Monday, December 22, 2008


Best bacon and egg roll on the east coast - fo' real!


Home again.


Waves then breakfast.

My shoulders are so tired that I can barely lift my arms.

Hell, yes.

Friday, December 19, 2008


"Look at you! Look at your legs, Bec! You're so funny..."

Huh? I look down at my legs sticking out from under my skirt.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look at your tanlines! What's with your knees? And your HANDS!"

It's true, I can't deny it - my body is a mish-mash of white, gold and deep brown markings. My recent ocean forays have left me in a colourful state that has created a story across my body, most recently marked in by some irresponsible sunburn acquired during a particularly fun session last weekend...

My legs are dark brown from my knees to my hips, the part of my body that sits out of the water as I wait between waves - the tan stops across the middle of my knee as a marker of how deep my legs are submerged as I sit on my board. There is a band of brown that runs across my lower back showing the spot where my vest sits up over my hips, leaving it exposed to the sun. My hands look like they're swathed in brown gloves from where they stick out from under my sleeves, and I have faint marks on my shoulders and back from the sleeveless vest I sometimes wear. My bikini lines pull up in a halter around my neck and my breasts are creamy white from the little sun time that they manage to enjoy.

But the glowing glory is my arse! It shines like a milky beacon as I pull off my swimmers, beaming out at the world as I (shamelessly) change in the carpark. The clean line of brown running around the top of my thighs shows the recent preference I have for a particular swimmer bottom, indelibly inked in until I change favourites and create new lines.

I think it's funny.

When I get back to the city from weekends at the beach, I catch my colleague looking at my skin to find out how successful my trip was. He's been working hard lately and hasn't been away in weeks.

"You got waves" he accuses me as he looks at the thick white band around my ankle.

I smile at him.

Yes. Yes I did.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Surfing + war = Vietnam

Oh dear lord, I am petrified of what I mind find here...

Well, this to start with.

I'm sure it's an interesting story, full of tales of men being brave, being larrikins, drinking beer and chasing skirt, while overcoming fear in the face of adversity through the strength they found in their mates etc etc.

But, well, I mean, the fonts they've chosen for the cover tell me enough at this point.

If this book found it's way into my life, I'd read it, but I'm fairly certain I can guess the ending already.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

This is what rad looks like

Ages ago, a friend described a photo to me that she had seen somewhere, sometime. She said it was of a Hawai'ian woman dropping her board through the air, with her arms spread wide, in front of a wave that was big and white and pitching over, and you couldn't be sure if she's make it or not. It sounded awesome, so imagine my delight to find it on this cover at the bargain, second-hand price of $4*!

The image is of Desiree DeSoto is from 1997/98 and I l.o.v.e. it. This image is small (but if you click on it, it will become enormous!!), so it's hard to see but she has the BIGGEST smile on her face.


*Disclaimer: I'm not necessarily saying that I l.o.v.e. Pacific Longboarder though. Not recently anyway. And while we're here, I might as well note that in all the years that Pacific Longboarder has been published (since about 1996), this cover is one of 3 that features a woman with one other group shot that has a woman included. That makes 4 covers in total that have a woman surfing, with the last one being about 4 years ago (give or take 6 months). Don't believe me? Their entire back-catalogue on their website - check it out.

Monday, December 01, 2008

Would you rather..?

A few months ago, my friend posed a hypothetical question to me, better known as a "would you rather..?" Jules is a well-known and experienced purveyor of such questions but none of them has ever stumped quite like this one:

"Would you rather... never kiss anyone again, or never go in the ocean again?"

At first, the answer seems obvious, but on closer thought, the challenge grows. The sensuality and physicality of both options is intoxicating.

To never go in the ocean again is unthinkable. To never feel the water on my body, to taste the salt in my mouth or to feel it sting my eyes and skin? To never look through the waves from underneath them? To never again scream, submerged and silent? To never feel myself tossed around in whitewash, tumbling and flailing? To never paddle into another wave?

But then, to never kiss again is also almost too much to bear! The warmth, the softness, the pressure, mouths, bodies, movement, skin, the teeth, and the way that it can move to include my neck, my arms, my fingers... There is no way that I can imagine giving that up either. No way at all.


The only answer I can reach is that I think about this question more than I probably should.