THIS BLOG SUCKS

Yesterday I had an epiphany of sorts.

In the bottom right hand corner of this page is a button to Shiny Stat, a hit counter that I check every couple of days, more out of habit than anything, just to see who's popped by.

One section in there tells me the referrers, sites that have a click through to me, the one place where specific addresses come up. Checking it yesterday I saw three references from a blog called Your Surf Blog Sucks.

Of course I clicked through and saw that indeed, my blog did suck. I wrote in Australian, which made it at times hard to understand. Lame photos. So so writing, and, indeed, I am an angry man who most likely will reply to said critique with some aggression or whatever.

Not so.

Though my first reaction was I was gutted, because this blog is a personal thing. On reflection, though, the angry guy at the other end has done me a favour.

I thought back to my motives for beginning it, and why I do it now.

The first post I ever did was as an attempt to connect with the family of a young Cali surfer who died on Nias around 6 years ago. Nothing came of that post, but it began a journey that has seen me connect personally with people around the world.

When I made Musica Surfica, and had the opportunity to travel, these connections became flesh and blood, people who would become real friends, and who I know, notwithstanding the geographical separation, would be people I'd happily share lineups, laughs and meals with for years to come.

Continuing the blog, and dipping in and out of many of that group at left, and others since discovered, keeps that connection going. I see Ras's face when I read Kuyah, Teddo at Six Foot and Perfect I've watched develop as an artist and shaper, and admired his grace when 5 minutes after meeting him, he put up with me retiring to the hotel bathroom and blowing out a retaining wall, such was the state of my travel raddled guts.

Surfsister, well I literally ran into her and dinged Novice Surfer's new fish.

In New York, Shipworm and Gribble became Mike, and Endless Bummer became Toddy.

A beautiful lady named Pineapple Luv interviewed me.

A surfing lawyer in England wrote a bestseller and sent me The Book.

And I had a surf with a one time Buddhist monk who wrote one too.

My Dear Old Dad reads it, and I love it that he does.

The blog became about connection.

We share our surfing world, and our world as fathers, mothers, lovers, friends.

The dig about the writing, well... perhaps I get lazy at times, and just belt it out. When I've become inspired I'll share a poem, or an insight. Whether the writing is good or not, that's up to the reader. I've tried to not be self conscious about it, I try to keep it simple. I'm not writing to show off.

This is me.

The photography. Sometimes the shots are a quick snap of a lineup. At other times, I'll make an effort. You can tell the difference. The one thing you will notice is that if you hunt through the months and years of this blog, and consider I am a one surf a week city surfer in a city with its nearest waves eighty minutes away, I am a very lucky man. We live in a wonderful part of the world.

That I hope to live closer soon is without doubt, but family and work demand me here now.

Today's pic then, is me, just turned 56, as taken by my son Joey. I'd turned around while cleaning the shed, he caught me unawares, and I do look serious.

Behind me on the wall are a couple of boards. Sandwiched in between two thrusters is a finless made for me by Derek Hynd. In the rear left is a sculpture I made that is dedicated in the most oblique way to my wife Sue. Next to that and out of sight is a portrait I'm trying to finish of Joey. Out of sight on the other side.. skateboard decks, too small wetsuits, fins and skim boards, detritus of growing boys.

A happy place, fronted by an apparently angry man.

Perhaps so. Dealing with a mid teen in full flight has got me by the nuts, and it has occasionally crept into my writing. It gets it off my chest, people write in and say, yep, I have one of them too, or yikes, mine are about to get there.

I made a surf movie and lost the house. Blame the GFC, or wonderful timing. Again, get it out, communicate. Don't go mad.

So cheers to Your Surf Blog Sucks. You've done me a favour. I'll try to pick up my game, and while my blog may suck, I love it just the same.

And I will continue to write in Australian. Oddly enough, I am one.