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Living as a Junkie

I’m an addict and I’m strung out.  Its been one bad fix after another for me and at this point I am at my wits end.  I have paid dearly for this bad habit for the better share of my life. The worst part is 90% of the time all my efforts go to scoring deplorable dope a best. There was a time when I thought I had a chance at beating this illicit action and even had it well at bey and under my control.  Now I realize I am beyond hope and will suffer at my own lack of self control for the entirety of my existence.

I have known others through out my life with the same affliction and watched such destroy them as it has been slowly destroying me.  I have seen others successfully enhance their problem so that they could make the most of their self indulgence.  What am I talking about my friends? Is it my alcohol problem, I really wish that was the case.  That is something I have always been able to control.  I am talking about my surfing problem.

I get plenty of emails and messages asking why surfing ruined my life.  The answer I always give is that surfing ruins your life when it becomes your life, your main purpose for waking up in the morning.  When you get to this point your life as a citizen of our current social structure ends and your life as a surfer begins.  Tons of people claim they surf and that they are a surfer, but until you have blown off some of life’s most important happenings to ride 2ft wind blown close outs or cashed out on your entire known existence to move half way across the world in pursuit of a wave that has a name you can’t even pronounce your just a dabbler.

Is it worth giving up everything you know for this everyday?

I surf close to 7 days a week and have put myself in a situation where I can surf every day if I really want to.  Those few days a month when I don’t surf I hate myself all day for it.  Don’t believe me peruse the surflog section of this site.  Most surf addicts are in the same boat as myself.  I will even give an honorable mention to guys who although may not get to surf everyday have put themselves into a position that they can and won’t ever miss a fun day.  It is very understandable if you have a wife, kids, house and full time job necessary to support the latter that it is not practical to blow off responsibility for 2ft blown out crap.  Those guys have a schedule to keep and for the most part have done a stellar job to make surfing a part of that schedule.

A few days I posted a surfing blog and a positive one at that, “Better then Sex“.  This blog epitomized the true essence of what surfing is all about.  Its propaganda like this that has the masses stoked on getting into flopping around on a piece of foam.  It fuels, magazines, websites (this is loosely one of them), movies, television,  surf camps, surf schools, surfing resorts and as a direct result surfing is more popular and profitable then it ever has been even in a current period of fiscal recession.  Out of this giant “surfing” population it is only maybe 10%  who are truly addicted, 5% who have given up having a “regular” life for it and 1% who have given up everything in pursuit of the perfect wave everyday for the rest of their lives.

I fall into the 5%.  I need to surf everyday and have like I said structured my life through many series of pain, heart ache and tireless frustration in order to accomplish this.  I have also caused similar to plenty of loved ones and great friends on my journey.  In all truth I really don’t have any friends.  One cannot count on a person who’s entire life is based and planned around a 5 day forecast.  Sure there are as far out as 14-day forecasts but those who are really serious know only the five day can be trusted.  For the last 12 years my life has revolved around the 5-day surf forecast.  At first friends, family, women I have cared about find this intriguing, attractive, even entertaining, but when reality sets in and they realize its not a sport, instead a way of life, a tragic one at that.  Those same allies sooner or later give up.  Just like you would on a hard drug user who won’t quit.

I have begged, burrowed, hustled, stole, lied and cheated in order to keep getting my fix.  When things are good and the surf is pumping us addicts are stoked and awesome people to be around.  When it begins to falter and conditions meager our attitudes change very fast.  Instead of that happy go lucky perpetually stoked individual all the propaganda portrays you have a cranky, frustrated, irritable, aggressive, and ultimately depressed entity  that is a far cry from the advertisements that got one to buy a surf board and wet suit in the first place.

As stoked as I was on Saturday with near epic River Mouth is as let down I have been since.  Following that session of amazing proportions I have surfed nothing even remotely worth the price of admission.  There have been bad winds, even worse tides, terrible swell angles and poor periods.  To make matters worse add in the regular problems and stress of the everyday grind and things become unsettling really fast.  I lost my job, my roommate, can’t keep a girl, summer traffic has been worse then ever thanks to a new highway expansion project that is going to make my life miserable until 2015. By the time that date comes the population will have doubled and the traffic as well thus making the road work to be completely obsolete.  There is nothing worse then sitting in traffic for 2 hours to get to a surf spot that should have taken 20 minutes only for it to be over crowded and 2ft and windy.

Throw in a host of new surfers, both beginners and intermediate.  Its those average “I surf a few times a month or when surfline.com tells me to” that really cause all the trouble.  We can thank every surf camp, surf instructor and the creator of the fish and fun shape for this.  Believe me I helped, which makes it all the more ironic.  Now when its small and terrible, a time when I usually had most breaks to myself or shared with a few other die hards it is packed with groms who think they could be the next Dane Reynolds, kooks who just graduated from their soft tops, soccer moms on their stand up paddle boards and valley boy Joe who just pulled up in his mustang convertible.

It is these days when I hate surfing the most.  I have given up everything to go ride those terrible waves that were once uncrowded.  My stoke meter was already at a 3 and I was forcing myself to paddle.  When you add the crowd that level decreases to .01.  That was me this morning in the dirt lot above Emma Wood, where I sat for a good hour deciding if I should surf, go home, or throw myself off the cliff in front of a passing train.  The train option being my best bet especially since I failed at successfully constructing that guillotine out of the trunk of my car.

After waiting till the wind got harder and the crowd tripled I suited up and headed out.  There were about four peaks working with a few sneakers thrown in.  On the beach there were three telephotos and a video?  I looked around.  There was no one in the lineup worthy of such an entourage and the surf was barely chest high, windy and inconsistent at best.  Then I saw Dane suiting up bringing things into perspective.  Has the surf been that bad this season that photographers have gotten so desperate they need to try and sell pictures of Dane groveling?  I guess so.  He did his usual half hour of Emma.

I jumped in and the water was freezing. If it was 58 I would say it was warm.  I had a 4/3 and booties on and was cold the entire time making the drive home one of me blasting the heat to get the blood flowing again.  I felt like I was in the movie “Top Gun” when all the fighter jets were swarming around Maverick and Goose.  There were groms paddling every which way, kooks in front of me, body surfers and even some idiot on an ocean kayak.  Apparently some people got lost on their way to Mondos.  I got a few forgettable ones that I had to fight tooth and nail for.  Then a set wave slipped past the pack and swung wide right to me. I dropped in, it sucked up and I had a solid stand up tube, came out clean.

My initial instinct was to claim it so that if one of the photogs managed to shot it the sequence would end well.  Then I realized that they were all focused on Dane and these two groms who were ripping. As I was paddling back out this random dude threw a shaka at me and I was glad to share that little bit of stoke on an otherwise uninspiring day with him.  After that it was more terrible ones and more paddle battles, near collisions and tons of frustration.  Finally I got my 20 wave quota and was just looking for that one more.

Of course if you surf this almost always means the ocean is going to go flat and that the good wave wont come.  You have to end on a good on otherwise your  whole day is going to be shit. That was exactly what happen.  I got dropped in on twice.  Blew three late take offs.  Then finally a good left came my way.  I was about to drop into when this little grom maybe 12 paddled me and closed out the section on me.  Normally I let these instances go, but everyone hits their breaking point and this was mine.

I paddled up to the poor unsuspecting grom and looked him right in the eye “Did you think I was not going to catch it?”.  He responded “No”.  “Then why the fuck did you paddle me then?” I replied and I splashed water in his face, the most degrading thing one surfer can do to another in a lineup confrontation and usually when a fight breaks out.  “You know me, I surf with you all the time and you know I don’t miss the waves I paddle for.  Don’t paddle me! I don’t paddle you!” He had a stunned look on his face.  So did I.

I caught the very next wave and went in disgusted with myself for such behavior.  The kid made a common mistake and he was after all a kid, but I was over it. Then again when I was a kid I would not have even thought about paddling a guy who had been surfing longer then I was alive.  The pecking order in today’s lineups has really fallen apart, but that is a blog for another day.  Mostly I was angry at myself cause I ruined this little kid’s stoke for the day and probably put some fear into him about lineup etiquette making him over cautious for a while.

Five days ago I was out having a ball with my fellow surfers, hooting and hollering.  Everyone was stoked and life was great.  Today I wished I had a water proof uzi so I could have mowed down 3/4’s of the lineup.  When you want to know why surfing ruined my life just mull that over for a while. Surfing sucks don’t try it.

Better then Sex

Life is just better in the barrel. This is a very old shot, but a great one.

“Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!”  I screamed as I cruised through a solid over head draining barrel coming out dry hair.  It was one of the many I had gotten.  My buddy Brennan shouted back watching the whole thing go down from the bank he was sitting on.  I came off the back shook the water off my hair and paddled over to Brennan.  “Its all time out here man” I said.  “I knew you were going to say something like that” he replied smiling.  “You know Brennan for me I would take a day of surfing like this over a night of sex with the hottest woman in the world” as I laughed in naivete jubilee.

Brennan opened his mouth to say something but before he could I was already paddling down the beach positioning for my next wave another kegger followed by a giant full rotation frontside ally-oop stuck cleanly to the gaping mouths of the two kids surfing the peak adjacent.  Everyone had this shit eating grin on their faces out there.  Why shouldn’t we?  After all it was solid 4-6+ft clean, hucking tubes and only six of us out there sharing eight different perfect peaks.

It was after 12pm too which made no sense at all because the River Mouth always blows out by 10.  My boys Brennan and Christian decided last minute to high tail it down to the Barb from SF for a stag romp chuck full of Lisanity and they definitely got what they bargained for.  We went to some janky Montecito garage sale where I scored a pair of binoculars and a copy of Camus’ The Stranger, one of my favorite short stories, and a vintage 1960’s California surf guide for 11 dollars.  Brennan picked up this crazy shirt with people dancing on it.  Christian scored some multi use pocket tool he kept bragging about.

Prior to that we had a good old fun night of drunken debauchery at the Wild Cat upon their arrival.  At that moment sitting there in the line up thanking the stars for allowing me to have such a great session nothing else mattered. My mind was clear and all I  could think about was my next wave and how much fun I was having.  How much fun everyone was having.  Surfing can be such a drag with bad conditions, excessive crowds etc, so much that it begins to cloud the reason why you do it in the first place.  Then a session like this happens and everyone out there is super stoked hooting and hollering like groms again.

I did not know anyone out there with me besides Brennan and I was as stoked to watch the other guys get amazing rides as much as getting them myself.  Everyone was just laughing and talking and having a gay old time.  Add a crowd of around 60 guys and less then stellar conditions and it would have been a totally different story.  Instead of stoked on one another we would have been grumbling, giving dirty looks, trying to be intimidating all because that guy sitting next to you, your brother may get the next set wave you had been waiting for the last half hour.

Unfortunately in our highly urbanized population sprawled southern California society the latter and not the former is the case more times then not.  It begins to wear you down.  I am not going to lie the world around me, “the real world” not Lisanti Land has been starting to take a serious toll on my psyche as of late.  Things didn’t work out at my new job.  My roommate Danny whom I really was starting to be very pleased with living here let me know he is moving.  My finances are in less then great shape as well at the moment.  Even my tireless quest to find love again has all amounted to more stress then I ever like to have.

By the weekend I was worn down.  I had not had a fun surf in nearly a week either which did not help things any.  Already in great spirits thanks to the arrival of my friends the surf was just the icing on the cake.  It was an amazing beach day as well.  It almost never happens that the wind, weather and waves all work together to create a perfect day.  I know surfing is all about the waves and conditions but there is something about surfing when the sun is out and people are enjoying the beach that just feels so right.

We were lucky to sneak in about two solid hours of surfing till the wind finally came up and trashed it.  I was fine with that cause I had gotten way more then I could have ever expected or hoped for.  That is one of the finer things in life, when you are thrown a brief lull in the midst of a terrible storm.  I could not have asked for anything more this weekend then to spend it with some of my better friends enjoying every moment.  After the surf we got food at my favorite Thai place in Santa Barbara. “Your Place”.

I was pleased since I almost never get to enjoy a meal out anymore. I think the last time I ate at “Your Place” was with Kooky back in March.  From there it was home for a little R&R before gaming up for another romp on the town.  It was another night that did not disappoint.  We talked to some ladies, did some dancing, Brennan found and lost the girl of his dreams.  I ran into my old friend Britters who was in town for a wedding and she was always one of my favorite gals to party with back in the day.  It was almost like a reunion of sorts for all of us remembering a time a few years ago when our lives were a bit more simple.

Things are constantly moving forward at at such a rapid pace that we lose sight of where we are going and even forget where we have been.  Every so often I like to stop and have a look back.  I think its hard to remember the direction we are trying to go with out taking a look at where we have been.

The stuff that makes life worth living…

Shredding

My second installment in this Groovin’ High series of people who inspire me to wail on the saxophone is none other then my favorite saxophonist of all time, Kenny Garrett.  Before I go on I want to clarify that in this series I am going to feature artists that are still alive and creating new music today.  The jazz cats who are on the scene right now.  There are plenty of guys from the past who helped shaped me into the player I am and I may run that theme at some point as well.  For this succession I am sticking with the players who are turning heads right now.

Kenny Garrett is in my opinion the best altoist I have ever gotten to hear play the instrument.  I have had the privilege of seeing him multiple times in concert and have never failed to be impressed.  If you have never heard jazz live before and have the opportunity to catch a Kenny Garrett show I implore you to check it out.  Whether a jazz fan or not I believe you will walk out in awe.  I brought this classical flutist I was seeing back when I went to Berklee to hear him play.

She was one of these conservatory snobs over at North Eastern. I met her at some frat party over at Boston University.  We were both fish out of water at the thing so it was only obvious that we gravitated towards one another.  As it turns out she was a nut job eventually stalking me for nearly I year after we had broken up.  She was always down on the musicianship of a jazz group.   After hearing Garrett she never had anything to say again.  I took my Dad to one of his shows as well and he too walked out stunned.  The guy is that good.  What else would you expect from a man who played in both Duke Ellington’s and Miles Davis’ last band.

Lets talk a bit about the tune and the album.  “Lonnie’s Lament” is a tune originally written and performed by John Coltrane on the album Crescent and was in the midst of his more avante gaurde recordings.  The important thing to consider musically about Lonnie’s Lament is the fact that  it is a modal tune that incorporates a complex V’s pattern in the chord progression allowing for more interesting improvisation where as in many modal tunes such as “Foot Prints” or “Equinox” the changes can get rather stagnant for the improviser.

The tune can also open the argument that Modal tunes are suppose to be left simplistic to allow for more freedom in one’s improvisation.  What I can say is Lonnie’s Lament is a tough to tune to blow over, but once you figure it out playing on it becomes addictive and its not uncommon to hear a soloist take an excessive amount of choruses as a result.  I know I am good for at least ten before my band would pull the hook on me.  I think most saxophonists on the whole are refrain hogs.  I once saw Sonny Rollins blow fifties choruses of one of his tunes for his solo, then blew on it again after each of his band members took their solos.  I think they played that song for almost 25 minutes.

Lonnie’s Lament is off his 2006 release Pursuance: The Music of John Coltrane.  At first I was uneasy to purchase a tribute album my reasoning being if I want to hear the music of John Coltrane I will just listen to John Coltrane.  In my quest to listen to every track ever played by Garrett I decided to give the album a shot.  I was blown away.  Guitarist Pat Metheny joins him on this collaboration.  Metheny is another one of these players that influence me and will most likely be featured in his own blog at some point.

The two of them burn on the album but really flow in this tune.  Their duel at the end of the song is so fucking hot.  I could go on and on but instead all I am going to say is listen to it…

Then if your enticed please listen to this solo of his from his days with Miles.  This tune is “Human Nature”, Miles’ cover of the Micheal Jackson hit.  It’s a live recording and it really shows how explosive Kenny Garrett really is live.  The solo starts at 3:16 and runs till the end of the track.  I recommend listening to the solo in its entirety.  He locks in so tight with the band towards the end it will have you in an uproar.

In the land of the right there exists at least one goofy foot’s last stand.

This week’s UCB makes a winner out of Mauriello taking a break from giving out lessons in good morals and instead throwing down good UCB topics.  He asked I write about a certain little wave that both of us have a spot for in our heart.  A surfing spot like none other.  One that has teeth, one that has its own certain charm of gnarl in and out of the water, a surfers surf spot, Santa Clara River Mouth in Ventura California.   I have decided the best way to explain this place is by giving you a run down of an average summer morning for me.

Summertime

An fun looking morning at the River Mouth

 

River Mouth (that is what the locals call the break) is located about a 45 minute drive south of my home here in Santa Barbara.  On a nautical map it exists a few feet below sea level and sticks out a bit further then most beaches in the area allowing it to pull in swell from all angles and then amplify its intensity thanks to the bottom.  In the Late Spring, Summertime and early fall River Mouth goes off courtesy of south swells that sweep down the beach and usually barrel.  Even if its not hallow the waves still throw out like a mother fucker.  On just the right swell angle the place can almost break like a pseudo left hand point break.

In the summer I have to get up pretty early if I want to score the place without wind.  Although Ventura Harbor, where the River Mouth is located is a swell magnet its also a wind magnet.  Usually by 10 am the wind will get on it and by noon the surf is completely blown out.  River Mouth is not one of those waves that you can surf when its windy.  Most of time it gets so messed up getting a ride is impossible.

My first alarm goes off at around 6am.  I like to call this alarm my ambitious alarm.  It was the time I used be to stoked to get up and surf at when I was really fit and living the surfing lifestyle.  These days I hit the fuck you button usually because I am fighting off a hangover from the night before.  The next alarm goes off at 7am, but usually I field at least two calls from creditors before who I owe money to since my pro surfing career went up in smoke back in 2008.  I mean seriously who would extend a $10,000 credit line to a guy who barely made $20,000 a year?  I think if your that stupid you get what is coming to  you.   My credit rating is fucked for life at this point anyway so I say suck it. Thanks for the wake up call though.

At seven I poke my head out of the covers, but summertime is also fog season meaning more days then not its all grey, damp, cold and nasty out.  This makes getting out of bed rather difficult.  Usually I crawl back under the covers for a spell till Alfie decides he wants breakfast and is all over me meowing, clawing my face, licking my face, basically letting me know if I don’t get up and feed his ass soon I am going to be his breakfast.  Not wanting to be eaten I usually comply by 7:30 unless I’m really hung over and then its every man and beast for themselves.  If I am really hung over it means I drank enough to kill most human beings and I feel so sick that I hope Alfie will eat me alive.

By eight I am finally out of bed.  I pull out my computer and check the buoy readings to see what the day is going to have in store for me.  Driving to River Mouth costs me around $10 in gas round trip so I like to make sure I am actually going to be able to surf.  I am not going to give away the readings I look for cause it took me years to figure that out and it is something that has to be earned.   If things look appealing to me.  I pack my board, suit, booties, fill up my water bottle, grab a banana, brush my teeth then cruise. Usually I hit my boy Ryan up to let him know I am coming if he has yet to get me a surf report.

On the way down I let my ipod shuffle take over.  I skip all the slow tunes only stopping at pump up music.  As I am coming up the hill past Sharks Cove in Montecito I do the look back of death.  Ofcourse it’s flat.  It is summertime and there is no way there is enough north west to break the place.  It is one of my favorite waves so I can’t help but pretend just for a moment that it could be going off.  As I drive by Summerland I check the beachie down there and although too small to surf it is a good indicator of the swell angle.  If things look good there I may pick up the pace.

Then when I get to Carpinteria Santa Clause Lane becomes my next indicator.  This is more or less for both wind and swell size.  If its at least knee high there I know River Mouth will have chest high sets.  If things look good there I pick up the pace even harder.  By this point I am cruising at 80mph weaving in and out of traffic pretending I am in the movie “Ronin” most likely singing at the top of my lungs to whatever music I am blaring.  I have the heat blaring as well cause I hate to be cold before a surf.  It just puts a damper on the whole thing.

Nothing like brown water to make you feel safe and healthy and remind me of home.

At this point my boy Ryan has most likely gotten back to me on what’s up.  His intel is very important cause I have to make a decision once I am past Rincon and La Conchita if I should exit at Sea Cliffs and go surf Emma Wood or continue on to River Mouth.  Rincon and La Conchita are also good indicators as well.  By this point I start getting sleepy and have to pinch myself, pull leg hair, pluck eye brows, whatever it takes to not fall asleep behind the wheel ending up flipped in a ditch somewhere.

Rincon can be a good indicator too if the left up top is breaking.  From there I drive past Stanley’s, Hobsons, Trailers, Father John’s and Pitas. There are usually terrible little waves along all these spots that come winter can be all time. Pitas actually does get south swell it just does not break well on them.  From there I pass the palm tree nursery before getting sight of both the Gold Coast and Emma Wood.  This is the moment of truth right here.  If there are waves at Gold Coast then there are definitely waves at River Mouth.

I drive past Emma Wood and laugh at the near thirty guy crowd.  South of Emma is Ventura Campgrounds or the top of the point at Cstreet.  Depending on how this spot looks I can pretty much tell with absolute certainty if I am going to score.  I always make sure to flip off Cstreet on the way by cause I hate that wave.  I get through the town of Ventura and the stub jetties of the state beaches and Pierpont come into view and always entice me with their siren song of waves that always look good from far but are far from good.

Finally I exit off the 101 and work my way to the Harbor at this point whatever direction those flags are blowing will make or break my morning.  If they are slack then its going to be glassy.  Usually they are blowing north west.  I pull into the Harbor and drive north toward the dunes.  I park in front of the highest dunes that are located halfway between New Jetty and the Surfers Knoll.  From up there I can see all the breaks of Ventura harbor and decide where I want to surf.

My surf check dune.

This dune and I have developed a very personal relationship over the years.  It has seen me jump for joy, cower in fear, vomit from the night before, drop to my knees and cry back when Adrienne and I first broke up.  I have taken many of pisses up there.  There is five years worth of decomposing banana peels up there because I eat my banana while checking the surf.  I have thrown a few angry tantrums up there.  Like I said its my dune.  I once whipped Mauriello really hard with a long dune grass vine and got all mad about it.  In consolation I whipped myself just as hard and he was right it hurt like hell.  I think we both had welts from the whipping for a week or so.

This mornings banana discard.

Looking North you have New Jetty and the far big jetty is South Jetty a wedgey right that almost never breaks and when it does is super hard to surf. New Jetty is one of my favorite waves in the area but unfortunately due to poor sand distribution it has been a deep hole all season.

This is looking south from the dunes. The closest wave is called Surfers Knoll which can be really fun in the late winter early spring, but usually too washy in the summer. Past that is the River Mouth sand bars which stretch about a mile or so south till you get to McGrath State Beach.

If I decide I am surfing River Mouth I repark  my car either in the Knoll lot if it is a week day and uncrowded or in the marina lot across the street if I am looking to be low pro and stealth.  The funny thing about parking in the marina lot is that there are all these no beach parking signs, but everyone parks there any way and they are not “strictly enforced”.  I also like to park in the Marina lot cause there are less crack heads, meth heads, bums and heroin addicts hanging around there.  My old photographer Dave and I once saw the cops come arrest this crack head in the Knoll lot.

It was pretty funny.  The dude broke free and took off to the bath room and flushed his stash.  When he came out there were six cops guns drawn.  Then they took him down with very excessive force.  He made some really strange grunt like squeal when then tackled him to the pavement then bashed his head.  There are robberies in the knoll lot at least once a week if not more.  I just try and stay out of that parking lot.  I have been robbed three times there.  It has gotten to the point where I have hallowed out a spot underneath my driver seat where I stash my phone, Ipod and money.  Its not quite north shore bad where you have to leave your windows down and your car open so they wont get smashed, but there is for sure a large number of degenerates who coagulate in that vicinity.

“Strictly Enforced” ha, the harbor patrol is too busy busting crack heads to worry about parking issues.

There are always sketchy things going on in the parking lot and in the marsh reeds that line the river mouth.  From what I have been told there is pretty much an entire bum civilization back there who feed off all the dead marine life and sea birds that constantly line the beach.  I literally saw five dead birds there today.  Four pelicans and duck.  Last year there were tons of dead seals all over the beach and I once saw a dead dolphin as well.  All the currents flow towards that place and the water quality is far from ideal.

Bum food…another one bites the dust…

Usually I surf a section of sand bars called the Reeds just before the actual river mouth.  I always seem to get my best waves there and its easy to line yourself up because you either sit on the north, south or middle of the reeds.  It is also a bit of a hike from the parking lot and most don’t bother to walk past the first few sand bars.

This is the reeds I like to line up with. Behind those reeds is Bumville.

Sometimes the banks further south in front of the River Mouth can be better on long period swell.  If your willing to walk that far you can be sure to beat most of the crowd.

Hmmm whats that in the far left corner you ask? Let me answer: A power plant and an oil field. Oxnard is a beautiful place.

The Tar

The 805 is constantly riddled with an abundance of tar that naturally and most likely not so naturally courtesy of all the oil rigs seeps up from the ocean floor, coagulates into balls and finds its way to the beaches.  River Mouth is one of those beaches that is especially bad.  Once on the beach the tar heats up from the sun and becomes a gooey mess just waiting for you to step in it.  I have giant tar stains on just about everything I own.  My boards are constantly riddled with the brown mess.  As a matter of fact I stepped in a nice ball of tar yesterday before my session.  

Currently my wax is all black and gooey with tar.  The only way to get tar off is with baby oil which works fine, but also makes the shower floor slippery as hell.  I once went down head over heels nearly hitting my head on the tub faucet.  That would be a really shitty way to be found dead naked on the bottom of the tub in a puddle of blood and baby oil.  The authorities would with out a doubt claim I went out in a crazy freak masturbation mishap.  

Winter Time

In the winter its a whole different ball game out there.

Winter is not really River Mouth’s best season.  For the most part the swell direction of the NW’s seem to just come into there as one giant close out as far as the eye can see.  The water is freezing, colder then any other spot in the area and there is no one around.  Even the bums hunker down for the most part.  The only upside to winter is the Off shores.  Ventura Harbor really kind of is the start of the flat plain that runs all the way till Mugu and as a result hard offshore wind sweeps across the open space grooming the surf.  

You know the winds are going to be good if all you can smell is manure from the fields.  Yeah it stinks but the air in the barrel is always nice.  On the whole even with the winds it is still very closed out and usually on a swell anywhere from double to triple over head and stacked as far as you can see.  If your getting out there you are going to take a serious beating.  You will get pitted, but it will most likely just be a big close out tube.  This is the place where the term PGCB (perfectly good closed out barrels) was coined.  You can read more about that in my “I Heart PGCB’s” blog.  It makes for good wide angle barrel photos except for the fact that the current is so bad out there its nearly impossible to stay with your photog.  Dave and I had many of frustrating sessions where we were both getting worked super hard and did not get one decent shot out of it. 

Usually by late winter some really good sand bars can set up more near the knoll and upper River Mouth.  If it is the right swell with the right tide and the wind is offshore you will get some of the best sessions of your life.  I have had some really amazing session on such.  It can be really frustrating too though if you get there too late.  Lots of times those sand bars only turn on for a few hours at best and if you get it at the end of the window you may get one or two amazing ones and then just be back in close out land.  The rips are really bad on theses bars as well.  You will spend the entire session paddling.  

If your diligent and you get first dibs on a good bank you will have it to yourself for maybe a day or two.  Once word gets out all of Ventura, Oxnard and Santa Barbara will be there.  On the whole these bars only last for a few days anyway before the wind goes bad or too big of a swell comes in and tears it apart.  When it happens it can be all time, as good as anyplace.  Here is a video of possibly the best the River Mouth has ever been courtesy of just the right swell angle, wind, rain and sand. It happened in 2005.  I was lucky enough to get two days of this cause I just happened to be here picking up some boards from Jason Feist over at J7 surfboards.

The reality of the winter is more times then not its nothing more then a big close out and if I am going to drive that far I am most likely going to go surf Hollywood or Oxnard Shores where the banks are a bit better that time of year.  The water quality is very poor in winter due to all the rain run off.

Opening the Mouth

The really cool thing about River Mouth is the fact that it is one of the few unfortified river mouths in a heavily populated area.  There are no jetties or controls on it of any kind.  The water flows under the sand naturally allowing for tons of great banks to get created.  On occasion as a result of heavy rain fall it will burst open and when it does great sand can be created.  That does not always happen.  Sometimes it opens and throws out too much sand ruining the spot for weeks.  If it opens and there is not a good swell direction or bad wind the bars wont form good.  This year we got screwed double.  First the mouth opened up way too far to the south and second when they dredged the harbor, which they do every year the sand from that got badly dispersed completely ruining New Jetty for the entire spring, summer and most likely fall season.

Forget about water quality when it opens.  I have had so many bad sinus infections, diarrhea, fevers and other complications as a direct result of surfing in the black water that is created when it opens.  There ends up being dead frogs, fish, birds, tons of trash that all floats out a river that flows for miles inland.  The pesticide run off from all the farms is intense.  We refer to surfing there during such times as “Brown Town”.  Its pretty disgusting.  If its on its totally worth the chance of contracting Hepatitis though.   

For a while a bunch of locals would get together before a swell and actually dig out the mouth to make good sand.  About three years ago Robert from Roberts Surfboards used to rally the troops to dig it out for every good south swell.  That was one of the best spring/summer seasons out there ever.  Even the fall was sick thanks to all the good sand.  I guess the harbor patrol cracked down on it and the last crew to attempt it got arrested and fined.  I don’t think there has been a dig out attempt since.  In the summer and fall it doesn’t rain so its not going to naturally open.

This barrel was a direct result of a man made river mouth opening. Thanks boys, this day was one of the best I ever had out there. Fall 2010 https://surfingruinedmylife.net/surf-log/2010-sessions/october-10/ 10-29-10 entry.

There you have it, my home away from home Santa Clara River Mouth.  I am sure I just pissed off everyone in the 805 for writing this.  You know what I don’t give a fuck. I am there nearly everyday all summer long and surf the place in both the good, the bad and the ugly.  Its a tough wave to surf.  I would not recommend it to beginners, but more moderate to experts.  There are usually tough currents and rip tides so if your not a strong paddler/swimmer drowning can be an issue.  Its an unprotected beach and out at the River Mouth there is not many people around so getting you medical help will take longer then most spots.

The wave itself is very heavy and even on a two foot day can pack a punch.  I have broken six boards there, creased a handful more and taken some heavy wipe outs.  It is sharky too as any river mouth can be.  Although I have never had an encounter I have heard stories and most of the larger marine mammals that wash up dead on the beach have giant bites taken out from them.  Half seals are not uncommon to see.  The water is murky thus confusing the men in grey suits.  

River Mouth is an acquired taste suited to the elite hard core surfer.  If your dedicated you will score.  If you read this and are stoked to come down for a surf good on ya.  I will gladly hoot you into a wave.  Please show respect and don’t pull up with a van full of dudes like a certain Santa Barbara surf school has been doing.  At Santa Clara the rule of two is in full effect.  Follow the code and I will be more then stoked to get tubed with you.

The lay of the land just to give you an idea of what we are talking about. I took this during a solid south swell last Summer 2011.

This is Christy’s my favorite janky luncheonette in Ventura located right across the street from the River Mouth parking lot. This place is rad all the tables have collages of pictures of their customers under glass. Kooky and I wanted to go put a picture of us under the glass. I still may. Waitresses are surly, customers strange and food incredible. I have ended more then one session there. Yum!

Its not all sunshine and roses out here. If you don’t like mornings then this is what you will be greeted with usually by 11am everyday if not earlier.

This is two trees in Ventura California and where I took that aerial photo of River Mouth. I had been surfing there for years looking back a these trees and always wanted to go up there. Finally I did some exploring and found my way up to them. Its really cool cause from that vantage you can see all the way to Pt.Mugu in the south and Emma Wood in the North. I met some old guy the last time I was there and he said the trees were planted in the late 1800’s so Mariners could find the way to the harbor. Its really cool there and a nice hike. I do it regularly.

Cant afford Christy’s no worries there is plenty of good eating up and down the beach. Looks like someone has already been gnawing on this guy though. Don’t fret I’m sure there are plenty of other dead animals with in striking distance of this unfortunate.


Then man Killing it…

Now that I am writing again, I know its pretty amazing isn’t it?  I don’t really know what gave me the sudden angst to get the mind working again, but I’m back baby!  There are only another six weeks left in the Summer of Alf.  At the moment I have not decided if it was total flop or semi-success story.  I guess we will all just have to wait another six weeks to find out.  For the remainder of the Summer of Alf I have decided that every week I will post a Groovin’ High of what I really consider great music and more then that great music played, written and performed by masterful musicians.

These are the people that inspire me to play the saxophone on a higher level and constantly allow the bar to continue to be raised.  I feel on the whole most of what I post here in Groovin’ High are decent songs by decent artist.  Usually I pick a song by how it pertains to my life at that moment.  For me music has always been more of a stream of consciousness then just something to fill space or a vehicle for dance.  The next six weeks I will spot light six tunes by six artists that have helped shape me into the person and artist I have become.  If this is not your particular genre listen anyway and keep an open mind.  When “Call Me Maybe” is top on the American music charts I think it is time to give a comparison on what skilled artists are doing.

The first song in this installment is “Of Things to Come” by Stefon Harris and it appears on his Black Action Hero album.  He released it in 1999 and it found its way into my hands in 2000.  I have always been a huge fan of the vibraphone enjoying the likes of Milt Jackson and Roy Ayers.  I came across a very interesting write up in a Jazz magazine about this young vibes player who was combining contemporary jazz, R&B, Soul,Hip Hop and Jungle beats to create a very distinctive sound.  The description alone was enough to get my purchase.  I love the jungle work done by Dizzy Gillespie back in the 60’s.

“Of Things to Come” was the first song to really catch my attention on the album.  I was already blown away by the playing, but had yet to hear anything that really grabbed me.  Then this track came on and I was mesmerized.  I think I played this one on loop for nearly a month after hearing it.  I own another five albums, four solo and one collaboration by Stefon and I must say I am truly impressed.  I would have to put him as my favorite vibraphonist and in my top ten favorite Jazz Musicians.

The band on this are no slouches either.  Every player is masterful.  Greg Osby is playing Alto Saxophone and he also is at the moment one of the hottest jazz altoist on the market.  Listen to the infliction of his solo on this track.  The guy fucking burns.  On trombone you have one of my former jazz mentors, Steve Turre, who in his own right may be the best living Latin jazz trombonist at the moment.  I have had the opportunity to perform with Mr. Turre a few times in my life and if you think he blows on the trombone you need to hear what he can do with a conch shell.   As for the rest of the group they kill it too although I am unfamiliar with any of those cats.

I could go on and on about this tune but I would rather have you just listen to it.  Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts on the song, the playing, the style, or even the new direction of Groonin’ High in the comments.  I am always stoked for feedback.

Now Listen to this and tell me there is not a big difference in musicality.  If you can’t understand the difference please stop reading my blog.

“Before you came into my life I missed you so bad…So Call Me Maybe”  Now if that is not great American song writing I don’t know what is.  Rodgers and Hart, Gershwin, you guys have nothing on this tune! FTW…

The first UCB of the quarter goes to, surprise, suprise none other then Kooky Kyle.  The man the myth, the UCB Legend.  A man who’s obscene head of hair in its massive lusciousness ate a hair net.  Shit that thing may have eaten a small fucking child at one point.  He posed the topic: Who do I think Alfie misses the most?  For his efforts he gets 1.5pts and he also nailed a bonus question in the surflog earning him one bonus point.  The kid already is starting out with 2.5pts.  Don’t let him walk away with another quarter and thus another victory.  The kid is already a member of the Lisanti royal court and has a passport to Lisanti Land.  Step it up people there are eight more weeks in this quarter, two Power of Tens up for grabs and at least ten bonus points currently floating around.

Hide the wife, hide the kids, Kooky’s hair is loose.

Alfie as if you did not follow this blog is my disgruntled little bastard of a black cat that happens to be my black cat, my personal cross to bear, my proverbial blue ox so to speak.  If an animal could consciously commit suicide I think Alfie would have ended his miserable existence two years ago.  Shit the cat was addicted to heroin for like six months, but since has weened off it very nice and looks like a normal cat again.  As my buddy West put it back in December “That cat will haunt my dreams for eternity”.  West’s Adventure Tour got really out of hand you can read about it here: Part I, Part II, Part III.  There are a ton of new people here as of late and if you missed these three gems it is some serious entertainment and shows just exactly how out of control a Lisanti Adventure can get.  Just ask Micheala who almost killed me and is coming back for round two in just a few short weeks.

I guess the best way to go about this is to give a quick history on Alfie’s background.  He started off in Lincroft, New Jersey where he was born an ally cat and abandoned by his mother in the middle of a terrible blizzard.  My mother’s friend John saved the litter from near death and nursed them back to health.  He did not want a litter of kittens already having too my cats of his own.  My mother convinced my ex-wife Sindia and I into taking one.  We did and Alfie had a happy home.  A year later we adopted another cat from the same mother, black also, Alfie’s Step brother Turtle, circa 2003?  Maybe Sindia can shed some light on the time table if she ever reads this.

Alfie and Turtle Circa 05


The four of us lived very happily for a couple of years in this dilapidated little beach bungalow Sindia and I rented from my parents for $500 a month.  The place was haggard and really tiny but life was really good there.  Now that I am older looking back those may have been the best few years of my life.  I think Sindia may feel the same.  Things were very simple back then.  It literally was my “Walden”.  There were wild parties, late night skate sessions on the ghetto backyard half pipe, swims off the dock, wild ducks, horseshoe crabs, crazy old lady neighbors, and lots and lots of surfing.

One of those awesome backyard sessions at the Bungalow.

Times changed and my parents decided to build another “dream house” of theirs on the lot where my bungalow existed.  The place was scheduled for demolition and just before I threw a sledge hammer party that nearly ended in the death of all its participants when Bojangles and I knocked out the main support to the roof.  I wrote a rather good blog about such back in the Myspace.com days.  If someone goes and finds it and posts the entire blog in the comments, not just the link but the actually text I will give you three extra points.  Click here to start your search.

From there we moved to a really nice colonial duplex in Spring Lake, NJ.  My marriage was on some serious thin ice between my constant traveling for surfing, her constant traveling for science and finishing her PHD in Chemical Oceanography things just were not as they were.  The cats could sense it.  We took in this crazy guy Jason as a roommate who was highly recommended by my asshole friend Adam.  Turns out the guy was a complete nut job and that is saying a lot since I walk a very fine line of sanity myself.  We also had this roommate Crystal who worked as a veterinarian’s assistant and as a result had like thirty different pets in her room.  She had this cage of ferrets that should let out and they would just reek havoc on Alfie.

The little fucks would back him into a corner and then just bring him down.  It was terrible but really funny at the same time.  Turtle on the other hand would not even come out from under the bed.  I came home from a surf trip and she had pets every where, there was a chick and a duck in my bath tube.  The place smelled like a farm. She had to go.  Crazy Jason threatened me with violence as he threw the cats’ litter box out of the second story window.  He had to go.  I don’t think Alfie missed either of them all that much.

Then there was this polish immigrant, Conrad living there, who actually really liked Alfie and this marble cutter, Dave, who chain smoked cigarettes and bud all day long renting the place, while I was traveling all over to trying and make it in surfing and Sindia had moved to Australia.  Meanwhile both cats were under Conrad’s care.  I was in Santa Barbara by this time and I got reports that things were not going so well for my cats back in NJ.  As a result I flew home and closed up shop there, had the cats shipped to California and was done with it.  I do not think he missed those guys either.  

I picked up two very bewildered Cats up at the LAX loading docks a few weeks later and brought them to what is now the current Lisanti Palace.  At the time gay Lucas the giant was living here and I don’t believe him or Alfie gave a shit about one another.  Then Brennan and I moved in together.  He  lost my cats in a drunken pass out mishap.  Alfie returned shortly while Turtle after many failed capture attempts was never to be seen again.  You can read about that adventure in The Great Escape from Mission Street. I think Alfie may have been fond of Brennan cause he got rid of Turtle for him and I believe Alfie never cared for that sorry excuse of a cat anyway.  With any luck Turtle got devoured by a coyote.  

Then Alf and I moved back to the Lisanti Palace although at that time it was under the reign of my former roommate and brother from another mother Cory.  Although allergic to felines Cory had no problem with Alfie and since he did nothing but sit around on the couch and drink beer all day I think the two of them got along famously.  After Cory, Adrienne moved in.  She payed a ton of attention to him and the waste of space she was spend the bulk of her weekends just sitting around on the couch from what I have been told staring at the walls.  Alfie loves a good friend on the couch.  

Ades brought this bullshit kitten I so endearingly called Mustafa since she never named him. I think she still actually calls him Kitty.  Real creative you stupid bitch. Yeah I am having one of those weeks so deal with it.  Mustafa terrorized the shit out of Alfie and wrecked my apartment.  Shortly after, Ades decided she liked short fat bald old guys better then me, yet failed to inform me of that decision ultimately ending things in a mess.  The event leaving me in my current state of rapture.  Alfie definitely did not miss Mustafa.  He did miss Adrienne a bit.  

Mauriello lived here briefly but he used to fuck with Alfie all the time so I am pretty sure Alfie was not all that broken up about his departure.  Heroin Bryan was never around all that much so I am sure Alf did not care a bit about him.  Sleepy Time Nick helped Alfie get his dope so he probably misses him a bit.  Rye Guy who occupied the couch for like four months was pretty kind to Alfie.  Alfie loved kooky Kyle and never left that dudes side the whole time he was out here. I think he likes Danny my new roommate since Dan has an affinity with picking all of Alfie’s flea bite scabs.  Charlie Sean got along famously with the alfster as well.

So who does Alfie miss the most after all that?  My first thought would have been Sindia.  Then on further thought I doubt he even remembers her.  Its been over five years.  I barely remember her.  If I keep drinking the way I am I should be able to erase every trace.  Its sort of like “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”.   In all seriousness I really did love my ex-wife and we had some amazing times I hope to never forget.  

Alfie misses me the most.  That’s right.  When I am at work or away for a few days all he does is walk around the house crying.  When I come home from work he is sitting in front of the door waiting for me even if Dan has already fed him.  As I write this he is happily sitting on my lap.  You know why?  Cause after all these years I have stood by him.  I took care of him and always gave him a home.  He knows with me he will always be safe and he respects such loyalty.  You can say lots of bad things about me but the one thing you cant shake a stick at is the extent I will go to take care of and protect the ones I love.

Alfie eternally standing by my side just like Sir Gawain in “The Knight with the Lion” One of my all time favorite King Arthur tales.

 

That’s right folks the real Chris Lisanti is back. Some peeping Tom must have shot a picture of me getting out of the water after a recent surf. No privacy ever, damn smart phones. This picture was probably all over some Japanese persons twitter…

Remember when I used rant and rave on here about all kinds of stupidity?  I do.  Then I tried to be a “nice guy” and “positive” and guess what things got really fucking pathetic, then really fucking boring.  Finally I almost gave up on blogging altogether.  Last week I realized its time to end the charade and face the facts.  I am at 31 years old a bitter, surly, antagonistic, hedonistic, narcissistic,  egotistic, pretentious prick of an asshole.  I believe that most likely sucks worse then monkey cock, although most of you know my feelings of complete abhorrence to such.  What I am trying to say is “NO MORE MR. NICE GUY”.

The old vindictive Chris Lisanti is back and ready to sound off on anything from Midgets, to government, to religion, to gender relations, to racial issues, you name it I am going to tear it apart.  Everything I say will just as it used to be, be based entirely on angry bias and opinion with little to no more fact than I found in the National Enquirer, The New York Post (my grandfather’s favorite News Paper God rest his soul.  Now there was a hateful little Italian man to even rival me) The Sun Times and finally People Magazine Style Watch cause I think by now everyone knows how I feel about clothing.  In celebration of finding the real Chris Lisanti all over again and realizing that the only time I am truly happy is when I am angry at least each month I will post a blog on the angry revelations I have had during that time period.

National Health Care, I.E. Obama Care

Here is something I have held my tongue on for a while opting to wait till I had all the facts before sounding off on. Then I realized that was never going to happen cause none of my favorite internet porn sites, even the grandma porn ones where you think that sort of thing would be an important topic, have covered the issue.  I am going to have to go by the little bit of miss-information I have picked up from many different people’s Facebook.com statuses.  For starters I have no money and live so far below the poverty level its not even funny.

Wait; not far enough to receive welfare or food stamps that is why I am in the process of adopting a teenager.  Apparently being a single parent I could receive over $4,000 a month in government support.  That’s more then I make at my current job.  I do not really know how this new bill will affect me anyway.  Right now when I am in need of medical attention I go to my cat Alfie and have him lick the wound till all the bacteria in his mouth transfers into the cut causing the blood to clot.  If that fails I turn to Rambo Tactics.  You know that scene where he sticks the hot poker into his gun shot wound to close it up.  If you don’t here it is:

I don’t vote.  I don’t watch the news.  I have not read a decent News Paper since I found one in the trash and read it out of boredom when I worked at the gas station.  What I do know is if I hear one more person bitch about how universal health care is a bad thing I will beat him so fucking bad he will be in need of some of that health care he is so angry about.  Here is one fact I do have.  I have been to third world countries where it was easier to see a doctor and get medical help with out any money or insurance then it is in America.  In America your lucky if the the night janitor will put some duct tape on your stab wound in the parking lot if you do not have insurance.  Ever have bronchitis for two months cause you could not afford Antibiotics?  I have…

It took Alfie nearly three days of hard licking to get this cut on my foot to close up. I got a universal health care plan for America…Annoying pet black cats for everyone.

Gasoline Prices

So I noticed the price of petroleum climbed about ten cents right as my tank was about to hit empty.  I don’t really know how that price is determined but I do know it really pissed me off when I could have gotten gas three days ago for ten cents less.  Shit in a 12 gallon tank I could have saved a buck twenty which means I would be just 25cents short of a Big Mac on Mac Mondays.  Fucking towel heads and their oil bull shit.  I am going to invent a car that runs on my semen.  Then when I start running low on gas I will just rub one out into my gas tank.   Filling up will never be more fun.

Why Alcohol has to be bad for Me

I don’t know if there is a God or not, but if so fuck him.  Why would you put a substance as wonderful as alcohol on this earth and then make harmful to the very species that enjoys consuming it?  I know it pisses the fuck out of me.  For a long time I barely drank, but courtesy of a lack of self control, California, Santa Barbara and the female species on a whole I have become a functioning alcoholic and it really makes me angry to watch the adverse effects such has had on my brain, body and life in general.  Whatever I really did not want to live forever anyway or to the age of 50.  After all do I really want to become one of the those old guys with shriveled up figs and a saggy ass.  Maybe, since I have lost the last three women I was involved with to such dudes.

The Lie that is Sunny California Summers

Let me enlighten everyone out there who may fantasize about the wonderful sunny warm California summers and how it is a complete crock of shit.  I too once believed in sunny California.  Then I moved here and realized if the sun comes out of the thick coastal fog 1 out of five days you consider yourself lucky.  Sure inland California is sunny.  Its also a shit whole and anywhere form 95-115 F.  Don’t believe me go visit the city of El Centro sometime.  I thought I was in a fucking oven when I stepped out of my nice air conditioned car.  Then the gas station clerk tells me it is only going to get hotter the next day.  I did not stick around to find out.  While we are at it lets sound off on the freezing cold water temperatures out here too.  All those beach blanket bingo surf movies of the 50’s where everyone was in bathing suits swimming is bull too.  I wear a 4/3 and booties pretty much year round.

Instagram

I don’t know what instagram is.  I don’t want to know.  AND NO! I DO NOT HAVE AN INSTAGRAM.  All I do know is it pisses me off.  People constantly posting pictures to it thinking they are super artsy cause they picked a cool filter piss me off even more.  Here is a News flash: its owned by Facebook and your not artsy cause you took a bad blurry photo on your I-phone.  Then made it even more incoherent by adding an old time filter.

Guys who find it completely ok to wear shorts, flip flops and tank tops to the club and the woman who find them attractive.  

Hey nothing screams I just came from the beach like a tank top, flip flops, messy hair and board shorts.  Why not wear them out to the club.  Who wants to wear fancy clothes anyway when apparently chicks would much rather stand next to one of these defuses in their designer party dress and expensive heels.  Ladies did you really spend all that time getting ready tonight to go home with some bro who looks like he literally climbed out of bed and threw on whatever was lying around on the floor.  I am pretty sure Humphrey Bogart never wore a tank top.

Pictures of women who look like this:
Because all I ever get to fuck is women who look like this:

And there you have it folks, all the anger I have been bottling up inside for the past few months.  Man it feels good to get it all off my chest.  Oh and I’m not to happy with the current state up hip hop music either, but that is another topic for another time.  Thanks for listening.  Yes I am certifiably insane!!!


For some reason I feel a bit gypped being it is 2012.  Were we not suppose to have flying cars by now, wearing futuristic clothing  with strange rings round different parts of the outfit and I’m pretty sure we should have had robots doing all our work for us?  So much for that shit.  If the world does not end in December I am going to royally be let down this year.

I have not written too much as of late.  My excuse this time around is that I just feel sort of bored with my life.  Trying this normal “real life” thing and doing what I’m “suppose to do” really leaves a lack time for adventuring and a paling few opportunities for spontaneity, two aspects of my life that I have constantly thrived on, well since birth actually. Don’t get me wrong I am digging this “settling down becoming a useful member of society” idea.

I guess its fun to have to go to work five days out of the week.  Who really liked all that free time anyway?  NOT ME…NO! I love to sweat it out for eight hours a day in a hot kitchen serving some other guys dreams while burning my hands and arms.  All so I can be told I forgot the sauce, or the cheese or this side, or “this steak is not well done enough”.  Bitch if I cooked it any longer it would have been a piece of mother fucking charcoal!

Now that I got that off my chest this new mundane life of surfing the same shitty breaks, in the same shitty town, in the same shitty state, in the same shitty country has caused a sort of mental paralysis.  I literally have had blog writers block if such a thing is possible.  Then I gave my life a bit more consideration and realized that even though I am living like everyone else my life still manages to be crazy and intense.  Just going to the bank and grocery store at times produce ridiculous stories.

Rather then just write the surflog and the occasional UCB (which by the way has been rather sterile as of late, get those power of ten lists in for July) I have decided I am going to write about the adventures I have in my vain attempt at social normality.  Its usually a collection of great moments of failure.  The first subject I would like to write on is dating in today’s I’m too busy, high paced, smart phone society.  As most of you know I have been single now for just about a year and unfortunately have had to partake in the world of adult dating.

Meeting Members of the Opposite Sex

I use the term adult dating to describe dating after college years.  Once you get out of school meeting people becomes quite the challenge, at least for me anyway.  When your young there are plenty of social circles one exists in where there are plenty of opportunities to meet new and different people.  Those people introduce you to others and so on and so forth.  By pure probability of the social circle system there is a decent chance of meeting a member of the opposite sex who you may click with.

As an adult those circles get smaller and tighter.  While new ones become nearly impossible to penetrate.  If you have a group of friends you have been hanging out with for twenty years and you bring in a new person that poor schmuck has a lot of catching up to do.  Its hard trust me.  There is only so long you can pretend to find inside jokes that you are on the outside of funny before you get fed up and go your own way.  It sucks when your that guy people have to constantly be explaining what is going on and who is who to.

The Bar

Then there is the bar/club.  This is my natural scene to meet people.  Why do you go out to such places?  To meet new people.  Face the facts why go out and spend the price of an entire bottle or six pack  for one drink if you just wanted to hang out with your friends and not meet anyone new?  You could stay home with all your friends and drink for a quarter of the price.   On paper this looks like the perfect scene for singles to go out and mingle.

Maybe at one time it was.  These days its a mess out there.  Your average person might go out a few times a month at best more times then not opting to stay home and sit around on the couch.  I love the rules of probability so I go out a few nights a week.  My attitude being nothing is sure as hell going to happen on my couch besides Alfie clawing the shit out of my legs.  Of course when you go out a bunch there is another probability statistic that holds true: becoming an alcoholic.    Its very easy my friends.  One drink turns into five, then shots next thing you know your being woken up at 4am by the cops cause you passed out against a gas pump.

The quality of people you meet here are for the most part less then stellar as well.  Drunks love drunks after all.  My buddy and I have this running rule now: No Regulars.  For me this is sort of an oxymoron cause we are regulars.  The idea being if a woman is out as much as we are then she most likely has bigger problems then us.  Basically we hang around looking for the women who have come out for some special occasion such as a holiday, birthday, wedding party, etc.  These girls are most likely decent people looking to have a good time and worth meeting and they don’t know that we are there all the time.

“Do you come here often” she asks.  “Never, this is only my third time at the Wild Cat” I reply as the bar tender hands me another rum and coke with out me having ordered it.  It just so happens everyone I know is at that bar by coincidence that night.  The other problem with the bar is the fact that when chicks go out they either put on their battle armor ready to fend off any suitor in their sights thanks in part to all the tools and douche bags out there who have ruined it for guys like myself.  Getting past this armor is a hard one.  If they don’t have their armor on then they have come out to get laid meaning come morning I am most likely never to see her again.

Yeah, the club does have some fringe benefits 😉

The Grocery Store

This is a place I have just recently come to embrace for meeting women at.  For starters there are tons of women at the super market.  I am personally a terrible opener.  I never  know what to say and most times when I do try I feel like I am just being bothersome, get flushed and quickly walk away as fast as I approached.  At the grocery store I am the man.

I’m a  chef. I know food and wine.  No matter what section of the store I’m in if I see a woman looking at a certain item and she seems a bit confused I add my two cents.  More times then not it leads into a conversation.  Then I always blow it by not getting any digits.  I like to leave things up to fate that way.  I think if I see her again it was meant to be and I will ask for her number at that time.  This system is double flawed.  My short term memory and face recognition is spotty at best and odds of running into her again slim.  Its a lose lose for me.

The Beach

There was a time when I was a professional surfer and I killed it on the beach.  All I had to do was get out of the water and chicks would flock to me.  These days I don’t have stickers on my board any more and therefore when I get out am just another average schmo.   Yeah I still rip, but most women have no idea what good surfing is.  Its been my understanding that in general they think who ever rode the wave the longest got the best ride even if that meant riding the white water all the way to the beach.  Whenever I take a chick who knows little about surfing down to the beach with me all she says is “why did you keep falling” or “your rides were so short”.  “Look at that guy he has been riding his waves all the way in” as she points to some kook on a soft top flailing his way in on the soap…FML.

Besides surfing I have no beach game what so ever.  I think this is mainly because I am not a bro.  Also I have chicken legs thus shorts are not flattering to me.  One looks like an idiot on the beach in a pair of jeans.  Here in Santa Barbara there are no surf able waves on our beaches most of the time and zero in the summer when chicks actually go to the beach.  The surfing approach just does not work.

Maybe if I looked as sexy as this guy my beach game would be better. Hold on a second isn’t that the dude my ex girlfriend left me for? hmmmmm

The Coffee Shop

My buddy Mark thoroughly believes in this approach.  Its true there are tons of woman at coffee shops just hanging out.  Next to the bar I would have to think they are the second best casual social meccas.  I have a problem.  I don’t drink coffee. The caffeine makes me crazy.  I am a naturally hyper person to begin with.  Throw in the caffeine and I get neurotic and even at times am prone to have anxiety attacks.  Between the two It makes me rather unattractive.  Me on coffee:

Library, Gym, rec-center, church, parks

Although I love books and reading I do not like the library.  Taking out books is such a hassle.  Then I always forget to return them, lose or damage the material thus that “free” book became more then it would have cost to buy it.  Here in Santa Barbara the library has become the headquarters for the homeless.  I think we all know how I feel about bummery.  Yes bummery is not a word.  You can quote me on that: Bummery – the act of vagrancy.  Honestly I rarely see good looking chicks in the library and they come there to read not be bothered by dudes looking to get in their pants.

I don’t work out and even if I do don’t develop muscle tone.  I would rather just go surfing, skating or on a hike for my exercise.  I do like cute girls in spandex though.  Believe it or not I actually tried the gym briefly last summer on a one month free trial membership I got from Spectrum when I worked with FRS.  I did not meet any one and mostly got yelled at for misusing the equipment.  Eventually I got tired of the ridiculous amount of old men walking around the locker room butt naked with their shriveled up figs dangling about.

The reason I gave up on the gym…

What the fuck is a rec-center.  Do they even exists anymore, seriously.  If they do and they are filled with eligible hot single women please my readers enlighten me.  I will reward you by building a statue of your likeness out of a block of Wisconsin cheddar cheese.  They are more likely just to be filled with more naked old men walking around with their shriveled up figs.

I tried the church thing.  For the most part churches are full of beautiful good hearted single women.  The draw back is most of these women want to get married.  I don’t really have a problem with that per say, second times a charm right.  I do have a problem with the fact that the majority of these girls wont have sex with me until that marriage takes place and then some don’t believe in contraception.  Although I would like to have children some day I would like it to be planned and limited.  Oh and for whatever reason they are against drinking, partying and just about everything else that is fun. One thing that is for certain about churches is the likely hood of running into naked old men is rare if any.

Parks are cool.  I love a nice park.  There is nothing like a good stroll through a nice park on a gorgeous summer day.  If I had a dog I would be golden.  Chicks love dogs.  Then again I don’t really want to walk around picking up dog shit in a little baggie and then having to carry that around till I find a trash receptacle.  As much as chicks dig a guy with a dog I do not believe they fancy a guy who picks up shit and then carries it around  with him in a little baggie.  My dog would probably be gnarly and eat some little kid on the play ground.  Then authorities would shot him on sight and then me cause I wouldn’t let them take me alive.    Maybe its best if I just stayed at home with Alf.  Plus I once saw an old homeless guy drop his pants and take a shit against a tree in a park once.  That breaches both my homeless and old man fig problem.

The Internet

I don’t do the online thing.  A bunch of people have recommended some great sites for me to try.  I have heard countless success stories.  On the other hand I have heard countless horror stories as well.  What if I just end up having some weirdo old man send me a picture of his figs? I know it is the “way of the future” for people to meet.  It seems really unnatural and forced to me, borderline desperate?  I know I am old fashioned but what happened to meeting someone awesome in your day to day and having dinner?  That is actually going to be our next segment in this new series.

I have messed around with the Craigslist personals.  That shit is fucking gnarly.  You want adventure start answering some of those adds.  Unlike match.com and those other accepted, safe dating sites craigslist is dangerous and you never know who or what you are going to meet.  Anyone who is willing to put themselves on that forum is got guts and worthy of my time.  Believe me I have been on some interesting craigslist dates to say the least.  Needless to say I am still single.

Singles Mixers

Yep I have tried some of these too.  If you think internet dating is bad this is far worse.  On the whole it is a collection of busted ass people thrown together in a somewhat hostile setting.  Its almost like going to a stud farm.  There is always more dudes then chicks there.  Then we are all thrown into the coral together with alcohol.  It is sort of like the bar but with bright lighting.  I did two of such events saw just about the same people at both, drank my two complementary drinks and went to the Wild Cat.  Mostly if was old men walking around with their figs safely concealed in their trousers.

I hope you found some humor in this.  If you are single then you see that you are not alone my friends.  Even a person as wonderfully man pretty as myself  cant nab a girl friend to save his life.  For whatever reason I don’t think this blog helps my case.  Oh well if they can’t accept me for who I am then I don’t want any.  Look for more dating fun in another segment soon.

With a face like this I am always in constant wonderment why the ladies stay away. I know what it is: My good looks and charm are too intimidating for them.

Book XIV: Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare, 1604, 205 pages

“Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall”.  Finally a new book. Those Hemingway short stories took me forever to read. Talk about the most depressing collection of writings I have read since Oliver Twist (see blog Chris’ Notes, Oliver Twist).  At the time I was in the mood for such.  Being its summer now and feeling rather nostalgic for NYC’s Shakespeare in the park free play series I thought why not read Measure for Measure.  I actually have never read this play.  I scored it for a quarter at a garage sale a few months back.  Its time.  The last book took me nearly 7 months to read, which in my opinion is completely disgraceful.  My goal is to finish this one by the end of the month.  Feel Free to pick up a copy and read a long with me.

If you missed the Book XIII The First Forty Nine Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway click this link.  I will not be doing a Chris’ notes entry on this book cause it was a collection of fifty stories and I am not about to take that on.  There were some really insightful entries and serious introspection to be had.  I think it is definitely worth picking up for a read.  There are few authors as powerful as Hemingway.

I don’t even know.

Spring has come and gone and with it another quarter of the UCB.  There were I believe three blogs written and two “Power of Ten’s”.  There should have been more, would’ve, Should’ve, Could’ve.  I don’t really give shit’ve.  I feel although the quantity on here has become sparse the quality has more then made up for it.  If you want quantity I do write in the surf log everyday and at times that is more interesting then what I write here.  There are still plenty of laughs, rants and insanity as we have grown so accustomed to.  You should all be happy for me that I am out living life instead of spending all my time writing about it.

Yeah you got me. I’m usually just too drunk the majority of the time to formulate a coherent sentence.  I should have Alfie start writing his own column, put him on the keys and let him go to town.  In all seriousness I have been pretty busy with my new job, surfing, music, my garden, cooking and adventuring.  Shoot that last San Francisco Blog I wrote a few days ago was like 20,000 words or something obnoxious like that.  If that is not effort I don’t know what is.  Once again it was a rather lame UCB quarter with only three real participants.  Shame on all of you who don’t participate.  If I got more suggestions I may write more.

Here are the winner stats for Spring:

Kooky Kyle takes the cake once again winning his second quarter of the year.  Its true I am going send him a cake in the mail.  Its most likely going to be melted when he gets it since it is an ice cream cake and I am sending it US standard ground. Congratulations Kooky your working on your next self expense paid trip to the Lisanti Palace!! Oh yeah and enjoy your melted cake courtesy of Rob Machado in Loose Change (extra UCB point if you explain what I am referring to.  Put your answer in the comments).

1st Place: Kooky Kyle – 5.5pts
2nd Place tie:  DanaRepublic – 3pts
2nd Place tie: Mauriello – 3pts

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Yep I’m an idiot…WWWHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTT! So get those “Power of Ten” lists in for July and your UCB submissions as well.  Whhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooot!

Got a problem with the UCB. Make a giant cardboard sign and go hang out with these guys. If you do it and take a picture and send it to me. I will give you five UCB points. You must have a two people each one holding the above signs and then yourself holding a sign that says “Chris Lisanti Ruined My Life”. Do It Now!