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Posts from the ‘Avalon’ Category

locals a problem? crowds?

Bony little demons all firey-eyed in the dark as they rip away their clothes and dress in black, to vanish into the cauldrons. Cackling at their good fortune.

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Letter to mr. gordon merchant am osa – billabong doesn’t have to suck.

This is what you were Mercho, and you have to ask yourself - where did that guy go?

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the road trip –

This year he wants a shot at Lennox and the longer the bastard talks the bigger the chance is that we will actually take him out there.

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longboarders, how to deal with them one at a time. with prejudice.

Once longboarders were like us; savage and uncompromising, greedy and slit-eyed, cold-blooded and cunning. Handsome, virile and able to leap tall buildings with a single stride.

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sausages and ginger marmalade

Police have charged two men after allegedly seizing cannabis plants worth more than $3 million from a property near Tenterfield / Kyogle

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realsurf reporting. we did it for noodles.

Surf reporting - Step one. It's all good.

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you’re only as good as your last wave

Why you should stop surfing at 29 for the sake of the youth.

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taking off and faking off.

Faking off - How to win a loss in the surf

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session at south avalon

He confided to his little lady that all surfers are saints and the youth of today are an example to all the ages.

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watching vic

Older men slowly ease into the sea-fold wreak, rafting away on their submersible logs, deluded and intent. Flinty eyed old gluttons, claiming every trough, every peak.

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there is no peace

He comes and goes through the unkempt gardens and weeds, slipping through the back door like a thief - sometimes his mother calls for him.

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the sydney fishmarkets and tantric sex

What may be construed as sex in public places may be something else entirely.

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early is the hour

Carnal misfits and darker waters.

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absolutely bloody warranted homophobia

- about halfway through this punishing dune routine to the Joey and back the other day our suffering solitary stalwart surfer almost trips over a chap lying in the bloody NUDE on the track.

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cracker’s christmas – trapped in a surf shop

‘ You wanta EXPLAIN,’ exasperates Thommo, ‘ how a man with forty years of surfing this city from Cronulla to the Box has to deal with a hundred racks of dresses and bikinis and every fucken thing under the sun but fucken BOARDSHORTS?‘

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serial killers and surfboat crews

There’s going to be blood and misery out there, pain and humiliation; but after it’s all over some kind of kinship can develop between the sides.'

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reuben and daphne

The wetsuit zipper strap didn’t survive Reuben’s sharp tug and it came away like a piece of cotton –

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a summer story

Right now Doug decides to pull back the dressing on his ulcer for a looksee, and the swollen wound swallows half his hand before some babe wearing a black lace hanky strolls past, all silky wobble and perve. We observe the moment with a tranquil and hormonal grief as Ken retires into the dank shadows for another piss. Five an hour is the usual but who’s counting.

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the variety club bus

Wherein sat young Jason Baldwin all packed up and alone in the backseat, strapped fast into an iron chair bolted solid into the steel chassis, sat there with his ten year-old head rested, twisted, and for every day of his short lived life jammed, no, pushed hard onto his right shoulder.

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neville’s day

An attractive woman waiting in the air-conditioned luxury of a Mercedes 500SL for her husband to shower and change drew down her gold tipped cigarette in four long crackling pulls without taking her eyes off his back.

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the neighbour’s boy

And after they have gone Max’s father patrols the dark streets and collects his own collateral, dumped surfboards. He usually collects a couple each year, and after three years of hard looking he found what looked like an old MP Fangtail, ridden to the death, but still in one yellowed and bruised piece.

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