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Archive for the ‘News From Lisanti Land’ Category

Shandy Wilkes is Here!!!!!

Posted in Music, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2011| 3 Comments »

That was probably one too many exclamations points, but then again there is proper reason for excitement.  Tonight is the opening night of the play I have been working on for the last month or so with the theatre group PROXIMITY.  You remember back in July when I was fundraising for this cause?  Well if you don’t we needed to raise $20,000 to get the show off the ground and into the theater, see I am Not a Whore and Im Calling Out to You for more details on that.  We got the money during our benefit show at Soho, read About Last Night for more on that one and have been since working very hard on putting the play together.

When I say very hard I mean it.  These folks have been practicing eight to twelve hours a day for the last month at least.  I did not have do even a quarter of the work they had to and just that little bit was exhausting.  Tonight is the culmination of all of our hard work, Opening night at the Center Stage Theater.  The show starts at 8pm and tickets are $20.  I can personally vouch for the validity of the  integrity of the performance and you have yours truly on the soprano saxophone, so you know you can’t go wrong.

Come and check us out tonight 8pm at the Center Stage Theater in Downtown Santa Barbara.  If you cannot make it tonight or love it so much you need to see it again Shandy Wilkes will be running Thursday (8/11) and Friday (8/12).  For my east coast friends you can catch us next weekend at the Robert Moss Theatre in NYC Aug 18-20.  Hope to see you there.  Don’t miss out on this wonderful opportunity to have a grand old time and support the arts.

Here are some videos for a sneak peak at what you will be missing if you do not come out:

Shandy Wilkes Promo: Burning Dance from Proximity Theatre Company on Vimeo.

Shandy Wilkes Promo from Proximity Theatre Company on Vimeo.

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Fiesta 2011 Ole!

Posted in Anger, Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2011| 9 Comments »

Every year Santa Barbara throws a giant five day/night street party downtown for Fiesta.  It is basically our version of Mardi Gras, although we celebrate pretty hard for the real one in March too.  Ok, lets face it, Santa Barbara can celebrate a Wednesday hard.  It does not take much of an excuse to get this town made up of a majority of alcoholics to break it down.

Fiesta is the end all be all for the SB party scene.  A few years back there was this gang shooting down there.  I was trashed and just remember people stampeding past me screaming and yelling.  Then some cop tackled me screaming, “You have to get out of here its not safe”.  I was laughing the entire time.  There are some situations in life where being a bit faded works to one’s advantage or in my case a lot of bit faded.

After that year I took a few off from Fiesta.  During those years apparently there were stabbings and other gang related issues. Also ever since the shooting the town has stepped up they’re game having police everywhere.  The place looks like it is under marshal law.   It is definitely better then the alternative when the gangs used to always ruin everything.

First Night

This year being that my new roommate had never experienced a Fiesta before I felt it my personal duty to show the guy a fun time.  I had just got out of a three hour band rehearsal and for whatever reason felt like a night of heavy drinking.  I got home busted out the handle of rum in my freezer and emptied it.  Then on the walk down I stopped by JJ’s this ghetto ass liquor store and filled my pockets with eight little airplane bottles of Sailor Jerry’s.

I gave my Roommate, Nick, two and downed the rest through out the night.  By 11pm I was gone, so drunk.  I found myself stumbling around the Presidio, lost Nick, ran into my friend Ryan from OC and some other guys I used to roll with and was dragged into the beer Garden.  After that I have no recollection of anything else that happened.  I thought I was gone for 15 minutes, only later to be informed by Nick that I went missing for nearly two hours.  I find a good black out on occasion to be invigorating.

Saturday Night Lets have a Bar Fight!

 Nick wanted to roll out and try to meet up this chick he thought he could score with.  I had my doubts, but having nothing better to do I accompanied him downtown.  I had some friends at Dargan’s and figured I would just mossie over there.  State St. was packed full of people.  I can’t remember the last time I saw the place so busy.  Every club and bar was hopping.  Nick and I cruised around a bit before going our separate ways.

I went into Dargan’s only to find out that one of my friends swooped and was gone already and my remaining two were over it and going home.  They got me a drink in their haste to leave as a consolation prize, A Jack and Coke, c’mon people for an extra UCB half point: What is the official drink of Lisanti Land and for another half point what is my preferred brand?  First person to get the right answer in the comments wins.  Then I was about to leave myself when some random guy handed me a beer and said he had an extra one cause his bud split.  I am never one to look a free drink in the mouth, let alone two.

Dargan’s is an Irish pub and definitely not my scene, but on this night there was this crazy funk band playing.  The group was five pieces plus two horns, all black guys, so you know the shit was authentic.  I was super into it and after I finished my beer got down on the dance floor.  Nothing is better then a night of good music and dancing.

I was having a blast doing my dance thing when this huge black lady decides to get up in there with me.  Now I have no prejudice when I’m getting my groove on just as long as you can keep up.  All of a sudden this big black guy grabs her arm and says “Marla what you doin?!?”.  She yells “leave it be Leroy” turns and slaps him in the face.  I busted out laughing, which further exacerbated the situation causing Leroy to swing at me.

I ducked, although a bit intoxicated my wits were still about me.  The intended assault caught the Mexican dude dancing with his lady behind me right in the side of the face.  He was none to happy about this.  In retaliation he lunged at Leroy pushing me aside.  They went at it pretty hardcore.  One of Leroy’s buddies came to his aid and two other Mexican guys jumped in to help out their boy.

Next thing I know I was standing right smack in the middle of a good old fashioned bar room brawl.  People were screaming and running out the doors. Drinks were dropped, the band stopped playing and yelled for security, who could not get through the panicking crowd.  What was I doing through all this you ask?  Mostly laughing my head off and drinking whatever un-spilt cocktails that were jettisoned in everyone’s frantic sprint for the door.  I guess everyone expected another shooting.  A fight between Mexicans and blacks can only mean trouble after all.

It was hilarious.  I full on accidentally started a bar fight. Yet did not throw one punch or get hit.  Finally the cops came rushing in and arrested everyone involved.  Luckily by that point I had slinked off into the shadows and out of sight.  Security cleared the place. The band counted off and stuck another groove.  All was well. I jumped back on the floor and enjoyed the rest of my night.  The best thing was that I had just recently told Nick that I really wanted to get into a good old fashioned bar room brawl.  Check that one off the list! That my friends is how you step in shit and come out smelling like roses.  If you are going to get into a bar fight it might as well be in an Irish bar even if it involved two black guys, three Mexicans and one ridiculous Italian.  No Irish necessary.  Sounds like the whole ordeal could have been the punchline for some bad racist joke.

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A Sea Going Voyage: Part III; I Didn’t Expect That to Happen

Posted in Life, News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged , , , , , , , on August 3, 2011| 6 Comments »

 If you missed Part I: Gearing Up or Part II: Quality Ocean Time click the links.

We motored around the corner from Smugglers Cove and passed about three random surf spots that Cit said were of little significance compared to where we were going.  I had to take his word for it being that I had never been there before.  All I knew was I wanted to hop off the boat and take advantage of some of the fun rights I saw.

Pulling up to the actual spot was as much invigorating as it was disheartening.  Here we were out in the middle of the ocean in one of the most remote places around and sure enough there were ten boats in the cove.  One was this half a million dollar yacht from Huntington Beach with about ten guys on it.  They had all the fixings, hot tub, big cabin, bbq, probably a nice galley with refrigeration, a shower, and lord knows what else.

Meanwhile we pulled up on our barely sea worthy sailing vessel with nothing more then a hot plate, a cooler and a couple of boards.  We were pirates as Cit put it and he was not pleased with the crowd situation.  The lineup was easily twenty five guys deep, everybody hassling and frustrated.  You could hear the jeers from the boat.

I decided to cook us breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon.  Let me take a moment to describe exactly what cooking on a boat is all about, especially in the ghetto ass little galley I had to work with.  I had never cooked on a boat before and all I can say is that it is as challenging as it gets.  Imagine getting knocked around by waves and pushed in every direction while attempting to chop, sauté, boil and sear food.  How I managed to keep from getting burned or lacerated is beyond my comprehension.  Its funny because all the pots are designed to clip into the range so that you don’t have to worry about a pot of hot water or even worse hot oil bouncing off into your face.

I think I made some pretty decent meals considering what I had to work with.  It’s a ton of work.  I kept getting knocked over by waves and was on a constant battle with seasickness.  Cit was overall pumped on the quality of the meals and it’s always good to keep the captain happy.

After breakfast he jumped in and paddle over to the line up.  I hung back to finish my food and clean up the galley.  I sat there and watched as this perfect 6-8ft + A-frame came out of deep water hit the reef and just went perfectly in both directions.  The left was good for about three to four turns before ending up on dry reef.  The right was a perfect wall bowling around the reef with anywhere from four to eight hit sections depending on the wave.  It was not really a barrel but a perfect wall with just enough lip to get gnarly on.  Cit said you could not ask for a more rip able wave and I would have to agree with him.

According to Cit there was a landslide 200 years ago or something like that and it created this perfect reef pass.  He is not a geologist by any means, but he seemed to know his shit about the island.  If you looked at the way the place was laid out there was nothing but sheer cliff all around and then this small rocky beach with a perfect wave in front of it followed by more cliff.  There was enough evidence for me to accept his reasoning.  Truthfully I did not give a shit how it got there. All I cared was that it was there and I was about to rip the fuck out of it.

It sort of reminded me of Hammonds but with out the shifty lineup and a bonus killable left.  The crowd slowly began to thin out as the early morning crew slowly made their way in to eat their own breakfast, “the bacon effect” as Cit called it.  I jumped off the boat and the water was a surprisingly warm, 65 degrees.  Hurting from the previous night I took my time paddling over to the peak.  Cit was sitting way outside and not looking to mix it up with the pack yet I sat with him.  Then a set came in.  Cit went on the first one leaving me out the back and in perfect position for the second.  I turned and burned to the chagrin of everyone out there.  One dude even yelled “way to just paddle out and snag a set wave”.  Shoots I don’t know how he was going to get it anyway if I was in the perfect spot for it.

Right off the drop I did a huge vertical tail free reo, which I recovered backwards in the white water.  I thought I lost the wave but then bottomed turned right into the next section perfectly and banged out another three good turns.  After that wave I hung on the inside and scraped a ton of fun lefts and rights.   I stuck a nice front side air reverse landing nose pick only to spin around staring dry reef in the face.  I bailed and swam up to face to avoid taking the rocks head on.  Still I got worked pretty good on them and learned that urchins live on those rocks the hard way.  I calmed down a bit after that thinking it would not be a good idea to get injured that far away from proper medical attention.

I paddled back to the outside to focus on the sets, but I think the crowd was still rather salty that I snagged that set wave off them.  I got a really nice right super deep off the pack.  This Long boarder tried to paddle on me, but in the process created a perfect section.  I hit it, launched a nice clean three foot backside gap air, landed perfectly on the other side, coupled by a few good hits and finishing with an air reverse in the shore pound.  Upon paddling back out no one had shit to say to me any more about anything.  Instant respect.

We ended up surfing till round two when the wind came up.  A decision needed to be made on whether to hang around for the wind to go offshore and have an evening session or cruise to the Santa Barbara side of the island and go for a hike.  Cit had his heart set on the latter, I really did not care either way, almost wanted to just sail home so I could get back to the Barb.  The ruling was to go for the hike.

We docked in a place called little scorpions that was supposedly a safe anchorage.  Thanks to a sudden change in the wind it became hell on water.  I cooked us up Spaghetti and meatballs as a celebratory meal.  Exploring the island was a total trip.  Turns out there used to be a ranch settlement there in the early 1900’s and as a result the parks department has a chill little museum and old farming equipment set up.  The place really was amazing and I am very fortunate for the opportunity to get there.  On the way back to the beach to claim our skiff and paddle back to the boat we passed this random group of people hanging out.

“Hey, you guys want a cocktail?” a voice chimed.  Well you folks know that one does not have to ask me twice and I think Captain Intoxication who was already five beers deep and a glass of wine felt the same.  These people opened up a cooler that contained a properly stocked bar.  Then they busted out a bit of chronic as well.  At that point I had a feeling we were not getting off the beach.

Normally I’m not one to indulge super hard (ok that’s a lie), but as I looked at our boat getting rolled around in the distance I knew I needed all I could get in me if I was going to make it through the night.  The stars were stunning.  I had not seen a sky like that since my New Zealand days.  Our new friends were hired kayak guides who spend five days on the island, two days off.  In a way I almost envied them.

Cit and I decided to cruise as our wits gradually came back to us.  As we were walking away he tripped over a rock and fell flat on his back.  Some how he managed to miss hitting any rocks.  Good old fashioned drunken luck strikes again.  We sloppily attempted to push our dingy back out into the water through the by then dicey shore break.  In the process we ended up springing a leak in the bottom of the hull.  To get back to the sailboat it was a quarter of a mile row through what now had become some very rough seas.

This was all going down in a beat up five foot dingy.  A few minutes passed and I felt a tingling in my feet.  The first thought that came into my head was “man that was some really good ganja”.  Then Cit yelled, “We are talking on water”.  I looked down and sure enough I was in water up to my ankles and growing.  Luckily there was an empty milk carton in the dingy.  I ripped the top off and started bailing to literally save our lives.  Its shark water out there, the night was cold and we were drunk.  I am pretty sure if the dingy sunk I would have drowned.

The Gods were smiling on us that night cause we got to the boat with the skiff barely afloat.  Immediately we pulled it up on deck and gave it a quick epoxy, during which I passed out.  I awoke to Cit freaking out at around 3am as the boat was getting tossed back and forth by five foot seas.  It was too dark to set sail but way to uncomfortable to sleep.  The two of us sat there in the dark sick from the rocking and drinking, just waiting for the sun.

At 5am we set sail.  The wind was howling and it was a different kind of scene then the previous day’s.  It looked so angry, like a scene out of Hemmingway’s Old Man In the Sea.  The sky was dark gray, the sea a bellowing deep greenish blue.  There were white caps everywhere.  Once under way Cit handed me the till.  He was exhausted and very hung over.  Turns out he did not get any sleep that night.  I was feeling bad too, but Cit definitely needed a nap.

I grabbed the till and held a steady course.  I had to work it so that the boat rode up and down the swells evenly to keep as minimal water from splashing over the bow as possible.  At first it was daunting.  Then I got the hang of it and I was cruising.  It became quite salubrious out there in the wee hours of the morning.  There was not a boat in sight except a giant barge being pulled by a tugboat and visibility was limited.  I could see the island getting smaller behind me and the ominous gray horizon in front of me; my trust was in the accuracy of my compass to get us home.

We moved at a humdrum pace towards Santa Barbara, yet I was ok with it.  I was in need of some time to be alone with my thoughts.  That has sort of become a common theme for me these days.  I am not going to get into that now.  There will be plenty of time to come for Lisanti revelations. All I can say is I cherished every minute of “Quality ocean time” as Cit put it the very first moment we left the harbor.

After four hours I could make out the big while buildings of City College and knew our time away from the stain of man had come to a close.  Cit woke up, came on deck and we lowered the sails.  The sea went completely calm just a few miles from shore and we motored it back to port.  Just like that it was back to reality.  Its good to escape from life sometimes, I do it a bit more often then I probably should.  Its not like my life is real by any means.  Most people are like why do you need to escape?  Lisanti Land may be a fantasy for you my friends out there in internetville but for it is reality and every so often I need a break.

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A Sea Going Voyage, Part II: Quality Ocean Time

Posted in Life, News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 31, 2011| 8 Comments »

If you missed Part 1: Gearing Up click here. 

As we motored out of the Santa Barbara Harbor my apprehension quickly turned into excitement and awe.  I had never been on a boat out of the harbor before and I have never been on a real sailboat. There I was first mate on a two man excursion to hopefully score some worth while surf.

Cit immediately began teaching me the names of all the different parts of the boat most of which I forgot leading to his frustration later when asked to do something.  I did actually learn a lot.  I had three main duties: Cooking in the Galley, Operation of the Hook (anchor) and keeping our coarse with the till (long stick used for steering).   Occasionally I had to help raise and lower the sails as well and propeller kelp detail.

The wind was nonexistent for the first 20 miles and it is around a 35 mile shot to the surf spot.  We got a late start no shoving off till after one.  Due to the calm conditions we had nice smooth seas but no wind thus having to use the small out board motor and only making a progress of 5.5 knots an hour.  Slow and steady wins the race.

On the way out we passed buoys laden with seals barking at each other.  The funny thing is I can hear those same seals at night from the patio of my apartment.  It was nice to finally see them up close.  There were all these tourists on kayaks sitting around the buoy staring at them as if they had never seen a seal before.

After about twenty minutes Cit handed me the till and said keep our course on a certain compass reading that I am not going to give out.  It was a warm summer day making visibility only about 15 miles or so thus you could not see the islands allowing navigating by sight to be impossible.  I grabbed the till and at first it was very hard to keep the boat on course with out constantly meandering in a serpentine motion, pissing off Cit.  After about 30 minutes I got into a groove.

We passed the rigs and let me say they are not nearly as nice when you get up close to them.  Most are just weathered boxes on stilts with cranes hanging off them.  I don’t know why I thought there would be more to it then that.  I think I have over glamorized the oilrig life style.  After being near them up close it seems a very solemn life for only the most salty or hardened of souls.  Apparently the majority of them all line up perfectly when you are next to them and it is because they pump along an under water mountain range that runs the channel.  All I know is that I will have a greater appreciation of the rigs next time I stare off at them from the shore.

About 20 miles out Cit yelled “there are dolphins coming up the bow”.  He took the till and let me go up to the front.  I hung off the mast’s suspension cables over the bow and watched and listened to the purposes as they playfully showed us how more capable they are then us at sea travel.  The sun was shinning and the water was the clearest dark blue I have ever seen.  I could not see land on either side of us and I was enjoying the spray on my face as it splashed up over the bow and then trickled down my bare chest sending exhilarating chills through out my body.

I began laughing out loud.  Two months ago I wanted to kill myself over a woman.  A WOMAN! What a waste that would have been.  If it were not for her I would not have even been standing there with the realization of just how wonderful life really is.  The world is an amazing place and I think we get bogged down by life too often and forget all the awe-inspiring things it has to offer.  Two months ago if someone told me I would be hanging off the bow of a sailing vessel playing with dolphins I would have said he were crazy.

There are just so many moments in my life where I just keep expecting to wake from this dream I am living, but I never do.  While everyone else was at Emma Wood getting all grumpy and annul this is what I was doing.  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.  Sorry I had to just chuckle to myself a little more.

 The King of Beers

At our slow pace, even when we were able to get the sails up we still only were averaging 6 knots, making the journey about a 4-5 hour peregrination.  For this duration Captain Intoxication (why he was garnished with this name) kept cracking and handing me beers.  “When in Rome”, plus it made the trip go by much faster.  By the time we got near the Island both of us were ten beers in each and thrashed.  As Cit put it “I may be a drunk captain, but I am a good captain”.  Honestly the guy really did know his stuff.  I was impressed.  Heck we did not die.

Unlike the rigs the Islands are a magnificent sight up close.  Most consist of sheer hundred plus foot cliffs made of black, white, pink, yellow, brown and red rocks, depending on the mineral type.  Some of the cliffs fall right down into the ocean, while others guard black cobblestone or black sand beaches with no other disturbance then the birds. Atop the cliffs are miles of tall yellow grass, cypress trees and just open space.  The whole area is a protected National Park allowing for no development.

There is wild life everywhere.   Seals swim in large packs, twenty or greater and jump out of the water in unison similar to dolphins.  Purposes swim around, sea otters, jelly fish and birds, tons and tons of sea birds of every variety.  It makes you think that is probably what most of the California coast looked like 200 years ago before man ruined it.  It was breath taking.

 Smugglers Cove

We pulled up at a “safe” anchorage, by the Islands standards.  All of them stick out in the middle of the ocean, where the weather is super fickle and all are uninhabited meaning no man made ports.  As Cit put it “we are pirates out here”.  Smugglers was a small cove semi protected by high cliffs on each side of it.  In the middle was this impressive rock/sand mix beach.  Up the hill from the beach was an old Olive Orchard that sill looked rather tame for not being manned in fifty years.  Cit said there was a ranch house up above the orchid as well.  Initially we were going to row into the beach and check it out, but it was already pretty late when we got there.  Then I cooked up some Rose Mary Chicken and mixed vegetables in tomato sauce.  After eating that and washing it down with the bottle of Merlot we were exhausted from the journey, good and drunk and with waning light decided it was better to chill on deck.

I passed out shortly after.  I awoke sometime in the night freezing cold after getting thrown off the seat I feel asleep in onto the deck.  Still drunk I crawled below deck climbed into my bunk and wrapped myself in my comforter.  In that position I stayed till morning.  Getting drunk off beer is a big mistake, probably my worst handover next to tequila.  Cit and I were definitely hurting from the previous night’s festivities.  The surf was on as we could see 3-4 foot south swells rolling past us and crashing onto the rock covered beach.

We hoisted the anchor, which by the way is a pain in the ass to do manually.  It takes so much strength to get the chain off the bottom and it is heavy as hell.  Not to mention it burns the fuck out of your hands.   We let out 75 feet of chain.  Hook detail fucking sucks and now I know why it is the first mate’s job.  Dropping anchor is a bit easier.  All you have to do is steady the line with your hand as it falls into the water to make sure the chain does not pile up on itself.  Finally it was off to the surf spot.

Stay tuned for Part III: The surfing, Island Adventuring and the Trip Home.

The rigs falling in line

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A Sea Going Voyage: Part I; Gearing up

Posted in Life, News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on July 30, 2011| 3 Comments »

I am going have to postpone this week’s UCB a day or so to write about a “most excellent adventure” to quote Bill and Ted. I was lucky to survive the whole ordeal actually, as my captain put it “if _________ happens you probably wont survive”.  This may take more then one part.  I literally have only been on dry land for a few hours and still feel like I am on a boat, not to mention the fact that I have had in the last three days a total of 10 hours of sleep and being it is my roommate’s last night living in Lisanti Land I promised we would go out to the Wild Cat tonight.  I am going to need a beauty nap at some point before that happens.  We will see how far I get.

A Sailing Trip, with a little bit of surfing and way too much drinking

Being temporarily unemployed is a wonderful thing.  Sure not having a ton of available cash is a bit of a bummer, but having oodles of free time is priceless.  Actually I have been putting a few applications out all over town and have gotten a bite or two, one being very prestigious for an aspiring chef.  I even have some cash work going at the moment as well, but those are blogs for some other time.

Wednesday morning I got a text from an acquaintance of mine who incidentally has a boat and owes me a tad bit of money for some ding work (what else is new, the ding repair business never changes).  “Are you free the next few days” the text read.  I have gotten these texts before and that means one thing: Island trip.  What am I talking about?  The Channel Islands of course, those south swell blocking curses of land that span the length of the coast line of Santa Barbara keeping it flat all summer long.

Those Islands don’t just block the swell they also funnel it in and enhance it at certain surf locales.  This person whom I am going to call Captain Intoxication, Cit for this blogs purposes knows the place like the back of his hand and will stay anonymous as will the actual location where we surfed.  This is to both protect the spot and keep either one of us from being banned from going back.  Also there will be no photos either for the same reason.  Sorry folks, but to make up for it I will try and be as descriptive as possible.

Captain Intoxication (Cit) and His Almost Sea Worthy Vessel

 I have been on stand by all summer long for one of his voyages.  Each time I have been bumped for his regular first mate he has been cruising there with for years.  Finally when I got the call I jumped on it.  I had to move a few things around, but I was not about to let this rare opportunity slip from my grasp.  Cit I found out has a kid on the way in November so life may not grant him the freedom to cut away as much in the future.

Certain influences in my life, those I value rather highly warned me more then once to stay clear of Cit.  I hate having a negative predisposition towards another person on behalf of a third party.  Cit has always been decent to me and never really given any reason not to be trusted.  I needed a pick ax for my garden and he lent me one. I have fixed boards for him and he almost always paid up front.  As far as I was concerned I was willing to entrust my life to him despite the misgivings of others.

After getting to know Cit over the last 48 hours I must say I found him to be an alright guy and I am proud to call him an acquaintance no longer in exchange for friend.  I pulled up to his slip at the docks with two boards (5’11 J7 round pin/5’10 J7 short board), sleeping gear, food for at least 5 meals (frozen chop meat/chicken breast, angel hair pasta, sauce, olive oil, canned vegetables, cookies, granola bars, 4 plums, bacon, dozen eggs, swiss cheese, 1 tomato, garlic, bananas, which went overboard cause of bad luck, a loaf of slice bread and two cloves of garlic, I was after all in charge of the galley), an old, but freshly sharpened santoku knife, 2 gallons of water, two wetsuits and my warmest cloths.  In addition I took along a change of clothes, a camera (never left my bag for fear of Cit throwing it over board), Oliver Twist (yes I am still reading it, I have been busy so get off my back), a bottle of merlot and sun block.  I don’t know why I felt the need to jot down the contents of my provisions, but it may prove beneficial later on in the story.

The Boat

 She floats, was the first thought that came into my mind and truth be told the 25-foot sailing sleuth was although beat up far better then anything I expected.  Once a few years back some friends and I stupidly believed we could get to the Ranch from Gaviota State Beach in an old beat up rubber ducky that was supposedly “water tight” with an electric motor that barely clocked the little boat 4 knots an hour.  This is definitely a good blog for some other time, but long story short we ended up deflating about 5 miles in and had to paddle the vitiate craft in on our backs.  It was a mistake I did not want to repeat again, but left me with low expectations for his boat.

The mast looked solid, the jib was good.  It had a small but adequate two bunk cabin, new radio, GPS, an out board motor, rescue skiff, a small two gas burner range with a sink and life jackets.  She needed a coat of paint, but besides that was more then sea worthy and in the harbor looked rather impressive.  Let me tell the reader that 25 feet is very small when you’re in the open ocean taking swells over the bow.

We stowed all the gear, tied up the sails, battened down the hatches, filled the water and gas tanks and shoved off.  Look for more on the voyage there and adventures from the island in Part II.

The Channel Islands

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About Last Night

Posted in Music, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , on July 26, 2011| 16 Comments »

Eight years ago I sold my soul for a measly $100 a gig playing with a discombobulate excuse for a jam band called Wooden Satellite. The name itself was a god dam oxymoron.  I mean if you built a satellite out of wood it is surely going to burn up in the atmosphere.  That is what for the most part happened in our case.

 

The group was myself on the saxophones, a guitarist, drummer and bassist.  Practices were spent with a three way drunken fight among the three while I blew Coltrane on my horn.  The fights always ended with a good old fashion bong rip session.  It did not take long before I stopped going to practices.

 

The gigs were a joke always at dive bars, but they had a following and I always got paid.  Finally it all ended because we lost a very lucrative running gig at a local bar. The three idiots did not want to pay their bar tab.  I felt like I was in the movie Blues Brothers sans Aykroyd and Belushi and the talented players.  Lets loose a $400 a week gig over a $100 bar tab real fucking smart fellas.  Rip another hit.

 

It was at that moment that I vowed never to pick up my saxophone in pursuit of pleasing the ears of others, who did not deserve to hear what I had to offer.  Fast foward eight years later.  You can only begin to imagine the gigantic internal conflict I was faced with when asked by my friend Ken to get up on stage with his solo project and blow.

 

I had been playing my horns regularly again and thought why not take a risk?  I spend more time then not preaching to everyone here to go out and lay it all on the line.  Since I hate hypocrisy I made the decision to put myself out there vulnerable for all to see.

 

What the fuck am I talking about you ask.  Well as most of you know by now I have been working with a small nonprofit theatre company here in town called Proximity.  Last night we had a fundraiser at this quaint music venue here in downtown Santa Barbara called Soho.  Initially I figured I would just go for support but then found myself up on stage with three saxes around me just like old times.

 

The music as Ken put it was “Electro-Funk-Pop” a very unlikely combination, but when all was said and done it came out awesome.  I had a few very close friends show up to the gig and the room was plenty packed with all sorts of cool cats out to support a good cause. I showed up and did my usual pre performance routine.  I put myself in a corner away from everyone where I could get in the zone and be alone with my thoughts.  Focus on the task at hand so to speak.

 

Normally I would have had a drink or two to set my mind at east, but I promised Ken no drinking before the show.  Then it was time to take the stage and my mind was a complete blank.  I knew what needed to be done and I was completely focused like the pinball wizard.  I was just a side man, but the thing about my playing is once I get going I never seem to be able to stay in that role

 

I looked out at the audience just as we were about to get started and I remembered how much I loved looking out from the stage into the lights, just barely being able recognize faces.  That moment of anticipation right before that first note is blown.  I recognized a new person in my life whom is steadily becoming an important character in Lisanti Land.  I was glad she came and could share that moment with me (look for more on this mystery woman soon, Im not quite ready to expose her to you folks yet).

 

The first two songs kept things mellow for me, a few easy riffs, some long tones and melodic lines.  The next few began giving me some room to blow.  By the end it was guns a blazing I had fully remembered why I got into music in the first place.  The crowd was on their feet.  I did my usual non-committal eye contact, half bow, turn of the shoulder thing that I always used to do on stage. Got my horns and stepped off.

 

The whole ordeal was eight years in the making and it went down in a mater of 35 minutes. In that short time I was reinvigorated.  Any doubts I had about my life after all the bullshit I had to cut through the last few months were gone.  I remembered exactly who I was and why I exist.  I define who Chris Lisanti is and no one else.

 

As I got off stage everyone was hugging each other and celebrating.  Turns out while we were performing my theatre company reached our goal of $20,000, the reason the event was happening in the first place.  The gnarly thing was we had only raised a little over $13,000 before going on and there was only about 16 hours left.  If we did not make the full quota we would have gotten nothing at all.  Big things are about to happen and just when I thought the golden age of Lisanti Land had passed we go and enter an even stronger age.  Cheers everyone.

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I Am Not A Whore

Posted in Music, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 18, 2011| 5 Comments »

A few weeks ago I wrote a blog Im Calling Out to You.  The basic gist of that blog was to solicit funds for this theatre company here in Santa Barbara that I am currently working with called Proximity.  I am not going to reiterate what was mentioned the latter blog, you can click on the link above if your interested.  Instead I thought I would make one more plea to all of you for help.

Proximity is this nonprofit theatre group whose sole purpose is to perform high quality original shows that not only entertain but leave the audience with a thought provoking message, a message that may just help change perspectives and break down barriers.  More importantly we are a group committed to the avocation of the performing arts at no personal gain to ourselves besides the satisfaction of a job well done.  Everyone in the group is a super talented individual bringing his/her personal strengths and creative diversity to form an impervious unit.  Believe me all you need to do is see us in action and it will all become clear.  A picture is worth a thousand words after all.

If we are not in it for the money then why do we need it?  Unfortunately even if our time is free of cost other extenuating circumstances need paying for: rehearsal space, performance space, costumes, sets, and travel.   This summer we are putting on an original show called Shandy Wilkes written by talented NYC based play write Karina Richardson.  We will be taking the stage here in Santa Barbara at The Center Stage Theater From August 10-12th.  Immediately following the Santa Barbara shows Proximity shall be whisked away to New York City to perform Shandy Wilkes at the Robert Moss Theatre in the East Village from August 18-20th.

Why am I wasting your time?  Some of you have contributed already.  Let me be the first to thank my old friend, Sayreville bowl partner in crime and house party enthusiast Nick Kiefer for contributing to the cause.  He actually threw down the first day I wrote about my cause.  I also would like to thank my father Joseph Lisanti whom also made a very generous donation.  There all sorts of little incentives as well for different scales of donations, not that you need such motivation, but its always nice to get something in return for your kindness.

Proximity is a legit nonprofit organization meaning your donations are tax deductible.  If your looking to clear some heavy earnings with the IRS this year  for $10,000 we will credit you with director of the play.  Think how that would impress a date.  You take to the show, she opens the program and reads that you are the director.  She does not have to know you did nothing more then give $10,000.  You can just look into her eyes with an air of satisfaction and watch her melt right there in front of you. Trust me you will definitely get some that night.  For $1,500 you can name a character in the play.  Think of all the fun you can have with that, while helping out a great collection of artists.

Seriously there are over 3000 readers on this blog now and believe me I love each and every one of you, even the those I don’t know.  SurfingRuinedMyLife.net is my heart and soul.  It is me personified. My life out on the internet exposed to the public for all to read and be entertained, be it good or bad.  I don’t censor too much. When I’m hurting I write, when I’m happy I write, when I have crazy bizarre ideas I write.  If you have noticed the content here has gotten a thousand times better then it used to be.  That is because it takes me longer to compose a good coherent blog.

Here is what I am asking from everyone as a thanks Chris for giving me something fun to read all these years.  So far we at Proximity have raised just over $9000, but we still need another $11000.  I know we are all broke, but if everyone here just gave $1 dollar then that would $3000!!! If a few gave $5 or $10 then who knows what would happen.  I am going to up the ante even more for you folks.  Kick starter gives me a list of backers whom have donated.  It does not tell me how much you put into the pot, but if you end up on that list I will write a special blog just for you about anything you want.  Anything.  It could be a special recipe, a blast from the past, a drunken tale, a blog all about you, a fictional story about a hover cat.  You name it I scribe it.  I hope I have to write 3000 of these things.

Once again thank you Dad, Nick Kiefer, and even Nick the Kook for mentioning us on his blog staywet.net.  If you feel so compelled to help out click here to donate: http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/kenurbina/proximitys-shandy-wilkes-in-sb-and-ny.  If you need help just let me know and I can walk you through it.  Oh and Kiefer don’t worry you will get your blog too, just let me know what you want it to be about.  I hope if you are in the New York or Santa Barbara area for any of the show dates you will come out to see the show!

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Orange County Can Keep Lowers

Posted in News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 13, 2011| 14 Comments »

Picture perfect Lowers. Isn't it grand when things look good on paper?

Ahhh…summertime in Santa Barbara, what a great time to be here according to tour books and international visitors.  If you’re a surfer on the other hand summer it is all about hassle, especially if one decides to keep surfing through the season.  Sure there is the occasional short period wind swell day here and there, but for the bulk of the time the channel is a complete lake.  That is just how the tourists like it here on the “American Riviera”.

Best bet if you surf, go on an extended trip, crash at a friends pad for the season down in Orange or San Diego Counties or find another way to occupy your time.  For me summertime is all about surfing marginal waves for which I drive nearly forty miles each way to get.  There is nothing better then burning $5 a session in gas to go surf garbage.  Ok, its not that bad, I mean most of the time it is far better then what I would be surfing back in NJ this time of year.  I’m just jaded these days.  Five years in California will do that to a person, especially up here where beach breaks are scarce and good points and reefs the norm.

Usually by this time in the summer I have scored a good day at Malibu or Jalama, even a sick day or two at River Mouth.  This year unfortunately that has not been the case.  A good south swell was forecasted for early week and two opportunities for me to get some quality surf for a change presented themselves.  The first a boat trip out to the Channel Islands.  This was the one I really hoped would materialize, but just like that ranch connection that never comes through, it never happened.

Luckily my boy Kevin and his friends, Luis and Jeremy were eager to make the three hour trek south to Trestles just south of San Clemente.  For my non-surfing readers Trestles is one of the most famous surf spots in the United States and one of the top in the world as well.  It is considered by most the hot bed for progressive surfing in the continental US.  Anyone who is anyone has surfed the wave at some point in his/her life.  Its one of those places every serious surfer should visit before death.

Basically Trestles consists of a collection of coble stone reef breaks with in a ten mile span of beach.  Going north to south you have Cottons, a mushy left that can be fun on the right swell direction, wind and tide and usually has the least crowd factor.  Then there is Uppers a rather punchy right with the occasional closed out left that draws a sizable crowd being it is the closest break from the trail.  Following Uppers you have Lowers, the crown jewel of Trestles offering a 50-100 yard wally left and a 100-250+ yard right that although a bit softer allows for just about anything the imagination has in store when it comes to wave riding.

Lowers is always packed with everything form top pros, to hot up and coming groms, to kooks, long boarders and every type of surf tourist you can imagine.  That being said if you just get one or two good ones you will be more then satisfied.  After Lowers you will come to Middles, a collection of mainly closed out bowls that serve up on the right day some fun killable peaks and is a refreshing break from its always crowded counter parts.  The most discouraging thing about Middles is one has to watch lowers peel off perfectly in the distance, while surfing short ended closeouts.

Finally after middles you have Churches, a usually mushy and sectiony right hander more known for long boarding then anything else.  On the right day though the place can fire.  I surfed there about five years ago and it was solid overhead and dredging for easily 150 yards.

I used to fancy all the spots at Trestles, opting to surf Lowers as little as possible just to avoid the horrendous crowds.  These days being a Californian now and a seasoned Rincon aficionado I have become completely desensitized to stupid obnoxious crowds.  I always get my waves eventually anyway and would much rather catch fewer waves that are really good then a bunch of garbage any place else.

We showed up at Lowers Monday (7-11) and it was solid 6-8ft with bigger sets and to my surprise only had about twenty guys on it.  The wind was a little bit funky but there were still great left and rights coming in.  The lefts had more juice then the rights.  I went out there and absolutely frothed for three hours.  I have never surfed out at Lowers and pretty much had my pick of waves.  I mean there was still plenty of scraping and jostling to get the good ones but it was nowhere near as intense as usual.

I went in for lunch and hung out on the beach before paddling back out for the evening glass off session.  The tide had gotten a bit higher, but the surf filled in a little more and it was very clean.  Unfortunately the crowd came in with the tide and it got really shifty.  Between both those factors getting the good ones became very frustrating.  I did manage to snag one huge right I managed around eight turns on and two really fun lefts, one I stuck a crazy vertical tail free thing, where I came completely unglued on the re-entry yet somehow managed to recover and then get three more turns.  The last I had a solid ally-oop.  It was a good day of surfing.

After a double session and an entire day at the beach I was over Trestles and ready to come home.  My compadres unfortunately for me were still stoked.  I soon found myself in my least favorite situation: camping.  We got ourselves a plot over at San Onofre State Beach on the bluffs.  Luckily my boy Kevin had a two man tent and a queen size blow up mattress making the night more bearable.  The boys and I lit a solid camp fire (you know how much I love fire), talked some story, and ate a gigantic pizza made for us by this crazy skin head dude who was completely tattooed from head to toe at a local joint in San Clemente. The pie was surprisingly not bad or I was so hungry it did not matter.  I would bank on the latter.

Next morning thanks to certain lazy members of the group we got a super late start, getting to Lowers after ten.  We parked and walked up from San-O.  Let me give the reader a sound piece of advice: that is not the way to go.  The walk is ten times harder; being one has to trek across hot soft sand for an easy two hundred yards.  To our dismay Lowers was blown to shit and there were easily 75 guys on it, six cameras on the beach, wannabe pros and invidious colored wetsuits everywhere.

I did manage to run into my old photographer Dave Molleck as he was cruising.  It was nice to catch up with him after moving to New Port for more opportunity to make it as a surf photographer.  Not stoked I watched it for over an hour as the sun burned the fuck out of my skin (a fact I am not enjoying today). Finally Kevin and I forced ourselves to give it a go and by far it was the most demoralizing sessions ever.

I have not been in a shit fight for waves like that since last summer at Malibu.  It was a straight up battlefield out there.  I literally had to push a 14 year old hot headed grom off a wave.  I was already up on the left and he stood up to try and backdoor the right.  He yelled at me and I grabbed his arms and sent him off the back.  That was my first good wave out there.  When I was kid I would never challenge a person of higher rank then myself for a wave, alas times have changed.

After about and hour and a half the crowd died and I began getting some really good right-handers.  I had three in row where I banged out 6-10 solid turns.  I would have surfed another two hours but after two and half hours already I was completely strung out from the previous day and all the exhausting lineup jockeying.  As I was getting out Dane Reynolds showed up and absolutely destroyed the place.  I have surfed with Dane a bunch of times, but have never seen him surf Lowers.  The guy made every other surfer out there look like a kook and judging from my knowledge of his ability he was having an off session for him.

I was contemplating another session before cruising, but I was sun burnt, completely enervate and eager to get back up to the “Barb” by a decent hour.  Looking back I probably should have sucked it up and paddled.  This was the first time I had been back at Lowers in three years and I think I am good for another three years.  Give me a good day at Rincon any day.  Winter is coming!!!!!

The reality of surfing Lowers.

The reality of surfing Lowers.


LNF: Lowers Raid! from Lastnamefirst.tv on Vimeo.

 

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The Commitment Cut

Posted in Deep Thoughts, News From Lisanti Land, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on July 10, 2011| 7 Comments »

Well it all started or ended I should say two months ago (Read Bowing Out  and One Last Perfect Day blogs if you are a new reader.  To my old readers Im sorry for the constant relinks but I have recently picked up a bunch of new readers who missed what I would consider two of the best blogs I have ever written.).  Since as most of you know things here in Lisanti Land have been a bit dicey, somber and even a bit morbid at times.  That was my grieving process in action.  I went through  about two cups of sadness, a touch of anger, a bit of despair, a pinch self pernicious and 32 ounces of denial.

The denial really was the toughest part for me and the one that was most crippling.  I kept thinking she would come back and that I actually would take her back.  Why would I ever want to return to a situation so fucked up as the one I found myself in three months ago?  How could I have ever thought I could share the same air space with someone who could treat another human being, especially one whom she supposedly loved and who loved her back, so vile disgusts me now.

Monday was the big day for me, July 4th.  I celebrated out nations birthday and what would have been our two year anniversary finally unpacking the remainder of articles I had piled up in the corner of my room.  MY ROOM!  I hung all my old pictures on the walls, put up some new ones there was no room for when she lived in my home.  MY HOME!  MY LIFE!!!!  By doing this I accepted that fact of it being my life and no one else’s.  I did not only accept it I embraced it.  I was an amazing, great person before I met her and lived a beautiful life, which I enjoyed.  Now I am going to start living again.

I am through living in the past.  No, the life of Chris Lisanti exists in the present and the future looks bright, spectacular even.   There was one more integral thing I needed to do, something I have been thinking about for the past six months.  I wanted to cut my hair.  A new style for a new me.  A  drastic hair change for me is a huge step.  Keep in mind I have had the same hair style since I was 23.

I was ready to get the ball rolling about a month ago, but I needed to pick a style and then find a stylist I trusted and who would not charge me an arm and a leg.   My friend Pepper helped me narrow down a few possibilities using her 19 year old perspective.  Then my friend Jamie came through with a stylist, her stylist, Elyse.  Right from the get go I just knew this girl was going to be the one to create a wonderful new look for me.  She took the time to feel out my hair profile and then went to town.  If your in Santa Barbara and in need of a spectacular hair cut let me know and I will connect you with Elyse. She will do you right.

As she hacked off more and more hair I began to get very apprehensive and even a bit remorseful of my hasty decision.  When all was said and done and she combed it out for me I was grinning from ear to ear.  Not to float my own boat (who am I kidding I am the king of narcissism), but I looked incredible.  I gained a whole new sense of being and self confidence that comes with looking and felling good. I don’t know what is going to happen next and quite frankly I don’t care.  All I can say is that its going to be a damn fine time!

Looking all shaggy before the cut.

Ladies and Gentlemen I am proud to present the new Chris Lisanti. 🙂

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The Return to Surf Beach

Posted in News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2011| 37 Comments »

Fuck the 4th of July, what a terrible day.  As far as Im concerned it could be whipped off the calender altogether.  I mean whoopty fucking doo for America and all, but I think I will sit this one out thank you.  That being said the initial plan for the day was to sleep for majority then move on to heavy drinking, moving on to straight up black out drunk.  Even the best plans of mice and men go astray in life.  I awoke at 6:30 am with a shitty head ache from drinking till I passed out the night before (aint alcoholism grand folks?).

The sound was excruciating in my ears, likened to a blaring knife piercing my ear drums deep into my brain.  Then I realized it was just the sound of my cell phone ringing.  Lindsay being the persistent little one she is kept calling till I got reluctantly got out of bed to take her surfing.  I checked the report and buoys and things looked less then appetizing.  On a hail Mary mission I decided to strike out for Jalama.  I had yet to make it up there this season and what better time then on a Holiday when it was bound to be crowded, small and windy.  Happy 4th of July!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Also I have been dying to test my car’s handling capabilities on the Jalama road.  Since Im still alive we can safely agree that it passed (Death wish foiled #1).

Upon arriving to the bluff over looking Cracks it became obvious that the tide was way too low and the SW wind already taking a toll on it.  On the plus side there was almost no one out.  Against my better judgement (who am I kidding I knew exactly what I was about to get myself into.  One phrase: Death Wish Baby!) and Lindsay’s mortification I made the call to run up to Surf Beach.  For those of you who don’t know about surf beach it is this sketchy, sharky, cold, unruly beach break just north of Jalama on Vandenburg AFB.

Surf Beach was featured in many of the old myspace.com blogs and just recently here on surfingruinedmylife.net in the blog: When We Become Food, about a fatal shark attack that happened there in October of 2010.  Since that incident I had not surfed up at Surf Beach.  The place has always been known to be sharky and the entire time out there one is constantly looking over his shoulder in wonderment of what may be lurking beneath.  Its a deep water spot out in the middle of no where and more times then not it is super foggy and there is no one surfing.  I have soloed it there too many times to count and let me tell you all those times I was pretty much shaking in my booties the entire time.

I pretty much avoided the place like the plague for the past nine months.  This morning I found myself standing on the dunes above the lineup staring out into an empty ocean with a solid marine layer making the outside bar unrecognizable.  I saw four guys paddle out but never saw them again once they entered the fog bank.  Lindsay was dead set on not surfing and I was hardly motivated.  The only redeeming factor for me was that I wasted the time and gas to get up there, when I could have already had polished off my first bottle of wine for the day.  Bye bye liver, hello dialysis (Death wish plan #2 foiled).   Nah, if my liver goes I’m just going to sharpen up the Samurai sword I found in the trash outside my apartment and commit seppuku.

Ultimately we saw a set of rights run down this sand bar that got us frothing and we decided to forgo our original hesitations, shark or no shark we were on it.  The water was surprisingly warmer then I had expected and was fairly tolerable.   Lindsay and I got out there and the fog immediately got thicker and the four other guys whom we had seen paddle out were no where to be found.  After nearly twenty minutes of strenuous paddling I made it to the outside bar.  I looked back for Lindsay but she was no where to be found.  I managed to get a few choice rides out there before realizing I had fallen victim to the intense current and needed to get out and walk back up the beach.

Im not going to lie I was a bit scared to be out a few hundred yards from the beach with forty feet of water under me and a fog bank too thick to see more then five feet in either direction.  The first thought that went through my head was that if I got taken no one would even find out till Lindsay gave up on me.  Then my death wish instincts kicked in and I was well at ease.  Of course with my luck being the way it is I survived unscathed by the mouth of the sea’s most vicious predator (Death wish #3 foiled!!).  We surfed two drifts before calling it a day.  After the second drift we had not realized the current had shifted polarity thus walking the complete opposite direction in the fog for an easy 500 yards.   Surf Beach is like the mother fucking Bermuda Triangle.

Lindsay was a bit freaked out by the whole experience, meanwhile I was rather proud of myself to finally get over the fear I have harbored for Surf Beach through the last nine months.  It always feels good to conquer any type of  adversity.  I also realized that I guess I’m just not going to die.  For whatever reason no matter how hard I push the envelope God just wont let me leave this earth.  Everyone says its because he has a higher calling for me.  I just think he wants me to rove across the planet for all of eternity perpetually pathetic and alone.  Whatever the case as long as there is internet you will be able to be entertained by my daily torment, the torment of living.

On the way home I pushed my luck even further by giving a ride to a sketchy character who had just gotten off the train from LA and needed a ride into Lompoc.  I guess he had been shot down by everyone else in the lot.  I looked at it as a prime opportunity to get that stabbing I have been hoping for out of the way (read the opening paragraph of A Guilty Pleasure to get the lowdown on that).  Turns out John was a really nice guy who had just moved to Lompoc and is studying business at SBCC.  He used to work as a cook back in LA.  He was a totally chill guy whom I was able to stoke out without doing anything more then giving him a ride to a destination I was passing through anyhow (death wish #4 foiled).  Lindsay was super against it and all I had to say to her was that there may come a time when she is in need and would be so lucky to be graced with a similar kindness.

After that I treated us to a victory lunch at a spot John recommended called the Jalama Beach Cafe.  All I can say is that the food was superb and the service top notch.  If you ever find yourself in Lompoc be sure to stop in to the Jalama beach cafe for a bite.  I know it will be my new spot for every Lisanti Adventure Tour that makes its way up there.  That folks is how I turned what was to be one of the emotionally hardest days of my life into a bit of positive.  As Biggie Smalls says in Juicy “I love my life because I went from negative to positive”.

Fun surf, but what lurks beneath?

Spared this time...

Just about as gnarly as a shark attack, seppuku.

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