let’s talk about Pipe
assassins in the lobbyways
Dec 15
One hundred and eighty two women with black hair and delicate ears. Rosebud mouths.
All done, let's eat, pass the olives, pass the capers, pass the bread.
Fragile boards are destroyed in an instant. Some surfers shred all the skin off their hands as they grab at anything that might steady their uncontrolled tumbling amongst the sharp edged stones.
This is The Fear.
You only own a wave when you're on it, like you only own the air when you breathe it.
The hidden right that rears up around the headland down there and travels 300 yards to its brutal end against the cliffs. More unforgiving slabs.
But first, dinner.
We were sitting around the table in the Rose Bay Hotel with Scoresby and a couple of hard faced Maoris watching the races and waiting on a feed of Singapore noodles, a specialty of Mr. Ngyuen, Charles.
Nice chap Charles, seasons his chips with garlic and chopped chives
He’s using the grill of a Chrysler 300/300c as a grill top, which makes sense, and for his pans he’s got a couple of full moon hubcaps, nicely chromed.