I’ve been pretty slack writing this here Pineapple Fritter. I’ve been consumed by a quest for work life balance. Getting square so that 2011 has lots of pockets of surfing- whether it be some of Graham’s mythical ‘post work 5pm glass’ or trips to Indo. And I’ve been hard at work on some non surf writing [excuses excuses] but I thought I’d just check in and get something off my chest.
Just got back from Mullumbimby; my friend’s place on a mountain with jaw dropping view of Byron. We’d sit on the porch necking cider watching the sky over Byron change. Lightning. Thunder. Sunshine. Clouds. Wind. ‘Like watching television’ Spent a little time in Brunswick Heads. I liked it. It wasn’t overdeveloped. More chance of seeing a crusty soul surfer fishing for cod than getting a latte.
Didn’t have a board with me this time. How absurd. I went to Byron without a surfboard. I didn’t feel the need to surf just to get out of the city. Is that shameful? Apparently just being near the surf is enough to set your head right because the breaking waves mean there’s more negative ions in the air. Anyway, the day I went to Byron it was flat as a buckwheat pancake.
The township of Byron made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Dixie and I walked past a yoga store selling yoga clothes ‘for on and off the mat’. [An aside: there is a statistic about the percentage of adverts that contain images of surfers and it is surprisingly high .I forget where I read it but consider this: There are an estimated 2.5 million surfers in Australia. That’s about ten percent of the population. But it seems like every fucking cereal advert, every accountancy firm pamphlet, every bus-stop, every cola ad has a freakin’ surfboard in it. And the bit that gets me is the only thing that is waxed in those ads is the models hair] I wish I had a hot tub time machine so I could go to Byron back in the day. Nowadays there’s still lots of conspiracy pothead theorists that believe lizard people walk amongst us. (See: Tony Abbott) Lots of pinned Nimbin. Lots of immaculate tourists being sold the surf version of the emperor’s new clothes but mostly the moneyed folk with the extreme cosmetic dental work up from Sydney.
I sound so class war clichéd bagging it but it’s how I felt when I saw that they’d put a Dome café on Rotto. I just wish rich people would build less crap. Coastal development is a thorn in my side. I should just suck it up. It’s the way we’re headed. Soon Geelong and Melbourne are going to join together like a cojoined twin with Ling and Reiwoldt for a head. Maybe I’m going to end up surfing an iceberg in Alaska to get away from it all. Or maybe I’m going to get filthy stinking rich and forget all about finding shark eggs on the beach or listening to Gold 104 on the way home from a surf and I’m going to build a gigantic gaudy disgusting palace like Tony Montana’s digs in Scarface overlooking Wategos and I’ll mount a vintage Malibu on the wall and marry some douchebag in a Hawaiian shirt with shares in a black diamonds and desalination plants.
Or maybe just maybe I’m going to become the mayor of Australia and I’m going to seal off a rugged part of coastline and the only people who are allowed to live there are people who don’t think pissing in your wetsuit when its cold is gross. There will be a test to be a resident. You don’t have to be any good at surfing (I suck) but you do have to paddle out. Maybe you get prime real estate to pitch a yurt on if you know how to gut a fish. Or how to be content with some mates, some olives, a bottle of Rid, the sky…I know you’re with me on this. I’ll go work on the campaign.