How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind’s labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not laguage but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.

Jack Gilbert.

I’m so stoked on some of the comments that have been getting thrown around – people saying that it made their day and “need a lil escape? they make it look so easy and oh so f*@&%# FUN!”  That kinda stuff is cool.  There’s a few negative comments floating around but honestly, haters gonna hate, and that’s their problem.  99% of people love the video, which makes me feel super good because it was such a labor of love.  I flippin love making videos, and this is something of a dream come true.  I mean, even just a year ago I had just gotten my camera and I literally didn’t know anyone.  I met some really cool people along the way this past year that made this entire thing possible, and everything just seemed to fall into place.  I still can’t believe it when I look back.  So yeah, I count myself really blessed.

Of course I can’t thank the surfers in the video enough – without them there would not be a video.  And Chris Grant for being my starting point when I didn’t know any of the surfers.

Japan is amazing.  It’s probably the best trip I’ve ever been on.  Everything is so different, yet not so different to be totally overwhelming.  It’s like I’ve gone to another planet where they have everything we do, except it’s all done differently.  For example, they have amazing public restroom facilities all over.  However, most of the toilets have heated seats and a small electronic control panel that allows you to use a bidet (in a couple different forms apparently) and also an electronic “flushing noise” which is just a recording of a flushing sound.  I don’t know WHY they have that…I guess they have shy bladders or something.  It’s just so strange.

Another difference is of course the language.  I don’t know a lick of Japanese…aside from a few words such as “arrigato” which means thank you.  The Japanese people have completely blown me away…they are the most POLITE people I’ve ever encountered.  When you walk into a hotel they are falling over themselves to take your bags.  A bellhop will show you to your room.  They make sure they tell you EVERYTHING about the hotel and the surroundings.  Basically they make Americans look like rude pigs.

Everyone wears awesome uniforms – from the hotel staff to the people cleaning the restrooms.

They LOVE their cellphones…I’ve nearly been run over by people who are charging along staring down at their cellphone.

They also love beer – it’s cheaper than buying a Coke at a restaurant, and you can buy beer from vending machines.

The public transportation is amazing – punctual to the second and affordable and clean.  Oh yeah – did I mention – everything is super clean here.

I have so much more to write about, but I have to end it here for now.  But I will definitely post more about my trip.

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’

Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

last night at San Onofre state beach

margaux at cardiff

out to sea

singlefin

naptime

chasing flocks

….