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

Forced Creativity In a Musty Place Or, the art of throwing empty pint glasses at a laptop and expecting results

what youth dear youth

“Writing is the flip side of sex — it’s only good when it’s over.” —Hunter S. Thompson

 Editor’s note: Here’s something(one) new. James Royce is a young surfer/writer dude from California who’s been submitting and writing a few things here and there for us. Just another one of us trying to navigate all this shit we find ourselves in and make sure there’s a surf or two mixed in. I liked this. Probably because he went into a bar and left with something more than just a good buzz. Anyway, meet James. —Travis

 I’m writing this from a dark spot. Literally. The light above me is flickering. I’m at my local dive bar. A place walking distance from my house. It has all the classic characteristics. Cracked red booths, clientele that could be easily be Beyond Thunderdome stand-ins, a general air of destitute. You’d be forgiven if you mistook it for a truck stop with a liquor license. But the beer’s cold and cheap so I’m happy.

I promised myself I’d have a completed article by now. Five-hundred or something words on something. Anything. A short story perhaps. Maybe a science-fiction drama. Something about a man who invents a time machine just so he can fuck around with the course of history. Give Krotons a bunch of steroids to freak out the Spartans during the first Olympics. Hand Bruce Brown a RED camera then surprise Mike Hynson and Robert August at Cape St. Francis by paddling out on a thruster. Kidnap Joseph Stalin and make him watch Vines Clockwork Orange style. But then I hated that idea as soon as I opened up a word document. There’s no glory sounding like a discount Philip K. Dick.

So I looked elsewhere. Towards surfing. I watched Turtle Bay Resort’s premier awards show. (Hey, Chapter 11 won movie of the year — that’s a bit epic.). But I couldn’t find anything to get fired up about between all the backslapping. Then I remembered Pipe is coming up. But then I realized I barely know who’s in the world title race as I haven’t watched a contest since Lowers (RIP) and apparently a lot has happened since then. Ideas, dead ends, what’s allowed to live and die on the page all meshed into one. Anxiety started creeping in. I was stuck. Frozen. Was it finally time to drive out to the middle of the desert with a suitcase stocked full of various stimulants, hallucinogens, and libations? Do I go for a hard reset?

No. Dramatics never solve a thing.

And that’s how I ended up in the local haunt. This mildew ridden place. Where amenities like color TV, surround sound, and air conditioning are proudly advertised on a sign out front. One man’s daily conveniences are another’s technological triumphs. It’s funny, I’ve lived down the road from here my whole adult life yet have never made a conscious effort to drop in until now. The only reason I decided to saunter in three beers ago was because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Escape the stress. And now I don’t have any desire to leave. There’s no wifi — thus no distractions. The music’s good (new wave hits on heavy rotation) and I have a booth to myself. No one’s shot me a weird look while I pound away on my laptop. I have neither any complaints nor any intentions of leaving anytime soon. Hell, slamming an empty glass onto my keyboard and expecting results might be my soundest plan at this point. Going nuclear on the piss worked for Faulkner, Joyce, Bukowski and a slew of other greats. It’s worth a shot. And once I snap back to reality and realize I’ve failed spectacularly to get a thing done, home is just a short walk away. But I did leave with this in my laptop. It’s just as useful as it is useless. See ya soon. —James Royce    

 

 

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Kelly Slater Announces Outerknown And everyone (except us) freaks out because it’s expensive

I love Kelly Slater. Always have. For all the infinite reasons there are to love him: he’s a great rep for surfing, great surfer, great looking, great, great great. He’s a little conservative (maybe) at times — but not really. He’s open-minded, and that’s all I ask. And let’s keep in mind the dude’s 43 —…

what youth spain dear youth

Live from a little bit of everywhere Spain, Oregon, Bali, SF, Vancouver and maybe more. We’re coming.

I still haven’t found a way to ask for “more red wine” on an airplane without sounding like a mumbling, lunatic alcoholic. The sounds, the letters, the tight quarters and awkward seating arrangements on board. Just can’t get it. But somehow, they decipher my gibberish and continue to fill my glass. We’re currently a little all…

what youth dear youth jack london

Jack London Calling Surfing, Books and Drinking for your long weekend in the sun

Jack London is a writer — rather famous one too. He wrote The Call of the Wild, The Sea-Wolf, Iron Heel, White Fang and tons of other famous novels in the early 1900’s that you may have been told to read and probably didn’t. Turns out London wrote about surfing too. In 1907 he was…

dear youth what youth mitch coleborn

Misguided Men with a Journal The defining “SurfCore” article came out. And it sucks.

Before we get too deep, let’s remember anyone using Men’s Journal as a resource for fashion advice, or anything outside of Creatine dosage, probably doesn’t skate our ramp. But, they spoke about surfing. And style. And fashion. So we must acknowledge. (And talk shit.) So let’s begin. Here’s a sentence in the article, next to a…

Dear Youth Craig Anderson what youth surfing

Craig Anderson at Desert Point Full Gallery Photographed by Nate Lawrence

Editor’s Note: When Nate Lawrence calls and says he’s going to Desert Point with Craig Anderson, I mostly assume that Nate means he will be surfing alongside Craig, because Nate fucking loves surfing Desert Point and he more or less hates shooting Desert Point. But on this trip, he did a bit of both. And…

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Dane Reynolds is World Champ Why Sampler is so much more than a heat win

Why Sampler is so much more than a heat win

“It’s a weird feeling” Brendon Gibbens on being in Cluster

I was en-route back to South Africa from WA when Kai invited me to Europe for the Cluster tour. Without hesitation, I accepted the invitation, spent 10 hours in SA and then flew directly to Spain to meet up with Kai, minus the board bag. It’s a weird feeling to be in a Kai film….

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Humming ((Sounder)) C.S. Louis and the economics of a hangover purchase

Last night I was JD Rockefeller but the Latino version. Endowing the arts, buying kalimotxos, schmoozing Argentine musicians, spinning women and hailing cabs on a winterlike eve. Today I have $9.99. And perhaps more pertinently limited bandwidth, limited patience, fits of anxiety and tremoring hands. I tried to shred it off in two foot onshore slop but…

Friendly advice from a tax man Is this the end of experience?

Information overload

“It’s still not on!” The WSL learning surfing is still a shit show

While I’m quite certain Samsung Galaxy’s products are not for anyone, the WSL and Samsung may be learning the hard way that surfing is definitely not for everyone. A 9th 10th straight lay day has forced the WSL to extend the waiting period for the Quiksilver Pro until Friday the 13th, in turn costing them a…

Noa Deane fuck the wsl what youth surfing

On “Fucking the WSL” We never intended to get them so laid

I’ve got a bone to pick. And it aint with the ASP, WSL, PGA, NFL or any other softball leagues. At least not today. It’s with anyone who’s so sensitive that when Noa Deane (or anyone) “popped the inevitable zit” and publicly de-flowered the WSL that it was deemed so offensive to “surf culture” that he had…

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We saw Meatbodies at Thalia’s Wax Ball A sick monthly rock show in Laguna Beach

Keeping Laguna Weird with Thalia Surf Shop

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