Ladies and Gentlemen...

...we are floating in space. Tonight Jason "Spaceman" Pierce, with his band Spiritualized®, played, or rather, is playing their 1997 masterpiece Ladies and Gentlemen, We are Floating in Space in its entirety at Radio City Music Hall, backed with a full orchestra and choir. I was going to go, but due to time/money restrictions opted not to. Now, after listening to the album earlier to commemorate my folly, I feel a little sad for not going. I love most of Mr. Spaceman's music, with both Spiritualized and his previous band, Spacemen 3, and to see him play in the aforementioned conditions would have been really spectacular. Oh well, next time. Oh yeah, there probably won't be a next time.
    

Back to Normal

     Well, it seems Summer is somewhat back to normal, wave- and weather-wise at least. It's a little cooler, and the waves have dropped off for a couple days at least, and while I'm not exactly happy that that's the case, it does give me some time to get to some other things. Like sailing, for instance, and running, just to name a couple. The 32nd annual Dog Day Race is coming up on August 15, and I recently realized that while I had planned to train more for this, with the waves as they've been I've been running between 0-1 times a week. Oh well, I'll do it, but might not beat my time from last year, as was my original goal. Then again, I might, and anyway, it's pretty much just about getting the t-shirt, right?

     So I saw a flyer for this art show somwhere a couple weeks back, but forgot to post something about it. Now I've remembered, so I am. It's called Where Oceans Converge, and is going to be at the Long Beach Island Arts Foundation. It opens this weekend, and will feature ocean- and surf-related art from artists from all over the country. Seems pretty interesting. over the course of the exhibit there will be three surf films shown as well as an auction, benefit, and some live music. I might go check it out, but we'll see. I've still got to go to the surf museum at the Seaport, which is only a five minute walk from my house and I have yet to make it. What a bum.


Stupid video, good song. "Strawberryfire," by the Apples In Stereo, off of their 1999 album Her Wallpaper Reverie.

They Can't Take Away Our Memories

     Have you ever wondered to yourself: "What's the single greatest thing that the capitalism has deprived me of?" Well, here's the answer:

     If you were a child born after 1970 or so, you should remember a popcorn maker similar to this, and if you were born before that, well, you should remember it too, because popcorn isn't solely for children. I picked up the model shown here, the Wear-Ever Popcorn Pumper, at the thrift store a couple weeks ago, but only got to use it tonight. It's been a long, long time, and the memories came popping back as the popcorn shot out of the chute and I scrambled to catch the strays. That's one thing capitalism can't take away: the memories.
     Now, you can still buy these new, so I guess I'm being a little harsh by saying that the sturdy old capitalist Orville Redenbacher and his kind ripped these contraptions from us. But the fact is that microwave popcorn has largely replaced this type of popcorn maker in most American households. Except I can't figure out why.
     It's certainly not the money. Once the machine is purchased, which even for a brand new basic model is only $20.00 or so, the bags of corn for popping is pretty cheap. I made two loads the size of the bowl above and I think it must have only cost 50 cents, if that. And it uses a lot less energy than a microwave.
     It's not a speed thing. The popcorn above took less than three minutes to pop, probably closer to two, and look how much there is. Microwave popcorn takes longer than that.
     I don't think it can be convenience, because all you have to do is plug this thing in and dump the kernels on, and melt better on the convenient melting tray if you want. And it's convenient to clean, because all you need to clean is the butter melting tray. Besides, it's more convenient as far as actually making the popcorn, because you don't have to wait until there are a couple seconds between pops or whatever ridiculous thing you have to do with microwave popcorn, because once it's popped with the machine, it's out for good.
     And that's another plus: no burning, ever. It's impossible. The same can hardly be said for microwave popcorn.
     The machine is much more entertaining, and that's an indisputable fact.
     Lastly, it's healthier. You control how much of what goes on the popcorn, and since it uses hot air instead of oil, there are much less calories from fat than popcorn prepared in other ways.
     So yeah, while using this, all these things struck me, and I was confused as to why microwave popcorn gained such popularity, but I'm glad that I had stumbled upon this machine. So do yourselves all a favor, and buy one of these. You won't regret it, in fact, you'll probably regret all the times that you didn't have one. 

    
     P.S. Inception was really good, a top-notch thrill-ride to the deepest depths of your, or rather Leonardo DeCaprio's, mind. It was a little mind-warping, what with all kinds of meta-meta-dream stuff going on, but not too bad. Unless you were above 75, because the patrons of the theater who met that criteria could be heard groaning about how they didn't understand what went on, or how confused they were. I've got a theory it's because of the world they grew up in vs. the one we grew up in: theirs was definitely more unidimensional, whereas ours is so much more multi-dimension oriented, so our minds are better equipped to deal with meta-things better. Whatever, all I know is that Christopher Nolan has another hit on his hands, and I had to pee for three quarters of the movie but didn't want to miss a second. One word: Paradox.

Cool it, Brothers....

      Malcolm X's last words, while supposedly uttered to his assassins moments before he was killed, could also be said to this Summer, because it has been hot, and indeed needs to cool it, brother. (Summer is personified as the male Sumarr in Norse mythology, so the "brother" here works. Ah, wikipedia...).

     That being said, I did finally get to do both lam coats yesterday. I wanted to do them on Friday, but by the time I got everything ready, it was 90 degrees. Too hot. As it was when I started doing the bottom yesterday morning it was 85 and rising, and even when I did the deck at one in the morning, it was 85 in there. But, it got done, and despite the heat causing gel ten minutes too soon, I still managed to get everything done, and better than I have in the past. It's reassuring when progress is apparent.

     Speaking of progress, let's regress for a moment. Yesterday Jeannine and I went to a thrift store we had never been to before, and it's right in Little Egg Harbor. I forget the name, but I saw a medium-sized wooden box in the corner, and as it is any good thrift store forager's nature to open closed things, I opened it, and I was greeted to the above surprise (though all the paperwork did not pop up like that in pop-up book fashion). It's a Century Fast Check Tube Tester, complete with tube charts, original warranty card, invoice, and other interesting paperwork. Wow, I said. Still, with no prices on anything, I assumed the worst, but when I asked the gentleman who was working there how much it was, he asked what it was. I  told him, and he responded with, "Gimme two dollars." "Sold," I said. But what would I use a tube tester for? Well, I used it when I got home to find out that out of the five tubes in the little AM radio in our dining room, none needed to be replaced but two do have minor gas leaks, which could account for the slight humming when on. I'll order them shortly. I can't wait to test all my other tube-powered electronics. So, if you have any tubes that you suspect are faulty and could use testing, I'm your man.
     P.S. The guy at the thrift store also gave us a sewing machine complete with table that works, and a pretty cool looking sewing bench. What a guy.

Eggplant.

      Please, do yourself a favor, and listen to Voice of the Seven Thunders. Really great music from Rick Tomlinson, perhaps this description on the releasing label Holy Mountain's website says it all, "Voice of the Seven Thunders is already drawing comparison to the heyday of '70s acid rock and the likes of Amon Düül II, Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, Japan's Flower Travellin' Band, early Pink Floyd, the Velvet Underground's drone jams, the electronic kosmische of Cluster and the unhinged organic grooves of International Harvester." Are you kidding me? If I hadn't read that after I heard the band, I would have already loved them. Really solid jams here, some droney, some not, all good grooves, some amazing mind-melting electric stuff, equally amazing mellow acoustic stuff. Listen below, and check out the album.

GO HERE TO LISTEN TO THE SONGS!

Track 03 - Out of the Smoke
Track 06 - Dry Leaves
Track 09 - Set Fire to the Forest

     That's it for now, off to see Inception in a few, which will hopefully prove as mind-bending as it looks. Time to make popcorn!

Take a Ride to the Land Inside of Your Mind

     The fin boxes are in! After a delay caused by missing tools, missing sandpaper, missing time, and a homemade Futures router jig that I deemed inadequate so I had to make another, I finally got the boxes in 005. I have to say, it's a little daunting plunging a router into a board that's not mine for the first time, but everything went well and now I just have to finalize the logo and then I'll be on my way to glassing.
     More thoughts on the missing tools: it occurred to me that when you misplace something, it is in fact your past self, be it your self five minutes ago or a week or a month, misjudging the person you would become by the time you are looking for the misplaced item in question. When you placed the keys in the flower pot, for example, you thought that that would be a logical place for your future self to look for them. But, alas, your self changed just that much in the interim so that now you would never dream of looking in the flower pot for your keys, and end up wandering around the house for fifteen minutes thinking they must be gone for good. So yeah, it's an interesting testament to how much your self changes from one moment to the next, and how unpredictable those changes can be. From now on, try to be a better judge of your future self, and you'll lose less things.

     This picture was taken in darkness, the light that you see is lightning from the thunder storm that came across the Island at 5:15 the other morning and turned the winds from offshore to sideshore and ruined the chances of surfing that morning. Still, being on the beach and watching a thunder storm come up the Island, and then suddenly being in the middle of it on the edge of the Atlantic, made it almost worth it.

Eggplant.

     While driving home from checking the surf this morning (small waves + extremely low tide + hard offshore winds = no surfing for me) this song came on AM 1340. "Journey to the Center of Your Mind," the sixth track off of The Amboy Dukes' 1968 album of the same name. It's rare you get to hear a song like this on a radio station that isn't college radio. The Amboy Dukes launched the career of one Ted Nugent, which is kind of funny, considering the character he's become today. But, even then, he still clung to his conservative views, as he supposedly banned the band from partaking in any drugs whatsoever, which is kind of funny for a band from the sixties dressed like that playing music like that and talking about taking journeys to the center of your mind and all that. Nugent himself said he "never smoke a joint...never done a drug in my life. I thought 'Journey to the Center of the Mind' meant look inside yourself, use your head, and move forward in life". Fair enough Ted, but c'mon, the cover of the album has a bunch of pipes and other drug-related paraphernalia. But yeah, their first three albums (The Amboy Dukes, Journey to the Center of Your Mind, and Migration) are all pretty good psych albums. The Dukes' career went on for at three more studio albums, one greatest hits, and one live album, albeit under the name Ted Nugent & the Amboy Dukes. I don't think they're very good, and mark the beginning of Ted's love of hunting and the wild in general, with plenty of songs about guns and woods and stuff like that, and album names like Survival of the Fittest, Call of the Wild, and Tooth Fang and Claw. Ridiculous guy? Yes. Great guitar player? Also yes.

Take a ride to the land inside of your mind
Beyond the seas of thought
Beyond the realm of what
Across the streams of hopes and dreams
Where things are really not

But please realize
You'll probably be surprised
For it's the land unknown to man
Where fantasy is fact
So if you can, please understand
You might not come back

Hope You Surfed This Weekend.

I know I did. Surfed Friday, lost a fin, bought new fins, surfed Saturday, got breakfast at Amy's, surfed again Saturday, pastries, relaxation time (interrupted), Ryan's birthday BBQ, surfed again Saturday, BBQ, skins are the flip cup champions, went to bed at one woke up at 4:30, surfed, got bagels, surfed, slept, got burgers, got pastries, drove home, slept, woke up, went to Doyle's, slept. Now my shoulders are sore and the surf this morning did nothing for me. Three unrelated things:



The infamous traffic scene from Jean-Luc Godard's 1967 mindblowing masterwork Weekend.



Tom Waits doing a version of the Charles Bukowski poem  "Nirvana."



Finished reading the book Vertigo, by Boileau-Narcejac, which was the basis for Hitchcock's film of the same name. The book was really good, and in it the phrase "pale blue eyes" was used numerous times, which instantly called to my mind, and lodged itself there, The Velvet Underground's "Pale Blue Eyes," the fourth track off of the group's 1969 self-titled album, which is one of my favorite albums of all time. Linger on.

FOUND!

     Found this "blank" in the trash around the corner from my house this morning. It appears that it was a long/fun board that someone stripped and attempted to cut down into a short board, then realized that they were off their rocker (pun semi-intended) and threw it out. It's about 5'6" x 19 1/2 x 3, and that's 3" almost all the way through.

     The problems with the blank are the 19 1/2" wide point is about 1 1/2 feet forward of center; the tail gets pretty narrow, and it looks like someone tried to shape the nose with a hatchet. Also, there's the finbox and some glass on the tail, as seen below.

     That glass is easily ground off. So really, if board was a bit wider, it would be a usable blank. But, what to do?

     As if by magic, an idea emerges! My plan is to eventually glue those rail cut offs onto the board, figure out a template, and make something within the restrictions presented by the situation. I haven't worked on anything yet, but I have ideas in my mind of either a mini-simmons type board or maybe a small egg-type. We'll see. That won't be for a while yet, as I've got some more important boards to make.
     Waves coming this weekend, and if the forecast stays like it is, it could be glorious. Let's hope. For now, everyone take care in this heat. I know I almost died this morning running in 94-degree-in-the-shade heat. Good practice for the Dog Day Race, which is coming up. Of course, when you get blisters on your feet because the ground is too hot, something's not quite right there.

[Spoken:]
Ooh man, dig that crazy chick.

Who wears short shorts
We wear short shorts
They're such short shorts
We like short shorts
Who wears short shorts
We wear short shorts.

[Repeat 2x]

     Those are the lyrics in their entirety to hit by New Jersey's own The Royal Teens. Not much of a deep message here, just digging those short shorts with some really fun summertime sax solos. But, really, if we were to look a little further, we might be find that there's more going on here than it  initially appears. 

     The song, a #3 hit, was released in 1958, which was a few years before short shorts, or hotpants, really took off in London, thanks to fashion designer Mary Quant. So, in 1958, these "crazy chicks" were a little ahead of their time, and instead of being fearful of ridicule, they are bold and courageous in their ultra-cropped clothing. "Who wears short shorts?" asks the male, who in the post-war America that forms the backdrop to this song was the dominant member of society, the one who asked the questions, and who got answers. So, at seeing this revolutionary new garment, he demands answers. He wants to know who is behind this symbol of social upheaval that could be equated to the freedom-loving flappers, with their jazz and their bobbed hair and their short skirts (he shudders to think that this could be happening again, but no, it couldn't, not in his America). So, who's responsible for this outrage. And the women of this song, instead of being ashamed, instead of hiding, declare, in a resounding chorus, "We wear short shorts!" 

     Then, taken aback, the man, hoping to win with reason, says "But, they're such short shorts." And the women know that that is the reason, that they are such short shorts, and that they "like short shorts." So, in the final couplet, the man has changed his tone, looking out to the world, asking the question just so the women once again can answer and let the world know that they, in fact, do wear short shorts.

     Or it could just be a pretty fun song with some good sax solos. 

     Next time, how The Coasters (who have so many hits that you'd recognize that they are like their generation's Tommy James and the Shondells), with their 1959 single "Charlie Brown," foreshadowed the student protests and complete overhaul of the Universities in the United States and around the world in the coming decade. The lines "Walks in the classroom, cool and slow /  Who calls the English teacher Daddy-O," clearly shows this Charlie Brown to be a passive protester, and unlike those hotheaded Frenchman of 1968 he keeps his cool, all the while causing just as much damage as a Molotov cocktail. He greets his English teacher, who is a staunch believer in proper grammar and rock-solid traditions of language that can not be shaken by some know-nothing student, he greets this teacher with a new term, his term, one of cool disrespect that the English teacher would have never dreamed of addressing his mentors by. A term that would not have even appeared in his professor's OED, that's for sure. But, in fact, it's in there now, first cited use 1949, and Charlie Brown is letting him know that this colloquial slang term is here to stay.

Oh Charlie Brown, he's a clown, that Charlie Brown.

                                                I'm not even going to reread all that nonsense.

Hot.

     Well, 005 is basically completely shaped. Finished it off yesterday. All it needs now is some final touches, which will be done right before it gets the finboxes glassed in. We're going with Futures on this board. The fact of the matter is that it's hot out, and it's going to be bad business glassing in this heat and humidity. I'm going to have to wait until the evening most definitely. Towards the end of the week it looks like it will be a little cooler. I don't mind the heat really, but sometimes after working all day in 90+ temperatures, it's hard to make myself go out and work on stuff. See Serious Delirium.
      Also looks like some waves (hopefully) towards the end of the week. Had an excellent day last Tuesday, phenomenal actually. Lost a fin because while the glass is strong, the cedar underneath is not and I must have cranked down too hard on the finbox screws, and it crushed the cedar. So some as I'm running up the beach looking for it, I see some strange guy who was wading in the shorebreak wearing a drysuit (!) holding up my fin. A hero! So I surfed the rest of the time without it, and the board worked fine, because there were mostly rights and I still had two fins in that side.

   

"Nothing Ever Happened," the ninth track off of Deerhunter's 2008 album Microcastle. Really good album, and great song off of that album. Love the jam at the end. Also check out out Bradford Cox's other band, Atlas Sound. Good stuff.