I have been too busy to do work on my latest (theoretically/optimisticly finished) rewrite of my novel. OR it has been low on my priority list. HOWEVER AND ALWAYS, thoughts about it pop up. This needs more, this less. One thought that recurs is that my first chapter is, possibly, too cool. I claim to hate cuteness and too-cuteness; but there it is. Dialogue without stage direction I insist is enough.
SO, I may cut it out entirely. NO, NO, not that; I will move it to CHAPTER IV as an alternative.
Check it out. Thanks. Is today, or is every day INTERNATIONAL SURFING DAY?
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.
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
I DO HAVE surfing related content to post, but I’ve other things going on that push this stuff back a ways. As do we all. Other stuff, like real life. Trish has had a terrible time recovering from chemo and radiation, and has been in the hospital for almost a week. Weight loss, low blood pressure, some sort of infection, it’s all been quite overwhelming.
THE THING ABOUT much of life is that there are, yes, those moments in which something happens suddenly; car accidents for example; but most things happen in much slower motion. Sometimes painfully slow motion. Hair loss is one example (not the best if you consider chemo), but all the indignities dealt us in the aging process. AND THERE are the many problems and issues we cannot fix. ourselves, even with YouTube video help: Car repair. Cancer. AND THERE is the (almost) guilt we feel when we can do so little to help others, this hopelessness (if I haven’t mentioned this emotion yet), the ‘almost’ hopelessness and guilt when we’re talking about people we don’t know, or don’t know well, the feelings multiplied when it’s someone we love.
I I’M COMPLAINING, and I am, I am also aware it’s not about me. It’s about TRISH, someone I’ve known and loved for almost 58 years; someone who doesn’t want me making a deal out of all this. Stubborn enough (and people do ask me… and Trish) to stick with me all this time. IF TRISH is stubborn, she is also strong.
THE ANNOYING reality is that life goes on around us. Bills come due, obds have to be completed, and there’s not much I can do hanging around in a hospital room. AND I AM SOO annoying. II do, however, have some abilities in raising Trisha’s blood pressure. I must shout out now, to our daughter, DRU. She was vital in persuading her mother, with a lot of push from ADAM LARM, childhood friend to two of our three children, and now a nurse (two side stories I’m not telling now) to get paramedics to check her out. No, of course she had to go. And. now…
NOW I’m home, Dru did. a second overnight (they kicked me out at 8:30), and I’m charging up the phone, hanging on, waiting to hear what the doctor (4th or 5th since the two in the emergency room) has to say.
I CAN go work, or I could go to SAINT MICHAEL, or I could work on this blog, or I could finish the ending for my novel. The last two pages have been ready for a while, waiting for my cluttered, disjointed mind to focus enough to come up with… something… perfect, something that ties up some of the storylines while hinting, not subtly, that the next book, “BEACONS” (like Swamies, a convenient surf spot name that reflects the characters) will continue the fictional story of love, marijuana, surf, and MAGIC in the real world, 1969, San Diego’s North County.
LIVE ACTION- It’s almost 11am on Saturday, and I got the latest. UPBEAT, waiting for this test result. Or that one. Antibiotics. Waiting. I need to make a decision. But first… finish this.
My plan was to write something on how. so many things in REAL LIFE take precedence over surfing: Family, work, emergencies of all kinds; bbut when I went to Microsoft Word and checked my file for my novel, it had the little arrow allowing me to. go to page 229 (of 229) rather than scrolling down (which I wouldn’t have done today), SOOOOO, here we are.
-HERE’S THE PITCH! “Swamis” is for sale. I NEED AN AGENT! I NEED A PUBLISHER! I DO NOT WANT an EDITOR-FOR-HIRE. If you are a LEGIT agent, or someone interested in publishing, or, perhaps, investing in some sort of self-publishing scheme, contact me, erwin@realsurfers.net
I SHOULD MENTION THAT “SWAMIS” is dialogue heavy and could be visually… compelling.
OR, I’VE long considered printing some very limited copies, offering the signed work (probably 8&1/2 by 11, with illustrations, signed, dated, numbered) for some decent price, to the most discerning investors and/or surf novel fans. I’m trying to ome up with a price. I will.
TRISHA, checking me out in 1969, with what might be perceived as an adoring look. More likely, it’s curiosity rather than amazement. I’ve been thinking about some sort of poem about what she means to me. Everything. She is my buoy and my anchor; keeps me afloat when I’m sinking, keeps me closer to reality when my imagination overrules my judgment. The anchor simile is tougher. I don’t always want a real life perspective. Nothing replaces honesty. It’s a key ingrediant in love.
Working. on it. Check out some other realsurfersnet pages when you get a chance. Oh, and I sometimes post on INSTAGRAM, realsurfersdotnet
I think Fast Eddie Rothman is saying, “FUCK CANCER!”
Surf spots can get crowded, surfers can be rude, kooks can spoil a ride, sometimes paddling out. is just. like, almost impossible, AND surfing (well) is kind of hard to do; I mean, like, even Kelly sometimes wipes out in an awkward way. BUT, now, going up to the clean crisp air in the mountains, shredding the pow-pow (hip lingo or powder, aka fresh, non-iced or mowed-over snow), that’s JUST SOOOO MUCH BETTER.
THE DREAM, REALIZED. YEAAAAA!!!!
MEANWHILE, out on the increasingly polluted oceans…
Yeah, it’s MAYHAM!!!
BUT, up on the slopes… the lineup is for the lift. Once at the top, it’s your mountain. No priority hassles, no better wave in a set; you just… pick your line and GOOO!
SO, GO; GO NOW!
AND, if I didn’t mention it, snow-related activities also have the advantage over sitting on a beach somewhere trying to figure out how to make the perfect s’more without getting all sticky, wondering if that sideshore wind is ever going to stop, hoping the predicted swell might actually show up, all while mean-mugging and side-eyeing the newbies and adult learners with their tricked-out rigs and their pristine, custom popout boards and their colorful beachwear, each of them claiming some overriding right to the next set wave; a lot of SKI RESORTS have SKI LODGES. Yes, you can show off your latest ski wear, posture and pose in warmth and comfort.
NOW I’ve thought about this too much. YES, there are increasingly large numbers of surf resorts around the world. Same opportunities for preening and posing. Select one and, since snow is kind of seasonal, and the season in these parts started late and is all but over, GO! GO NOW!!!
NO, I’m not all that bitter. It’s EASTER, the celebration of the resurrection of JESUS, and kind of the end of SPRING BREAK, so… bummer, but a sincere shout out to JESUS. Sorry so much hate and destruction is done while using your name to attempt to sanctify it. I have to imagine the haters and destroyers are imagining a different Jesus than the one in the Bible, and, since I’m imagining, I have to wonder how Jesus would behave in the lineup. “Your wave? Sure, sinner, hypocrite; go for it; there’s a better one coming.”
A couple of photos from CHIMACUM TIMACUM of his view during his recent trip to TORTOLA. Not to blow up the spot, but Tim claims waist to chest high most days. SO, perfect Erwin size surf. 80 degree water and air. And… yeah, yeah, yeah…It is kind of like bragging.
Not that I mind. But, as much as I enjoy hearing about someone else’s exploits, am I surfing vicariously and soaking in the mellow vibes? No.
There’s reporting, there’s bragging, and there is gloating. Not that I don’t feel some sort of desire to gloat my ass off on those occasions when I am the one scoring.
My SURF FRIENDS seem to love letting me know about scores they have, um, scored; magical sessions, narrow windows of surf perfection they were not mere witnesses to, but active participants in. I am, apparently, expected to be that guy on the beach, jumping up and down, that guy on the shoulder, both arms up. in celebration. “YEA!”
Then I get a call or a text or run into another surf friend. “Yes, I heard about it.”
YEAH and YEA and “I am so happy for you… or him… or her… or anyone who scores. I AM STOKED.” Second hand stoke.
BUT, really, I’d rather be the frothed than the frothee, the stoked rather than the stokee. YEAH.
AND, MY GUESS, so would you.
FROM THE EMAILBOX: erwin@realsurfers.net
I got the first image from legendary waterman TIM NOLAN. Tim uses a technique in which he bleaches out the colors from a photo, then uses water colors to bring a new vision of the image.
The middle image is the photo taken by RICO MOORE of KEITH DARROCK. If it wasn’t a great shot, neither Tim nor I would have been drawn to it. The bottom image is my take on the scene; Keith coming in, a fire, a coffee cup. Yes, I do love Tim’s color selection. Yes, I could have blended the colored pencil colors a little more smoothly.
I have been doing some recording of original Erwin songs for my Instagram account. I have decided, since I should not sing but do, and because I have songs worth sharing (my opinion), I am just going to sing and play harmonica.
UPDATE/UPDATE/UPDATE- March 26- If I stop and watch and listen to any of my one take, usually while driving videos, I will probably not post it. The harmonica sounds shrill, my voice sounds… pick any word to describe the sentiment, “That guy should never sing.” STILL, I have songs people should hear. SO, I will continue to try to improve. YEAH, I did kind of believe people might forgive my voice because of my age. Maybe, but I haven’t. Not yet.
Here are the lyrics to my most recent tune:
Before the wind comes up, Before the clouds blow in, Before the sun goes dark, Before the rain begins, Before the lights go out along the avenue, I’m gonna load up my tools and head on home to you. Home to you, home to you, gonna pack up my van and hurry home to you.
REMEMBER Saturday is NO KINGS DAY.
Shit’s at stake. Participate!
Thanks, as always, for checking out realsurfers.net
TRISH is undergoing radiation as part of the treatment for breast cancer. It is not fun. 21 trips to SAINT MICHAEL in Silverdale. Four have been completed. We are so very fortunate for the help of our daughter, DRU. She is, well, essential to this process. Since I am not needed or wanted in the rooms where Trish is being tortured, I have some time to… yeah, draw.
Not as much as I might want if I’m really into something, but enough to do some sketches. SKETCHES. I once took some (too much) offense when a surfer introduced me to his girlfriend as, “You know, he does t-shirts, and has that blog. I showed you.” “OH,” she said, “I really like some of your sketches.”
SO, yeah; thanks; these are sketches;
Port Townsend surfer/librarian Keith Darrock and I have not gotten it totally together in organizing the next OCCASIONAL SURF CULTURE ON THE STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA EVENT. However, it will be centered on the connection between surf and music, with, of course, surf artists and storytellers, as well as PETE RAAB, expert in all the background, history, and wonder of surf music. The event will be part of the summer library lineup, and… and we better get to work jockeying for position. This sketch probably won’t be part of the poster. SKETCH. We’ll see.
THIS SKETCH probably should be on PAGE II, NON-POLITICAL ERWIN. But here it is. Having been raised to be anti-war, and having studied enough of pasts wars, there seems to be a pattern in that some are sold with near-truths and some with outright lies. There are aggressors and defenders. There have been some shenanigans, such as one side claiming to be in the midst of negotiations and then… attacking. Infamy. And, of course, no war is complete without WAR CRIMES.
SHIT, now I’m going. If we don’t focus on the body count per acre of a war for land, or try to divine the math behind the cost in money and, yes, lives, of a blood for oil campaign; if we discount the suffering of the dispossessed and the seekers of refuge; turn away from scant news of scorched earth tactics; pretend ignorance of or an inability to imagine humans being capable of reported and, yes unimaginably inhuman, brutality; perhaps we know someone who served, survived, and is living with the consequences of ventures into man’s most telling feature; war.
I claim no one else’s valor. I got lucky, had a high draft number, missed out on my generation’s conflict. In a twist of fate, I was hired on to work for the U.S. Navy as a journeyman painter in 1971. Twenty years-old. Almost all the oldtimers were veterans of World War II. They had stories they weren’t keen on sharing with a punk ass, non-vet surfer, but, maybe on a payday afternoon, stories would be shared. I would listen. If painters are characterized as drunks, add a veteran who was under twenty years old at D Day, or Guadalcanal (my father and my father-in-law both served in the Marines, WWII and Korea), or an Irishman (“Don’t call me British”) who served with the British in North Africa, or a soldier who was there for the liberation of Nazi (still a dirty word to me) death camps; yes, I heard stories. I saw men damaged by what they saw and what they did.
Then there were the incoming Apprentice Painters. Vietnam vets. Some, no doubt gung ho at one time, were disenchanted. I would say most. Some were, whether they admitted it or not, broken. Spirit gone. For several in my time with the Navy including working on ships at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, their mental brokenness, while they were otherwise healthy, seems to have led to their deaths.
And now, forgive me, I’m thinking about two other stories. One guy thought he was fooling the government because they believed he had PTSD. He totally did. Though he seemed to trust me, I knew enough to not even come close to walking behind him. The second guy had been an officer, planned on getting enough knowledge of painting to go out on his own as a contractor. One day at lunch he announced to the crew that he had no trouble killing. “I could blow any of you away and go on eating.” “Well,” I said, “Would you mind eating somewhere else?”
My father, when presented with stories in the news (or movies that didn’t agree with his stance that he and those he served with served America, justly), told me that a lot of bad stuff happens. “You just have to live with it.”
I’m working on a song on this theme. Originally I was thinking of something to fit with the tune to “Makin’ Whoopee,” more recently (and not like recently recently- 1961) known as a theme for Pepsi commercials. “Now it’s Pepsi, for those who think young.” I DID, of course, get carried away. Doesn’t fit the tune.
Another lie, another war, One can’t help but wonder what we’re killing people for;
Another war, another lie, an eye for an eye for an eye for an eye; One has to wonder, has to wonder, has to wonder… why.
AS FAR AS NON-POLITICAL ERWIN, I’m thinking of this: REAL MEN DON’T HEGSETH!
I DO claim all rights to original sketches, and writing on realsurfers.net.
Contact me at erwin@realsurfers.net
The time I spent on this could have gone to my novel, “Swamis.” I did put in an hour or so, and I am on page 210 of 227. BIG FINISH! To be continued. Thanks for checking out realsurfers. If you like snow, better get on it! As far as surf… hmmm
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.
It may or may not still be rutting (breeding) season for deer, it may or may not be hunting season for deer; either of which might explain crazy activities by, um, deer. It’s always deer-hitting season in these here parts, and it might actually be a right of passage (whether in a truck, RV. or passenger car) to hit or nearly hit a deer. Extra points for elk, max points for a bear (not as if one looks for points- that would be creepy).
Last Sunday, after a football-watching Sunday Funday in Bremerton, a Marty Party, Dru, who, having gone to college in Chicago, never had a license or a car until she moved back, was driving home, well after dark, when, out of nowhere, some animal leapt out of the foliage and…
…totalled Dru’s first motor vehicle, and, evidence shows, tried to join her in the front seat. Because she was close to her house, and because, even with a bent frame, she was able, Dru drove home without checking on the status of the attacking animal. She did, quickly, call the State Patrol to report the incident. When I was in the neighborhood a couple of days later, no sign of the incident other than some pieces of safety glass, shimmering, near the fog line. Suspicious.
What was left of the passenger side front window. the license plate was removed to save the Seahawks frame, the liittle sticker on the largest remaining piece of glass was posed here, for effect.
DRU, coming to terms with coming of age, deer-wise.
IF YOU SCROLL DOWN to the previous. post, there’s a piece had written a while ago, then worked on again. The poem dealt with fog and Angels and such stuff. I posted it on Friday morning (or really late Wednesday) after I worked on the end of the Coyle Peninsula, tried to finish before dark, didn’t, and drove the twenty or so miles home (Coyle is part of Quilcene) on winding roads with no fog lines, eight miles of which was in minimal visibility fog, with cars and trucks coming at me with all lights blazing. I found an illustration that worked, but, if I had waited until Saturday, a shot of the lineup at fogged-in LaPush would have served as well. Or better.
My clients (still), VERN and DIANE, sent me this photo of me painting their Port Townsend victorian thirty years ago. Jeez, I seem to remember having more hair. There were a couple of stories of note:
ONE, I was painting that lower bump out late into the evening on a day threatening rain; in fact it was raining. But the wind was off the water, so, a couple of colors at a time, I continued. The wind shifted. The next day… repainted. Not a total loss.
TWO, on the side to my left (higher, steep dropoff), I decided, to save time, to lower one ladder (note the multi ladder technique) from the top of the other ladder, all while Vern was watching. Mistake. The top (fly) portion of the ladder dropped, out of control. Somehow I ended up under one of the ladders, holding on by one hand. I didn’t fall. When I got to the ground, I told Vern I always wondered if I could do that. I did; pretty sure I can no longer perform that acrobatic feat. Not that I’d try.
A couple of drawings:
The upper drawing is a possible t-shirt or Original Erwin Coloring Book possible, the other two are a sort of commission for Keith, taken from a spot he surfed in Oregon when he lived there, and more recently, visiting some of his old surf friends. the intention is to make a placemat, one image on one side, the other on the other side. Laminated, they work well. I’ve done it before. Not everyone has room on their walls, but most of us have room at the table.
REMEMBER, you can write me, erwin@realsurfers.net And, of course, original works are copyright protected, all rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr.
WATCH FOR SURF, DEARS, and Yetis and bears and whatever. AND WAVES. Be deer wise. And thanks for checking out my site. I plan to post another bit of “Swamis” on Wednesday. Watch for that, also.
…t-shirt ready. A bit too confusing, not graphic enough to be instantly recognizable, particularly in the black and white version. I should, perhaps, do an Original Erwin coloring book. A thought.
Real Surfers 