve been following a lot of surfers, comedians, singers, artists… so much politics that, with my personalized algorithms, I feel like I might be in a left wing echo chamber. I do know what the right wingers are saying, so… staying there. I do wish more of my local Olympic Peninsula friends would post more frequently.

“SWAMIS” the novel news- I’m about two-thirds of the way through the, hopefully, final draft. I’ve been putting chapters on this site, but, this close, fighting to get something publishable for this wrong, editing out stuff that didn’t move the story along (painful), and loving every moment I’ve spent thinking about it, working on it, I’m considering not posting too much of it. NOT that anyone could actually steal the story- way too complex, and hopefully, way too real.

SURF FORECAST- It seems like the storms have been missing the Strait. Hopefully the waves have been showing up wherever you’re surfing. Find them; surf them. Good luck!

Check Me Out on the Gram; Me, Some Surfing, Some Seahawks, Some Music Stuff, and Everything Marshawn Lynch… Oh, and… NEW- Page II, NON-POLITICAL ERWIN

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

I believe I got this from the NFL. Marshawn Lynch got fined, famous, and somehow, beloved.

After an extended period of not being on Facebook, Linked In, and Instagram, because I want to further my non-house-painting ambitions, and acting on some advice from… NO, it was partly because Olympic Peninsula ripper KEITH sent me a video of soul surfer CLINT THOMPSON (clintthompson1065 instagram handle) playing a guitar and singing a song he wrote and… AND Keith, Port Townsend Librarian, and I have been discussing and sort of planning the NEXT OCCASIONAL SURF CULTURE ON THE STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA EVENT, placing an emphasis on SURF MUSIC… AND I (admittedly and sadly not a great singer) do some song writing… AND I wanted to watch the video, but couldn’t… AND because Keith has spent some of his TIME SUCK hours on Instagram… AND… so… now…

I’M BACK on Instagram. Yes, I needed DRU to find my password and all that, BUT, once on there, I possibly posted a sketch, possibly wrote a comment urging anyone to check out my blog. I say ‘possibly’ because I haven’t figured out how to find my site. OKAY, for you, it’s either under REALSURFERSDOTNET (probably lower case), OR you can look for Erwin A. Dence, Jr.

My next step was to get the App on my phone. Got it without help. Then… THEN I started ‘FOLLOWING.’ Maybe it’s like Facebook, when I, very briefly, tried that out, before the thought of begging anyone to ‘like’ me (the theory being if I like you, maybe you might like me back) slowed me down to… a… stop. It’s out there, along with my abandoned LinkedIn account and my lapsed membership in several organizations. But, maybe, later, I’ll be more of a joiner.

THE NFL CONFERENCE GAME IS TODAY, so all these SEAHAWKS SITES (players with highlights, critics with critiques, soothsayers with sooth, and I just kept hitting “FOLLOW” like I was another football adjacent and rabid believer/fan, ready for any content, real or (even) AI, that projected OUR TEAM as WINNERS.

The ALGORITHMS are clear; I need MORE MARSHAWN!

THIS is me writing on Saturday night. There are many anxious hours before Marshawn raises the 12th man flag tomorrow.

We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow on the SEAHAWKS side of things. I did look for Clint Thompson on Instagram; didn’t find him. I WILL and I’ll let you know. YES, I did ‘follow’ some more folks, did watch some more vids. Sorry.

ACTUAL SURF STUFF- The coast frequently has waves. True. I did get in a couple of sessions since my rejection a while back. Not all time; one was almost fifty/fifty between awkward-but-reasonably okay rides and blown waves, with at least one makes-it-worth-it ride, the second was maybe 60/40, good to crappy, with more of those swoopy, slippery rides I love. Next time…

NEW, NEWER, NEWEST- PAGE II – NON-POLITICAL ERWIN-

You may not check our realsurfers.net to read about politics. That’s fair. Perhaps your world is so focused on getting barreled that you don’t want to devote the head space to considering just how fucking dangerous our country is right now. Sure, tens of thousands (unbelievably) are being killed in Iran for protesting and, you know, like only a few hereabouts, so…

So I decided to add a page for NON-POLITICAL ERWIN. Check to top line. If you click on Page II, yeah, political shit. As with everything to do with my site, your choice. It’s (still) America. Freedom!

A sign for 37-year-old Alex Pretti, who was fatally shot by a U.S. Border Patrol officer earlier in the day, is displayed during a vigil Saturday, Jan. 24, 2026, in Minneapolis. (AP Photo/Adam Gray)

A final motivation in my pushing the boundary of my computer skills is the murder, yesterday (this is me editing on Sunday) of ALEX PRETTI. TRISH got an email from her cousin, STEVE, in Minnesota. Steve is retired Air Force, and recently went through a horrific fight with cancer of the tongue. Horrible. Mr. Pretti was an ICU nurse on his case. So, a real person doing a job that, forgive me if I’m wrong, a hateful person cannot do. Dead. Pepper sprayed, beaten, shot ten times.

Again, forgive me if I’m concerned enough to write something about this. SO, PAGE II.

NOTE- I do edit the shit out of my blog, but I haven’t figured out how to edit the page II, so there’s not much on there this time. As with all things real: NEXT TIME.

To quote the Stephen Stills/ Buffalo Springfield lyrics, “Something’s happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear, there’s a man with a gun over there, telling me I’ve got to beware.” What I might say, if I were to be in any way political (or bolder than I am) of the intimidation tactics so popular with ICE is that “It works either way.” If agents of the government, pocketing their shockingly high signup bonus, jacked up on fake machismo, brandishing automatic weapons against civilians, hiding their faces because soldiers for a just and righteous cause should be anonymous, promised immunity by unelected, power and hatred-maddened advisors, unchecked by those elected to contain egregious overreach, unrestrained by the laws, the Constitution, and any sense of a shared humanity, kill Americans with impunity, it chills the rest of us. If one or more of these murderers is brought to justice… same result; bad apple in a supposedly just role. Beware.

There are heroes out there. There is truth. Out there.

I am available; erwin@realsurfers.net. Don’t be afraid to write.

Seahawks Today, Dylan Laughs (Not AI), Sketch,

Posted on by under Erwin Dence surf illustrations, non-political Erwin,, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf art, surf illustrations, surf novels, surfing Southern California in the 60s, surfing Swamis, writings of Erwin Dence

Image by David Patterson

I must be buying into the hype. Definitely feeling the anxiety; Seahawks and Forty-Niners. There’s too much history. It says something that three teams from the NFC West are in the playoffs. There was no way it wasn’t going to be us against San Francisco or, maybe worse, Los Angeles. This is part of the reason I’m doing this today rather than after the… whatever happens five hours or so from now.

This drawing was inspired by a photo by RON STONER of BARRY KANAIAUPUNI, Malibu, 1965. I remembered seeing a video (film) of the stylemaster and power surfer executing a ride at Malibu, ending it with a perfect kickout-to-knee paddle. I was looking for a photo sequence of him (or anyone) executing an in-the-tube island pullout. When I compare my drawing with the photo… Tough with pen and ink to get an image as smooth and glassy as a Stoner photo.

Mike Doyle doing a STANDING ISLAND PULLOUT at Makaha. Photo by JOHN SEVERSON.

No one seems to have the island pullout as part of their surf repertoire. Along with a flyaway kickout, the island pullout was one of my favorite moves. Usually done from a crouch, one version involves (possibly) grabbing the outside rail and rotating the nose of the board into the wave until the fin pops out. The island pullout has largely been replaced by airs and off-the-lip maneuvers, those descendants of the 60s era ‘roller coaster.’ Nowadays, when I have to bail on my SUP; I try to fall forward and crank. It sort of works.  


                          UNTIL DYLAN LAUGHS (Not AI)

I haven’t had one of these dreams in a while. Dreams are meant to vanish, and most do; except that, these dreams leave an impression that is more like a memory of something real. I had one of these dreams last night.

There are several specific categories of these false memory dreams, some frightening, others annoyingly repetitious, each seemingly rotating in randomly, as if they’re on shuffle.

In the Dylan-specific dream category, I’m, and not for the first time, at some gathering in a dark room, a dining room or a motel room or a café. I’ve always had the impression that the location is somewhere up in Bakersfield or San Bernardino, though neither of these cities have been ‘up’ for me in many a year.

There are five or six of us sitting at a table, mostly men, playing cards in a lazy sort of way.  There is a woman, an unlit cigarette in her mouth, one over to my right. Dylan is straight across from me, pulling in a loose scattering of chips and a pocket watch.

“Lucky,” someone says.

Dylan nods and pushes the watch toward the middle of the table.

Others in the room are shadows in the hazy background, sitting on couches or leaning in toward each other. Over the muffled conversations and clinking glasses I can hear, vaguely, another woman, one I cannot see, singing. She finishes up a tangly, cowboy sort of song, her guitar backed by at least one other, with la la las rather than lyrics.  

Then silence.

Dylan is nodding. He looks to my right, to my left, then directly at me.

This is Dylan somewhere just before, perhaps, he took on the Salvador Dali look.

He takes off his sunglasses, squints, looks at his hands, looks back at me. His expression seems to be asking if I have something to say. Or ask.

He is waiting; but he won’t wait for long.

“I, um, It’s just that I’ve always wondered what kind of person can just… sing, sing in front of… I mean, even in front of a few friends… Not to mention… even more… people.”

There is, of course, a hush. Waiting.

Then Dylan speaks. “I’ve… I’ve just always wondered…” Dylan was mocking me. Had to have been. But he was smiling. His speaking voice, and I’ve always noticed this, is exactly like my brother Jon’s. There were some background chuckles. “I’ve wondered… how someone can just… show up… in another person’s dreams.”

Pause.

“You…  You invited me.

                          

It took a few moments, hiking up the beach, to realize this wasn’t what my brain said it was; a jetty where there had not been a jetty. Optical illusion. If it appears there are rideable waves; no, also an illusion. The log was jammed into the rocks during the recent KING TIDES. For now, it provides a convenient spot for celebrating.

LET’S look for something worth celebrating.

SO, The non artificial intelligence generated (so, I guess, real) illustration and piece on Dylan are copyright protected, all rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr.

NON-POLITICAL ERWIN- I’m going check into doing a second page. I’d really prefer to not get involved in all the disturbing shit going on, ICE-TAPO, GREENLAND LUST, PEDOPHILE PROTECTORS, HEALTH CARE FUCK STORIES, CONGRESSIONAL SURRENDER, SUPREME COURT DISFUNCTION, EPSTEIN SKIDS, FIRST AMENDMENT THREATS, NOBEL PRIZE REGIFTING, EGO STROKING, EPSTEIN, EPSTEIN, Yeah, shit like that. Not that I have any strong opinions.

And if I do, they are, thankfully, protected by the U.S. Constitution.

The Cat Crash Laptop

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

No, of course I should not have had the laptop on a TV table, unstable enough that TONY could, bounding over to greet me, knock the table over and bend the plug in portion of the cable that connects the hand me down (from Dru) computer to the vital (because the screen portion of the laptop no longer works), and great, monitor.

Of course not.

Do I love trying to hunt and peck my way to a post on my tablet? It’s… Something.

I can’t add the new drawing or the new photos, and…

And, does Tony, begging for food an attention (the “pet me” and the “I’m so cute” his usual ruse, easily translated to “Feed me, Dude”) give even a single shit that I am trying to unbend the mini plug in part of the heavy cord?

Of course not.

So… I do have content. Just exactly like those sessions your friends get and you miss, classic, epic, all time awesome content.

But, hey, I have to go. Tony’s litter pan needs changing, his water filled, oh, and isn’t he adorable, jumping up in the middle of my drawing table, knocking off anything loose, and then punching me because I didn’t pet him quickly enough?

Actually, yes: quite adorable.

If you can figure out the surf forecast, when and where… Good luck. It will be EPIC!

Only Three Times I Watched TV All Day

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, real surfers, surf contests, surf culture, surf novels, surfing, surfing blogs, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence
SAN CLEMENTE, CALIFORNIA – SEPTEMBER 8: Seven-time WSL Champion Stephanie Gilmore of Australia after winning the World Title at the Rip Curl WSL Finals on September 8, 2022 at San Clemente, California. (Photo by Pat Nolan/World Surf League).
I watched every heat.

9/11.2001 photo by Gulnara Samoilova originally published in the Guardian

Dan Nieman called me at an ungodly early hour to discuss a painting job in progress. “Hey, something’s happening in New York.” I watched the second plane hit, everything thereafter.

Photo of 9/11 Insurrection from Spectrum News

Trump and his cronies were still making speeches when I turned on the TV. Then, folks ambling toward the capital like tourists. Then… Undeniable, unpardonable, treasonous insurrection. Then… and since, denial, pardons, lies. And either those who propagate the lies don’t care if we know the truth or they believe enough Americans are like those citizens who, and I believe this, were innocent bystanders… unless they didn’t realize this was a criminal act and turned away. They share some guilt, not quite as much as those who realize the lie of the whitewash and fail to say it is that.

SHIMMER AND SHINE

It’s the shimmer, always was, the shimmer and the shine, Shimmer and shine, those were the goals, yours and mine, To be weightless, caught up in and part of the shimmer, Bathing in the shimmer and dancing in the shine.

We’ve seen the thinnest slice of light, The glimmer, faintest speck of hope, Pulsing on the horizon,  Flashes between us and what’s beyond, Wind ripped sky reflecting, imperfectly, The chaos between us, pressed against each other As the layers of the firmament, clouds, sheets and blankets, Are unfurled toward us and past us.

The universe, the further beyond, Its twinkling starry map unreadable to us, Ancient braille. Marking the route, perhaps, to Heaven.

Messengers and seekers and those perilously balancing, Too close to drowning, Those downed by regret, broken by fear, scarred by sorrow, Exhausted byy repeated failures, Mourn for lives too long lost, Pray for rescue, Look for some distant beacon, Imagine the veil of darkness pierced, Imagine or remember Bathing in the shimmer and dancing in the shine.

There’s too much to consider, Holding you this close, Standing this close to a raging sea, This far from a twisted sky.

I’m certain you’ve seen it, I’ve seen, in your eyes, Flashes of light, Sparkling, Glistening, Hopeful, The shimmer and the shine,

And we are… still… dancing.

Thanks for checking out realsurfers.net. Contact: erwin@realsurfers.net Shimmer and Shine, Copyright 2026, All rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr.

As always, waves are out there; find some.