spiked
The Spanish Inquisition and going barefoot.
the more stuff you have to communicate with the harder it is to get it to work
Sometimes a man tries to devine what exactly is going on in the pro surfing competitions and comes up with no result. It's all a blur.
It's ok just to look like you do it - nobody needs to get hurt out there
Nothing is true, all those stories about surfing in the the sixties are fiction.
A man is only as good as his last wave - so what if your job depended on it?
Surferwatch.
The cold dinner in a wet forest where every nighttime beastie needs warm blood.
Big fellow Ben - carries an ugly snake bite scar on his face.
Carlisle only remains standing. Moving his knees and hands a little this way a little that. He sleeps.
Wakeful nights are many for Mad Tim, as he plots his unending calculus of weights and distances and horses names and jockeys’ colours.
Apr 18
A dispassionate look at the friends we have to surf with. Herewith a list of malcontents from Mona vale.
Nat had a funny way of introducing himself to you when he dropped in - sometimes he would slice around into a full-blooded cutback and say hullo to your head with his elbow.
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.