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True stoke over the esophagus

March 17, 2016
Okay, out in the water. A variety of uneven closeouts–but enough about the people in the water. I was out there to get stronger in preparation for a very complicated surgery, I have to use the tweezers to pulk out the wishbone in the knee of the guy in the operation game. Not really, surgery on the esophagus, which I’ll probably go through in a mere six hours! But I want to be strong, so I’ll maske it. And the surf and comedy hjave always been my feeding areas. So I go to my strength (Although comedy last Monday–werll that set wasn’t so strong, but when in doubt blame the audience! Or the dirty comic before you whbo said the f-word, talked about sex and anal bleaching, but enough on Amy Schumer’s guest set).
So I was out surfing, catching a few short rides. There were the usual suspects out there, scamming waves, but I simply ignored their presence, I just paddled around and looked for my openings, which means not making eye contract with anyone as I grimly paddle past them so they don’t try to snake me. And sincer being diagnosed with cancer in my esophagus, just know I had that was enough to keep these people from penetrating into my head, I had no room for them in my head, because it was overcrowded by so many others who arrived their earlier for the show.
So I was out surfing…I kicked out of this one wave for a guy who was clearly a good surfer, but he had that low to the water LA-snake style opf paddling, he went by like a crocodile–didn;t see his board, just this red eyes above the water. But I think because I kicked out, we established an acknowledged but not spoken connection–it said, you know what I did, so do the same for me, but if you don’t, then you are a pure sack of evil..
Oh, so I was out surfing…a set wave comes, I see the LA snake paddle out to my left, but he looks over and lets me go, I spring up, get ready to drop, and a clueless person is paddling right in front of me.
“Whoa” I go, shifting ,y board slightly as I hang at the top of the cresting wave.
He slightly moves, I shift, still hanging at the top of the throwing wave. Then I move my feet up for the front of the board and drop in just below the throwing lip and shout to a guy I know in the water, “I made it!” And I laugh and shoot down with the late takeoff–and zing, like being in the sllnging in the curved powered pouch of a snapping water whip, trimming across the zipping wave just tucked in the curvilng pocklet, making iut cleanly across, and laughing and smiling with the stoke throwing out inside me and filling me out beyond myself with as glow and throb in my head.
I know I’m not going to get a better wave than that. So I paddled in. Stumbled slightly from some neuropathetic feet,v Laid the board down, sat on a rock and looked at the ocean, thinking how lucky I am to be doing this, having this, and pleased that I made a good decision to leaver, because most of the waves afterwards were useless in the lowering tide!
A couple surfers I knew wished me luck and expressed their support, and I simply said I appreciate your concern because it givers me strength beyond myself–huh, I thought, as cancer tries to get me it’s going to tough, because all the people who are concernerd about me–well, I’m still stoked and riding that wave.


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