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Astoke Retreat

June 2, 2015

Went down to the surf spot. There parking was packed, Grim-faced women covered with tats and driving huge SUVs and trucks. Scowling and walking around like they were marching. Tons of foamies out in the water.  I figured I had too good a time yesterday. Swell had a little too much south on it, so it was closing more often and there was wind on it, and I knew the tide was going to fill in quickly. Saw a couple guys standing on the cliff pointing and shaking their heads at the idiots. Couldn’t get pumped up to go out. Going out in it would feel like heading into a job you don’t like. Sometime I can, but today I thought being in the water with today’s crowd wasn’t going to be a good feeling. I thought, go back home, read a book, polishing the novel Slow Pitch, and my cancer act. Not a TED talk–a FRED talk. Wanted to go with the good energy, not having it sucked out of me. It was a relief to put my wetsuit back in the trunk and drive away. It’s a nice day. It’s a good thing this crowd doesn’t know the difference, but then again, that’s the problem.

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