Yeah, I am still working on it. Possibly the only advantage of taking so damn long on the novel is that new things come to me, little details I can inject into the story. Here’s one I haven’t added. Yet: A somewhat crazed guy hanging out every evening at sunset talks to Joey with some wild and poetic descriptions. If Joey seems insufficiently impressed, it might be a worthwhile addition to have him mention this.
I will get back to this when I get the image (copyright protected) reversed, black to white. This doesn’t mean I won’t make other changes. In fact, that’s guaranteed. See you!
UPDATES- NONE at the moment- Saturday, July 18.BUT…
Skip Frye and I, Skip Frye and Me- Several Anecdotes
INTRO-
A sudden, not-going-to-last obsession with classic surfer Skip Frye was triggered by an episode of “Pinch my Salt” showing up on YouTube. I’m fine watching a snippet of the pretty smarmy Sterling Spencer, but I’m never ready to spend an hour plus watching… anyone. This is what fast forward is for.
This episode promised an interview with Skip; but it did start without him. So, fast forward; though I had to watch a portion where Sterling claimed someone ‘picked his pocket.’ It turned out to be a not unusual ‘chat and steal.’ One of my standard moves. Or so I’ve been told.
Then, on to the interview. If someone personifies an eighty-three-year-old lifetime (not Skip’s, probably yours) San Diego surfer, no one better fills the role than Mr. Frye. The hosts were respectful, though Skip was pushed to say something negative about soft tops (he said someone gave him one, but he’d never ride it), surfers who put their names on popouts (almost did because Donald Takayama wanted him to make some real money, but died before it might, or might not have happened), and modern surfing competition, the toughest and truest thing he would say, though he did contests, is that the one winner ruthlessness takes something away from what is often referred to as soul surfing.
Skip, who tries to turn out six boards a week, none cheap, all highly sought after, is still the epitome of soul. Surfing or otherwise.
The other guy on the podcast, Sterling’s cousin Ryan Spencer, asked the viewers to pleas be nice to Skip in the comments. I checked. Not a negative comment in the bunch, and, when Skip pulled out a harmonica at the end and played a mellow version of, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” well, people broke into tears. Or so they said.
TAMARACK, 1965-
My family (seven kids, our mom) was parked in the lower lot, as always. I was a total beginner/kook, just switching over from mat to board. I was probably still sharing my older sister’s (Suellen’s) 9’4” stock Hobie. There had been some sort of contest. Surfers and their entourages were loading up, ready to head home. “Skip was robbed!” “Skip should’ve won!”
I have this image, real or not, in my permanent files: A blond-haired guy shrugging off the comments meant to reassure him.
PACIFIC BEACH, SAN DIEGO- 1971-1973- Later. I gotta go. But, coming… STEALING a design from TOM MOREY, surfing from Tourmaline to Crystal Pier ala Skip, finding nuggets in a crowded lineup, soul arching, ala Skip, just for the fun of it.
The Morey-Pope WATERSKATE, produced by Gordon & Smith; probably shaped by SKIP FRYE.
ULTRA CLASSIC TRIO- Photo by RON STONER, MICHAEL HYNSON paddling out, and SKIP (never not in trim) SKIP FRYE soul arching at THE RANCH.
I want to stress that I have been doing some research on this stuff. I have always been intrigued by the Hynson/Frye friendship, partially because they seem like such different individuals. If I give Hynson a lot of credit for downrail surfboards, prove me wrong. It was interesting to learn, from the podcast, that they were riding boards Michael had shaped for the 1966 Duke Kahanamoku contest. Cool.
I have some new stuff on PAGE VII, ‘”Erwin Talks to Strangers,” and on PAGE VIII, “Love Songs for Cynics.” I’m doing this as a new post, but will probably move these drawings to Page VIII later.
If I stop writing new material and re-re-re-editing older pieces, I have enough for a book. I need to look through my collection (not that there’s any real organization) of illustrations to find work that goes along with the songs and essays and… And, problem is so much is surf related and/or landscape rather than portrait, format-wise.
MEANWHILE, I ENJOY doing these border things and… I enjoy drawing. YEAH.
AND, more meanwhile, life continues to provide more material. Jeez, an annoying splotch on my. scanner. That isn’t a metaphor. No, ‘course it is. Get some surf. Keep your secret spots secret. Thanks for checking out my site.
The photographer, abovve, some of her work, below.
I am writing something about how addictive INSTAGRAM is, but, while scrolling (and, can’t help it), and (occasionally) commenting, I came across some incredible photographs of the open ocean; the chaos and the power and the beauty, taken by Rachael Talibart. I HAD to comment. The first comment on a collection of black and white images, which I self-borrowed from a possibly edited-out quote from Ruth DeFreines in my novel, “SWAMIS,” (note the self promotion here- not there) was, “Our minds fill in the colors.” It got a like/heart (part of the addictiveness).
I, of course, had already hit ‘Follow,’ so I got more posts from @rachaeltalibart. I sent a comment saying I would love to include some of her work on my HUMBLE (not by design) blog, and she ‘replied’ it was fine if I include a working link to her website.
This linking is tough for me. I will get my daughter, Dru, to assist.
What interests me is figuring out what kind of person chases storms to capture the previously mentioned power and chaos and beauty, the source of what surfers seek, groomed-out and organized, of course. NOT a lot of bio stuff readily available. Rachael lives in the south of England, gets seasick, and takes on extreme weather so folks can look at the images (she has a book, “Sirens) in comfort, perhaps with one of them as a sort of window, framed and hanging in a formal room.
Anyway, thank you, Rachael. Heart/like.
Meanwhile, I’m getting my works together and planning on having Dru help with the formatting, pre-publishing stuff for my upcoming (I promise) collection, “Love Songs for Cynics.”
I do have some newly added Original Erwin additions on my other pages (nothing on the political or religious front at the moment), so check that out if you get a chance. Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net, Instagram- realsurfersdotnet. AND thanks, as always, for spending. a little time at my humble (not by design) site. GET SOME WAVES!
UPDATE- July 6- ANNOUNCEMENT! PAGE VII has been added. It is focused on my upcoming collection, “LOVE SONGS FOR CYNICS.” Check it out.
UPDATE- July 4, 2026- 2:12 PACIFIC DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME
I just posted something on PAGE III. Check it out if you get a chance. This image is a clue.
I have, according to my phone used up all the storage for the ‘gallery.’ What this seems to mean is that I cannot film myself playing harmonica and singing original songs. SO, there goes my Instagram career hopes. I recorded two versions of my song, “Soft Persuasion,” which has a particular relevance on the day before the Fourth of July. In one, the harmonica sounds screechy and my voice sounds… kind of like it usually does; nasal-ly, flat…whatever. The second one, recorded by a local lake with the phone in the back of the Toyota, has me and the harmonica sounding okay, but, possibly because of the angle (SURE), I look, in an oversized white t shirt, well, fat. Not that I’m not. And my hair… awful.
So, I deleted all of the videos on my. phone, but, maybe because the trash section is full, no storage.
Anyway, I have been working on formatting a collection of poems and essays and songs. I do enjoy this. I’m pretty close to having “Love Songs for Cynics” ready. Because poetry is so… fancy, I plan a separate and definitely not equal section for ‘Down and Dirty Blues’ songs. This is more a ballad. Fiction, actually, with an opportunity to throw out some non-political Independence Day references. Here goes:
You offered me such SOFT PERSUASION, on the night before the fourth of July, Began as such a festive occasion, you held me close, I never asked you why,
I went off just like a Roman candle, I’m sure the light lit up half of the night, But love, that’s something we could never handle, True love’s one thing that we can’t get quite right.
(Chorus). Misunderstanding, misunderstood; I thought that we could make it happen, Now I see it ain’t no good; Misunderstanding, I got it wrong; You took the words that I has written, and wrote yourself another song.
You said it’s just a misunderstanding, said you’d never meant to lead me along; You hoped I’d have a really soft landing; You wrote down all the words to my last song.
All in all, you treated me quite kindly, You said there were some things you should explain; I had rushed in way way way too blindly; And love’s that blind can only bring one pain.
Chorus
“Some things,” you said, “Are best left unspoken,” Some things I said I never should have said; Some spells, once cast, should never be broken; some love’s not in your heart, it’s in your head.
But you’d already. heard my. confession, There is no other woman I think of; “Sometimes,” you said, “love’s really obsession;” Well, sometimes, what we think is love is love.
Chorus
I walked into the teeth of the morning; Where firecrackers popped and fuses burned; I had been knocked down without a warning; I couldn’t put in words what I had learned.
All I knew is I had never known you; And everything I thought was right was wrong; Didn’t know, from there, where I could go to; Couldn’t find a tune for my new song.
Misunderstanding, misunderstood; I thought that we could make it happen; Now I see it ain’t no good; Misunderstanding, you got it wrong; You took the words that I had written, but now I have another song.
I have been updating my artwork; check out. PAGE VII.
ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED ON ALL ORIGINAL writing and artwork on this site by Erwin A. Dence, jr. Thanks for honoring my copyrights.
AS ALWAYS, THANKS for checking in and checking my humble blog out, GET SOME WAVES, AND, PLEASE, CELEBRATE! Happy Birthday, America, and good luck to us all!
Real Surfers 