Andy

"o herói que humanizou o surfe."

So soon

"We'd always planned on remembering Andy Irons forever. We'd just never planned on starting so soon."

Possible cause of death: overdose of methadone

Morreu Andy Irons, um dos campeões mais intensos da história do nosso desporto.

Notícia completa aqui.

Aloha, Andy. Aloha.

Ode a Stephanie Gilmore

Thank you Steph Gilmore. [...] For resembling a spawning salmon in women’s professional surfing and for just being a babe. [...] For smiling so much before, after and during heats. [...] For being feminine but still drinking beers. [...] For not wanting 10, unless of course it happens anyway. [...] And finally, for the future — when you realize you’ve accomplished all you ever desired in the competitive realm, and thus walk away at your peak to marry a Californian goofyfoot with a deceptively sick layback and zeal for rum. — C.S. Louis


Well Steph, I suppose I thank you too.

Worst wipe out ever?

Tyler Right

A Steph que se cuide...

Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket

If it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with
self-love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Charles Bukowski, So you want to be a writer