Surfing, Skateboarding, Music, Photography, Travel, Culture and general antics of the youth on the run.

Dear Youth A psychedelic trip in Bali

Bali Surfing Dear Youth What Youth

There is some trippy shit going on in Bali right now. We were going to edit this dispatch from Dion down, combine it with some information about the trip and why it’s going down, pull quotes out, etc, but this note we got from Dion last night does a way better job of relaying what it’s all about, so why dilute it? Why take the zest out of Dion’s voice? Straight from the heated jungles of Bali where Dion and Ozzie have been pulling into foam parties and hunting muddy magic mushroom ramps:

Shit yeah travvvvy wish you were here, having the hellest time! Best crew ever, boys are ripping too. Ozzie has been getting so goddamn tubed its ridiculous! It’s day three and he has gotten more barrels than anyone in Bali. The heat right now is fucking crazy and we have been surfing a few secret spots that you have to hike a giant goat trail to get to. It’s probably the scariest thing over I’ve ever done. It’s about 2-foot wide and a vertical drop about 200 metres down, you’re so sweaty by the time you reach the bottom you feel like you’re going to pass out. Blake (Myers) is the man. He has been filming trash bags flying in space and Ozzie spray painting smiley faces on Warren (Smith). It’s awesome. The best thing about being in Bali with Ozzie is his mad surf froth. He has more energy than a 14 year old grommet hopped up on Mountain Dew. Watching him surf is so awesome, he has more fun than anyone I’ve ever seen. —Dion

Surfing road-trip dear youth what youth

Dear Youth The fun that leads to sleep paralysis

“Never trust a thought that didn’t come from walking.” That’s a quote by an old madman by the name of Friedrich Nietzsche. He’s an existential pioneer and had one hell of a dark passenger throughout his life. But the man sure did drop some wisdom while he was here. I bring this up as a bit…

Coffee Sightglass San Francisco What Youth

Dear Youth A Treatise on Art and Coffee

Coffee is a drug. That’s masked by ubiquity and social acceptance but it’s just hot speed. Black hot wonderful speed. That thought lingered last Saturday morning as a nice young man in a waxed-cotton apron and mustache — and not a November mustache, but a real annual subscription to the thing — fixed my Guatemalan…

Sign up for letters from What Youth


By enabling this page, you are acknowledging and accepting our privacy terms and conditions.