Category Archives: Personal

Feb 05 0 comments
ASP World Tour, Personal

Is This Real Life?

In the rare instances in which I actually leave my house, it's a common occurrence for someone to "get up in my grill" concerning something I've written in the Power Rankings.  It always shocking when said someone begins reciting by heart something I've written (occasionally it's something I've written about them - see Luke Stedman below).

The first thing that comes to mind is "How in the hell do they remember what I wrote, when I don't even remember what I wrote?"

At that point I usually tell them the truth: I write the Power Rankings on deadline, and I'm usually drunk when I do so.  Some installments are worse than others, but often I can't get the damn things done unless I'm wasted.

Hey, don't judge.  Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote Rime of the Ancient Mariner in an opium daze, Jack Kerouac  hammered out On the Road on the benzidrine, and Bob Dylan redifined popular music and popular culture while ingesting just about anything anyone handed to him.

Of course I'm a complete and utter lightweight in comparison, in terms of my substance abuse, influence and writing.

So perhaps it's more appropriate to compare my writing state to the mindset of this now infamous viral-meme child, videoed  after a nitrous-cushioned trip to the dentist.

Feb 03 5 comments
ASP World Tour, Personal, Surf Culture

I Wish my Dog Paid as Much Attention to What I Said

Good ol' Stab Mag released their 2008 Stab Awards and Mr. Luke Stedman won for "Fastest Body Transformation."

Luke Stedman. Photo: Stab Mag

Luke Stedman. Photo: Stab Mag

After a few riveting responses concerning Stedman's shirtless torso and skincare tips, Stab closed with the following question:

Stab: Finally, who is that little man on Surfline (Lewis Samuels) who seems intent on the assassination of your character?
Luke Stedman: That little man is little, for sure. I honestly wanted to kill him. He drove a sharp stake into me several times and it fucking hurt. It seemed like he wanted to bash me way more than every one else, too. Anyway, after several therapy sessions at a really expensive, overrated Sydney shrink centre, I changed my train of thought – really, it was just sitting on my deck with a cold Corona and Tom Whits telling me to snap out of it. I used his words to motivate me. Kept a couple of his quotes he wrote about me, put them up on my wall and drew positive energy from it. Actions speak louder than words and that’s what I did. I’m now 12th on the ratings and I remember being referred to as Stuart Bedford-Brown (tradesmanlike goofyfooter from the late 80s) and would never make the top 16 again as that was a fluke and hell would freeze over if I made top 10. I’m not going to use that crap cliche that’s it’s getting cold in Hell, but I won’t rest till I’ve reached single figures on the ratings.

Jan 15 6 comments
Personal, Surf Culture

ANOTHER SCHEME

Scheme #42. Samoa, 2006. Photo: Lewis Samuels

Scheme #42. Samoa, 2006. Photo: Lewis Samuels

This site is another one of my schemes.

I am a schemer.  I come up with half-scams and rely on half-truths that share a common purpose: they allow me to keep surfing.  This is not a new development.  There's historical precedent here, when it comes to both my history and surfing's.  Miklos Dora engaged in every con under the sun to keep the glide going, from credit card fraud to acting.  Pat Curren stowed away on a freighter to reach Hawaii.

I began more humbly, using all the 9-year-old charm I could muster to convince my grandfather to buy me a wetsuit.  My grandfather was an avid swimmer who logged a mile per day.  "There's no pools here!" I explained confidently. "So you should buy me a wetsuit."  I tried to emulate the facial expression of Luke Skywalker speaking to Bib Fortuna as I said this.  The Jedi Mind-Trick worked.

I caught my first wave on a "borrowed" board.  The scheme was simple:
1) Wait in  shorebreak until leashless surfer loses board
2) Grab board, run like hell, paddle it out down the beach
3) Catch a wave and ride in
4) Hand board back to older surfer, again relying on 9-year-old charm to avoid beating.

As I got older, the schemes became more intricate.  I hung out with middle-aged, dope growing surfers, because unlike groms, they had cars.   I'd ride in the back of their trucks to the reefs, trying to blend in by discussing harvests, divorces, and taxes.  I talked my high school into letting surfing count as PE, allowing me to surf till 11am on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I did just enough while at school to earn a full-ride to UCSD, living in the dorms directly above Blacks.  The next year I used my government-granted housing cash to rent a 10' x 5' storage room near the pier for $150 a month.  I used the remaining scholarship money to pay for my first trip to Indo.  There were other schemes, too, some of them less than legal.

Now I'm older.  I have more responsibilities.  I'm too old for schemes like that.  So the schemes have gotten more intricate.  I started writing about surfing so that I could travel on the cheap.  It worked, sorta.  I started writing the Power Rankings so I could scheme my way onto better trips.  If I had to talk shit about pro surfers to get to Mundaka, so be it.  Like most of the schemes before it, this one somehow worked, too.  But like most of the schemes before it, there was a price to be paid for all those waves, no matter how I sliced it.

In the grand tradition of morally-ambiguous, surf-lust inspired schemes, I'm launching this site: PostSurf - A place for myself and other surf culture iconoclasts to mull over the act, after the act is finished.  Expect something different.