WAIT! I am working on stuff. If you are reading this paragraph, check back later. I mean, if you would be so kind. Thanks. Working on it. EMERGENCY UPDATE (1 pm) It’s my birthday (13 plus sixty, if I base it on when I started board surfing), and I’m not going to have some of the new stuff I was planning on posting (surf, resistance stuff on Gaza, Epstein, Normalization of pedophilia and the discounting of damage to children, Hypocrisy in General, Selective Moral Blindness, Authoritarian/Fascist use of Gestapo/Mafia tactics, Fear, Fear Mongering, Hunger and Famine and Genocide and Ethnic/Religous Cleansing, and, oh yeah, Cowardice.

If I had a good reason to talk about surfing, present tense, I would. Past tense, I have been responding to some birthday texts that included questions about surf spots and such; future (hopefully) perfect tense, the WSL finals in Fiji are coming up and I’ve seen some videos. SO… hoping. No predictions, but some of the best tube riders are in the mix.

If you want to get a hold of me (other than by the neck), Please write me, erwin@realsurfers.net

“ERWIN” the film news: The short film by ANNIE FERGERSON has been making the rounds of art/surf film events, and will be shown twice at the upcoming PORT TOWNSEND FILM FESTIVAL (PTFF). If you can’t make it, I will post a link when I figure out how to do it. The VIMEO link I had no lonnger works. Sorry.

POETRY/SHORT STORY SECTION:In the course of a conversation with a woman I’ve worked for several times, me blathering on with stories, attempting to be clever if not amusing, my client, a few years younger than I am, said people younger than she and I do not understand sarcasm; that it’s dead.

“Replaced by what? Like, awkward situation humor?” “Maybe.”

“Well. Sarcasm is kind of, sometimes, mean spirited, BUT…”

Whoa! I thinkj I might need some therapy, or an intervention. I’ve pretty much been sarcastic as long as I remember, and, so far, no one has physically kicked my ass. Figuratively, yes; I have worked with masters of the craft of verbal repartee/battle; some of whom didn’t stop when the other participant surrendered.

That is, of course, wrong.

Now, I have said things like, “You win. I’m utterly destroyed by your superior putdowns.” It was a ploy. I didn’t mean it.

Occasionally I write something kind of snarky. Frequently I use sarcasm. Habit. If I say being passive aggressive is a defense strategy, I would be denying the times I’ve said mean things, said I was joking. Trisha’s response to this, on one occasion, was, “No, you always mean it; you’re an asshole, and you’re never sorry.” “Oh,” I said, “I am sorry; and anyway, if you say I’m passive aggressive, what about you? I mean…” “No. I’m not passive aggressive; I’m regular aggressive.” “You win,” I said. “I love you.” I mean both these things.

Here is a piece that may or may not contain sarcasm: Or, maybe I don’t really understand sarcasm.

Or the Midnight Amaretto

You dropped two dollars in the tip jar with an offhand, “I love you,” So casual, so smooth. The Barista smiled and said, “Oh, yeah?” Then, “Sure; okay… love you, too.” You winked. At me. I shrugged… at you. “Casual,” I said. “Smooth.”

You turned to the woman who’d given you her place in line, And asked, politely, if she had used the time to finally decide. The woman said, “I haven’t, so I guess the House Blend’s fine. Or, no, I’ll have half decaf, and half Valdez Valley’s Pride.” “Juan Valdez,” you said. “Classic allusion.”

The woman looked to me for reassurance, or, maybe, an explanation. She said, “I bought a house nearby, when I came here on vacation.” “I can’t help with your selection, Ma’am, I’m an artisanal ‘fail,’ I make my own, at home, most days, it’s ‘whatever is on Sale.’” “Like Maxwell House,” you said, nodding.

“I’ll take a half ‘Midnight Amaretto’, Love” you said, stepping in, “And half ‘Pirate Captain’s Blend.’ You well know I’d get a dipped biscotti if I had more cash to spend.” “Well know,” the Barista said. “Of course.”

The Barista, quite attractive, as Baristas tend to be, Looked around the crowded shop, tourists and regulars… a few dogs, She leaned in close to me. “You should ‘well’ know,” she said, “folks are serious here, you could just play the game. But…” and this she whispered, “To me, and please, keep my secret, All coffee’s pretty much the same. If I add whipped cream and chocolate, though it’d prefer whiskey or rum, I can put up with fake compliments and with those from whom they come.” “From whom they come,” I said. “Well said.”

She pulled back her hair, and I, undoubtedly blushing, Whispered, “I work for some of these same folks, I get it, the game and all, but I really must be rushing. So, I’ll have a dipped biscotti, please.” I leaned away and added, “And one for my old friend, And I’ll have whichever’s the larger size of the ‘Pirate Captain’s Blend.’”

The Barista said, “Then you’ll need whipped cream and chocolate, And may I recommend a double?” I said, “I’d prefer vodka, thank you, and I hope it’s not too much trouble.” “Not at all, Sir,” she said. “My pleasure.”

My friend and his new friend, Half Decaf, seemed curious or, maybe, jealous, I gave the new neighbor, Half Decaf, my biscotti when she said, “She whispered something… the Barista; don’t you think that you should tell us?” “Please don’t ask,” I said. “It’s… a secret.”

“Hey, man,” I said, “I’m heading out,” one foot pushing on the door, “I’m going to hang a while,” you said, “Have a good day,” And “Love you.” What I could have said was, “Sure, man… love you more.” Smiling appropriately, in keeping with the ambient ambiance, I said, instead, “Thanks for the invite, my… friend,” While stirring the double shot of chocolate, ethically sourced, The swirling foam, on the largest size, of my Pirate Captain’s Blend.

THE END

The original story and, I guess, all original (as in, by me) realsurfers.net content is copyrighted material, all rights reserved by the author/illustrator, Erwin A. Dence, Jr. If you want to use it, drop a line, erwin@realsurfers.net

Thanks to all who check out realsurfers. If you surf, good luck; if you don’t, today’s a perfect day to continue not surfing. It’s frustrating, crowded, and many surfers are, I must say, honestly, rather rude and possibly sarcastic individuals. DAMN, shouldn’t have said that; we all want to be individuals… together.