Category Archives: old surfers

Pros Chase Olympic Peninsula swells, and…

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, surfing Oceanside in the late 1960s,, writings of Erwin Dence

…Reggie goes viral.

UPDATE- WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 11-VETERANS DAY

I’ve added a new chapter to the “Swamis” I’m sharing on PAGE IV. CHECK IT OUT!

You must have heard about the big swell heading for and hitting the northwest coast last week. If not… hmmmm. Let’s make a distinction here: The coast, or “West End” to anyone who did hear about the first 20 foot plus swell in quite some time knows the area, roughly between Westport and Neah Bay, is not the same as the Strait of Juan de Fuca, though there is some crossover claiming. This is mostly based on how ar a surer from, say, Port Angeles, would be eager and willing to drive to given the given that there is rarely any real surf on the Strait. Maybe Canada. They won’t admit it.

Another difference is that I don’t feel the samme way about blowing up spots on the coast. Or, second thought, maybe I do.

Speaking of second thoughts, here’s a shot, used with permission, of REGGIE SMART and LIL’ TONY (only name I’ve been given) reconsidering going out at an unnamed (by me) spot on the Coast.

“No, Lil’ Tony, this is a lull.”

WHAT I AM NOT SHOWING- YET: Along with gawkers and storm chasers, oh, and potential ffolks who claim to like overhead conditions, there were pro level surfers with camera crews, who weaved through the downed trees and flat alleged surf spots to challenge the surf. videos should be showing up soon, after editing, music and AI content added: BUT, making the rounds from Reggie to friends (me, so far, and others), then to friends of friends, and then to… shit, mmaybe you’ve already seen it… Reggie got a killer photo of a pro-level ripper slotted on a black, killer-level wave the background stormy black. Very dramatic!

I will ask permission on that one, BUT, what you didn’t get is Reggie’s first hand account. Paraphrased. “He was pretty slick; knew what he was doing. He’d go to take off, then he’d look to see if it was going to close out. Most of them did. If so, he’d back off. On this one… I was next to the camera crew… I zoomed in. He took off, dropped in, pretty much in the barrel. When it started closing out, he pulled a big turn, like, straight up, pushed through the back and paddled back out.”

“Impressive.” “Yeah, I was impressed.” There were other tales of rippers ripping, camera crews focusing, gawkers gawking.

MEANWHILE, on the US side of the Strait, bobbers are bobbing, and tourists are touring; folks are doing yoga on SUPs, cold plungers are plunging, and hopeful surfers are waiting, sharing tales in the parking lot, and going over cell phone photos from friends of friends of friends. ” Where’d you get that?” “Can’t say.” “Or won’t” “Or won’t.” “Or won’t.”

ON THE BEACH- I talked recently with two surfers from the North San Diego County area where I was raised, and where I started surfing. One was from Encinitas, where Trish and I lied in the mmmid 1970s, the other from Oceanside, closest beach from Fallbrook, and where I worked for two-and-a-half years (1969-71).

The first guy, Eli, was born in 1980. He may as well have been talking about a different planet; the landmarks were the same (Swamis, Pipes, Grandview, etc), but the 29 year age difference between us very apparent, probably more to him. “No, that wasn’t a spot. There were no named spots between Beacons and Moonlight; and that wasn’t really a serious spot.” “Stone Steps.” “Oh, yeah, Stone Steps.”

Gene was raised in Oceanside, graduated in 1970. Trish was in that class, gaduated from Fallbrook, but had been in Junior High in O’side, was a friend of Barbie Barron. “Oh, yeah, I knew Barbie.” “I’d see her at the little jetty, talking with the guys. Didn’t really think that she was checking it out before school while I was there before work. Trish was in the Oceanside Girls’ Surf Club Barbie started. Trisha’s dad was in the Marine Corps. They moved to philadelphia. Then… Anyway, great time to be in Oceanside for a kid.” “Yeah. You lived in Fallbrook and drove to work” “It was twenty miles.” “Oh. Only time we went there was… looking for chicks.” “Yeah; or avocados.”

Next time I see Gene, maybe we’ll talk about avocados (not a code for marijuana, necessarily). I might mention, next time I talk to Eli, that we bought our house in Encinitas for forty thousand. Different world. Maybe thirty surfers out at Swamis wasn’t as crowded as it would get.

Different times diffferent places; in the water, we’re all hunting for pretty much the same thing. Hope surfing gives you what you’re seeking.

“LOVE SONGS FOR CYNICS is at the printers; samples coming soon. I am planning on doing a public event to promote the book, and will update you on the schedule. I am using thhe in-between time in the northwest’s rainiest month to, hopefully, get ‘SWAMIS’ ready for publication. Check back later, or check out realsurfersdotnet on the Instagram.

I should pimp/sell out Reggie- I think you can find REGGIE SMART on the gram. Maybe he’ll post that photo.

My Almost Published Book

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

This is the back page. It was designed by my editor and collaborator, Jim Allred. He wrote the copy. I am very appreciative of Jim’s help, particularly his push to get everything Proofed, formatted, and off to a printer.

ere are some surf-centric songs in this collection, some hard core blues lyrics, a couple of sarcastic pieces. Some, perhaps, heart-warming… no, not so much. I’m planning on doing some public readings, promising to try not to sing,

Maybe you’ve heard rumors of surf. Yeah, but the stories of trees down and adverse winds are real. I have to go. Work. Work, can’t reveal where, but somewhere close to the water.

I’m BIG in China and Wondering Why

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, gopro shots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf culture, writings of Erwin Dence

FIRST- I did go surfing recently, as in, possibly, today, a Saturday, and, before you ask; yes, it was crowded. It’s a Saturday! There was a search for view parking, and no handicapped spots out in the wilds; I had to invoke Costco rules, along with a Costco smile, when, circling, I hit the turn signals, pulled as close as I could to the van whose driver either super dawn patrolled or gave up, and snagged a front row spot. Yes, I squeezed up snuggly close to some dude’s SUV, allowing almost enough room for another, similar sized rig to share the thrill of looking out, directly, at an overcrowded lineup. Weekend Warriors and never-seem-to-work thirty-somethings, some of them couples, on dates. Wow!

Wow as in I should write about the first date Trish and I had, November 10, 1969. I took her to a then 2nd tier spot, allowing her the opportunity to watch me surf uncrowded waves, on to Grandview with a view from the bluff (at least two surfers tried to ‘make time’ with her, then on to gourmet food at the new Jack in the Box.

Yes, she has, mostly, gotten over the thrill of watching me.

And then, back to today, there were the older folks, some of them there, perhaps, to coach younger rippers-to-be. I was particularly interested in the guy with the straps over his wetsuit, there to hold his camera. Go pro, man! I did see him in the lineup. Hopefully he got some good shots of more than the deck of his board.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have some of the “know before you go” stuff going on. Not Surfline, which may have predicted head high bommmbs (didn’t happen), but friend of a friend stuff (allowed if the report is mostly a negative), but I was almost there when I got the news. Two fewer surfers in the water, few waves in the mid thigh range. Mid calf.

NOW, I got to go spend time surfing because TRISH is, finally, getting better. Better is relative, but part of what I take for truth is that she now realizes how close she was to (I hesitate to type this, and I’ve been equally hesitant to admit it) dying. SO, Yay! and Fuck Cancer!

I should note that, out of the water for several months, my first concern was that I would suck. I didn’t rip; didn’t suck; so, success! I did have two ugly attempts at getting back to shore. Normal. I’m kinda old, my knees seem older. 3.5 for the landing. 3.75 from the Canadian judge.

POST SURF REVIEW- I spoke with several friends about my adventure (and every session is), and the argument of crowds ruining sessions came up. The counter is surfers retelling tales of surfing quality waves alone, or with a few friends. Yeah; hang onto those. I do. OH, I did ask a woman parked near me if she got enough waves. She held up one finger. No, different finger. “Hope it was a good one.” “Wave of the day!” “Yay!

I did ask another woman, thinking I recognized her as the one who claims to have once grabbed my leash, if her oversized sprinter van was big enough. I didn’t hear what she responded with, but she may have raised one finger. ” Yeah, wave of the day!”

CHINA ISSUE- WORDPRESS keeps track, and I get a lot of hits, too many, from China. I can’t help but imagine that their Commie AI wants to decipher my writing style, possibly to duplicate it to infiltrate America, and then world surf literature. Joke’s on them. I could explain, but, meanwhile, I’m not unhappy to get semi-successful numbers.

Yes, I’m totally exaggerating, though I did have a guy in the lineup tell me he reads realsurfers. “Oh, you’re the one. Thanks. I’m popular in China.” “Cool. You had a lot of drop-ins.” “Yeah. People recognize a decent wave when I’m on it.” “China, huh?”

MEANWHILE, enjoy whatever surf adventure you’re on. If some old cruster gets a parking spot or a wave you wanted, well, part of your story. Costco rules apply.

JIM ALLRED is helping me put together a book of my work, “Love Songs for Cynics.” I have to come up with artwork (I have lots). I’ll keep you, and China, updated.

“SWAMIS,” my novel, is… still… almost… totally… done.

erwin@realsurfers.net realsurfersdotnet on Instagram

NOTE- I almost posted a photo that showed a part of the coastline on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Lovely sunset, no waves, but, still, if it fell into the wrong hands…

the next time I surf…

Posted on by under "New Yorker" cartoon submissions, Erwin Dence Cartoons, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, Original Erwin, real surfers, realsurfers illustrations, writings of Erwin Dence

…I plan on wailing.

As I always plan on… wailing.

I just got to January of 2017 in posting most (not all) of my illustrations posted on realsurfers, starting at 2013, heading toward now. Maybe because I hit the last fourth of a century tomorrow, I thought I might put this back up. Although my own pen-and-ink drawing style was most inspired by work by RICK GRIFFIN, it has been more often compared to drawings by R. Crumb.

Yes, I was trying to break into the rarified company of NEW YORKER cartoonists. It didn’t work. Their loss. It took some some sleuthing to get an address, some nerve to make the request. I was an am pretty dang (could have said ‘fuckin”) stoked that I got a positive, and properly sardonic response.

Thanks, Robert Crumb.

“Yes, there’s “in” someone’s pocket, and “IN someone’s pocket.”

No, I don’t get it; hhoped the New Yorker snobs would. Their loss; oh, and perhaps this was my ‘green period’ of black and white pen and ink.

erwin@realsurfers.net

realsurfersdotnet on Instagram.

If you’re planning on surfing, always plan on wailing!

All original illustrations and other original content protected by copyright, all rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr. Thanks!

SUMMERTIME, AND THHE LIVING IS…

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

EASY? Maybe. Sometimes summertime is busy; I have a lot going on. I’m sure you do, also. Part of my frustration is just trying to get some of my work (real job, painting contractor in the limited season in the Great Northwest) done. More work, less time… frustrating. Not haviing the tine to go into detail here, writing being one of my joys (surfing- yes and no, no time to go all the way to the coast.

Dru and I have been trying to take care of Trish during her sloooow recovery from the aftereffects of chemo and radiation. Trish has turned a corner; she’s getting stronger; less chemo fog; but she is still limited in mobility. She can’t be left alone for extended periods. And shouldn’t be.

While I’m trying to finish jobs, Dru is in the middle of the CONCERT season for the OLYMPIC MUSIC FESTIVAL. Not sure what her official title in running the non-music part of the non-profit is, but… Example- She worked until 11:30 PM last night, and had to be back in Port Townsend by 7:50 AM to open the WHEELER THEATRE at FORT WORDEN for the piano tuner. Concert this afternoon. Paper work until… Same schedule tomorrow.

Some of the musical activities take place at ARCADIA, just out of town. This is one of few remaining serigraphs I did of the venue, back in the late 1980s. I found it and some other prints in the attic a few years ago. I’m posting it here so Dru can show… whoever.

I have to go. Hope you’re surfing, hanging, bobbing in the water; enjoying summer.

I will update from the tablet. Later. Oh, and it’s my birthday on Monday. 40th anniversary of turning 35.

Them There Awful CALIFORNIANS

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, Port townsend surfing, real surfers, surf satire, writings of Erwin Dence

SATURDAY UPDATE: Not all writers and/or artists are anal retentive. Some might be the opposite (anal explosive, I’ve been told- kind of believe it). And while I’m thinking about it, the opposite of PHALLIC symbolism in art and architecture and billionaires’ private spacecraft; and I have noticed this in art and in “Lord of the Rings,” is, I’m informed, by various sources on the internet, YONIC. References the womb. I didn’t get too investigative. Okay, but, years ago, an artist whose work was totally not phallic, told me it was VAGINAL. All this time, I was fine with that.

All that aside, my stuff, particularly on PAGE III, Serious Writing, is mostly written on-site rather than on Microsoft Word, and even if it originally was, I can’t help going back over it, refining, editing. YES, this explains something about my novel, “SWAMIS,” the anal retentive part being how difficult it is to delete something that I believe is kind of decent.

I have a new piece, part of my occasional dream diaries, and I’ve made changes to two pieces on PAGE III: “Between the Walls of Trees,” a short short story, and “Into the Void,” a poem/song. Since I’m stuck on differences, I usually develop songs while driving; repeating one verse, adding others in. Because of this process, I remember the words better than something I write on the computer. BUT THEN, I want the piece to make sense and have a certain flow. Retentive.

Update complete for now.

SEVERAL FRIENDS hepped me to this; it’s a screen grab from this guy, R. Jesus Delacruz (translates to ‘of the cruz’), evidently talking some shit about Port Townsend folks. Not that I don’t. Nothing too serious from me. But, yes, folks selling a mid-priced hone in CA and buying a McMansion here is kind of erksome.

Not sure if he focused on me, or if I was just part of a pan, left or right, but…this was taken at the SAVE THE WAVES event in which a short film, “ERWIN” (available for viewing on the ‘about’ page), was being aired as part of a worldwide tour.

Doesn’t mean I am not from California. I AM A REFUGEE. Of sorts. Sold a house in San Diego in 1978, moved to Quilcene. Two of my three children were born in Port Townsend. Not sure when or where Mr. Delacruz was born, and don’t care.

ALSO, while trying to shed any vestiges of my California-ness, I’m not trying to get him more coverage.

Got to go. Work to do in Port Townsend for folks who are from somewhere else, but not from California. No, no; again; don’t care.

erwin@realsurfers.net

Occasionally I post on Instagram. More often I comment on other people’s posts. Can’t help it. Need counseling. It’s just… putting emojis isn’t, like, much more meaningful than hitting the heart symbol. It’s realsurfersdotnet.

Great weekend for hanging on the beach, any beach, trying to will a swell. Good luck, and thanks for checking out my humbled blog.

Borders and Chapter Page and…

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

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.

For The Complaint Department, Go To: Helen Waite

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, hipster surfers, learning to surf, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, real surfers coloring book, Seattle surfers, surf adventures, surf sessions, surfing blogs, surfing in Washington State, surfing Neah Bay, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, women surfers in the Northwest,, writings of Erwin Dence

I was working in Port Angeles all week, never had (or gave myself) a chance to even check out the surf; but, then, wait for it (I have), I went. Yeah, I joined the seeming caravan of time-offers and weekenders and vacationers headed toward the Olympic Peninsula, home to the Olympic Mountains, named, appropriately, after the mythical home of the mythical gods. It’s like… Nirvana, with a different lineup (do I have to add ‘not the bend? Probably). Yeah, and there’s, like forests and… lakes, and… It is enticing, entrancing, inviting those stuck on I-5 to drive however many hours to get here. And the weather has just been so… Southern California-ISH. Not that I’m complaining.

This was a side project. I was painting an ADU on the Port Angeles property. Someone else cut out the trees a while back. The homeowner, who has a lot off artsy stuff going on, gave me free reign. Thanks.

The job done, I traded ladders for a thrashed out board, and headed back north. It’s not that I want to share the road OR the waves. Dawn patrolling might help. Still, I worry. I am still trying to get past a severe thrashing from mid-winter, and have had few opportunities to rebuild my. confidence. What if, I was thinking on the way up Surf Route 101, it’s closed out and crowded and… ?And then, when I arrived… no worries; no ‘got to go NOW’ conditions. Barely breaking. It was a ‘it might get better’ situation, so, normal. Not crowded… yet. No side wind. Yet. I took my time, chatted with PA locals, Bill Truckenmueller (sp?) and his son, who talked about how the day before was better, and never got out of their van, and told me they were leaving as a sacrifice to the swell gods. “Thanks. I’ll let you know what you missed next time I see you.”

Parked in my favorite spot was THOR. I’ve surfed with him quite a few over the years. He said the previous day started similarly weak and inconsistent, and got better. The last time I saw Thor was at the Lower Elwha gas station. He had just suffered a serious injury. He’s fully recovered now. I filled him in on what is happening with me. I did, because I do, mention this blog. “You. mean your personal complaint department?” ‘Huh? What? Um, yeah.”

Still taking my sweet time getting suited up, a rig pulled up next to me, two young (relatively) men jumped out, instantly started putting fins on their fancy wood boards. Just making conversation, because ERWIN TALKS TO STRANGERS, I mentioned their parking gave themselves plenty of room, but they could have parked closer, allowing the next folks room. “No.” Okay. No disagreeing. I asked one of them how long he’d been surfing. “A while.” “Oh. Did you, like, start during Covid?” “Give me a break.” “Okay, so… adult learner. Surf school.” No answer. “It’s pretty flat. Hobuck’s probably big. Maybe you should go there.” The other guy came around the corner, turning his Patagonia wetsuit rightsideout while doing modified squats. “Why don’t you go, then?” “Too far. Too scary.” “Sure.” Possible sarcasm. “Um, where’d you, if I might ask, come from?” No answer. “I live in Quilcene. It’s down the canal.” “Okay. Sure.” Somewhere it was revealed they were from Kirkland. “Might be bigger there,” one of the Kirkland dudes said before he raced his friend toward the water.

It’s fine that, when flipping friendly-ish shit, some gets flipped back. The test of surfing is in the water. By the time I got out, there were five or six other surfers out. Long boards. I took off on a wave, not believing (or looking) behind me. “Hey!” A guy on a green longboard, who wasn’t on the wave, yelled, “You have to look. That’s it! You get. one. drop-in!” He paddled out. I paddled out. He back paddled me. Evidently backpaddling was acceptable. Fine. Game on!

I don’t mean to overdramatize this; not high tension. Just, with not-great waves, kind of unnecessary.

There were some other ‘your wave, my wave’ things happening over the course of the session, but I didn’t have any other disputes with the unofficial regulator. He did continue to backpaddle, I played my game, managed to get some rides I was really happy with. Meanwhile, the Kirkland guys did not dominate. The lineup had the usual small day ratio of beginners to experienced surfers, and I noticed several of the guys in the water looked… similar. We all want to identify who, in the water, is going to blow a takeofff, who is a bit too aggressive; all of which helps us catch more waves and stay out of trouble. Maybe. Plus, it’s not cool to stare at your. competition. Or talk too much.

None of these societal restraints kept me from paddling over and making a comment to the large (not that I’m small) woman with a bright red, full-brimmed hat on. It seemed, not staring, that it was attached to a hood. Maybe it just had a very practical chin strap. “You’re doing your best to avoid cancer,” I said. “I’m trying.” She took off on a wave, went straight, and two other women, with similar hats, about to paddle out, hooted, wildly, as if their friend had won the contest. Perhaps she had. We are all competing in our minds. Aren’t we?

I managed to outlast the green board enforcer, but he did paddle out next to Thor, and, possibly because Thor was, my assessment, the best surfer out at this time, engaged him in conversation. I mentioned that when the waves dropped back to minimal as the tide drained out. “Yeah, I told him you’re old, you have really bad knees, your wife is battling cancer, and you should give you a break.” “Thanks, Thor, but… about those two times you burned me…” “Oh, one was for the guy you burned, and the other… It was my one free burn.” Fair. Enough.

I had to take this photo. The guy sat there a while, looking like Rodin’s “The Thinker.” I asked if he was thinbking, “Damn, should have gotten here earlier.” “No, I was thinking… maybe it’ll get better.” Eventually. Yes.

Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net

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Thanks; catch some waves when you can, limit your dropins, backpaddle at will, keep it friendly, keep it fun. But, FUCK CANCER!

Oh, shit! I forgot. I do have some new ORIGINAL ERWIN illustrations. I will post them soon.

Summer Approaches, and with it…

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

…traffic. Now, I love the vview from the Hood Canal Bridge as much as anyone, and, though I am grateful I no longer commute regularly to the other side, I may have a bit o an issue when, trying to get back, I am 13th in line for a bridge closure to allow a sailboat to get back to the north side. And then, under power, the sightseer takes his or her sweet time getting through the opening (Yeah, for tourists, the floating bridge is open when it’s closed and closed when it’s open).

Meanwhile, cars and busses and Walmart semis and Amazon delivery vans and tourists and I are waiting. I shut the engine off (many didn’t), called Trish, and said I really wanted to get close enough to yell at the sailer, not that I, even with my lost at sea. voice, could. “No, no, don’t do that!”

Okay, but, maybe, there should be a… dealie; like, if you’re enoying the splendors of the wilder lower canal (for tourists, it isn’t a canal; there’s an end. Waterway cul-de-sac), you should stay until… I don’t know, not Monday morning when workers need to get to jobs.

I guess one brighter side is that I was on the bridge, and not stuck behind a tour bus-sized motorhome pulling a Mad Max rig, that rig holding the electric bikes and Kayaks, and, worse, surfboards. I was packing ladders, so… that might make me a tiny bit jealous. Maybe.

Meanwhile, I finally posted a Dylan 85th birthday video I filmed a couple of weeks ago. Find it on the gram at realsurfersdotnet. Like, comment, follow. Not mandatory. I’ve spent too much time scrolling and commenting; sniping and attempting cleverness. It’s not (for tourists) real life.

Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net

“SWAMIS” note- I keep thinking about subtle changes to my otherwise done novel. Because I am also trying to keep a bit of a journal on some dreams, I went to sleep in that ‘one more hour’ portion of the night/dawn considering the real life location in which I have fictional character Julie Cole living. It is across Highway 101 and the railroad tracks, up the hill, and offers a view of the entrance to the Swamis parking lot and a chance to see swells approaching. In 1969, the time in which the story is set, there was still a pullout adjacent to the park. Houses now.

In this dream, I am on that hill. I see waves, surfers. I tell Trish I have to go. Now. Now! I’m running down through the scrub brush, onto the gravel, across the tracks, and… I did warn you that it was a dream. I mean, me, running.

In real life, the last time I surfed Pipes, I did park up and above the tracks. I didn’t run.

NOTE- Dreaming about surfing is not a replacement for surfing. Following every real surfer on Instagram, also not a replacement. Still… part of surfing is imagining oneself… surfing. The harder part is getting there, getting out, getting in position, paddling… That.

Thanks for checking out realsurfers. If you can’t be perfect, be real.

Submission Drama

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, Original Erwin, writings of Erwin Dence

I have done a few drawings lately. I need to get them to a print shop to reduce the size to work with my printer/scanner. At least one drawing is for a potential Original Erwin coloring book. Several are for a potential collection of poems and essays, “Love Songs or Cynics.” To that end, I contacted Port Townsend’s new Poet Laureate, and got her permission to send her some samples of my writing. The goal, for me, is to get some traction within the communty of serious writers.

Traction? Serious writing? What the fuck do I know about any of this? “Swamis” is done. This version. I haven’t looked at in a while; and I keep thinking about little changes I should make to make it better. Sellable. Marketable.

I am, meanwhile, trying to process not making the top three finalists among 17 submissions for a mural project at the Seamus Skate Park in Port Townsend. I wanted the opportunity. There is a ridiculous amount of money involved. For artists, almost all of whom paint and draw for little or no money, little or no recognition, so much of what is produced getting a quick glance, maybe a nod, this is a rare offer.

There’s a story of what was required in the submission process. To this point, the emphasis was not on ideas and visuals for the murals but on experience in doing this type of work. I believed, or wanted to believe, that 57 years (as of yesterday) as a professional sign painter, regular painter, might help. But, not having initially read the entire requirement page, I went full on into thinking about possibilities, doing sketches. Then, with so much help from my daughter, Dru, I worked on my resume’.

Again, processing; I got the email late last night. So, whining. Apologies. Submissions. Submitting, by definition, means you are being judged, that you have no control. No, it comes down to what is being judged. Part of the deal. Not good enough. Not what the deciders are looking for.

So?

So… I have to go. There’s a house to paint. I submitted a proposal, as I do, and, yeah, I got another job.

I’ll get some new stuff on here. Soon. Thanks for checking out realsurfers.net

Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net

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