Monday, July 04, 2011

I do a lot of sitting waiting for things to happen.

Send emails out to space waiting for something to come back. Sometimes an idea might pop into the head and I run with it, or watch a render bar snail its way across a screen, the tap of finger on desk beating a rhythm out, frustration music you might call it, waiting, looking at that display, waiting something else.

Waiting and wondering what that kid of yours is doing, or waiting and wondering how the rent is going to get paid this month, dreading that first day of the new month when it is past the rent has just been paid, to soon the rent will be due.

Of course some of that waiting is spent waiting after trying to make things happen, and sometimes they do.

A couple of days ago I set a ball rolling, and in six weeks or so, that ball will, or won't, begin to turn. While I juggle one, I try to juggle another.

I hate the screen, and love it too, because when you're not waiting, little bits of magic happen, though they lack the stick and texture of paint, or the drag of pen and pencil.

Curious business this, making stuff up, letting your mind run a bit and wondering what might pop up.

Like this post.

Rendering is happening so short of sucking up every bit of remaining memory doing some major other, you get the booby prize, and read this.

A mention of things aqueous naturally fits the bill, and despite a swell report about as flat as it ever gets around here, I did manage a paddle out at one of those little nooks that delivers the goods when all else is ripples.

Found by walking through canopied pathways and windswept dune, it's a little reef named after a Popular English Pie. Barely breaking, but here and there something, crowded with six young guys who, as I sat in their midst, indulged in a conversation of hilarious paint peeling crudity, while happily depriving the old fart of every wave that came in.

Cunning (or patience) though gets the waves, and while the full tide turned into a one foot deep airdrop for a two foot wave, a slight drop in tide allowed the outside to tip over and the sets started to work further out... but only after everyone had gone in and I'd sat for a bit.

I was freezing, but I managed three or four smilers.

Worth the walk, the wait, and the wind.

Shots: the shrouded path, and a couple of waves. The left has a boogie boarder clean dry tubed, and invisible. I swear he's there. Useful things, those little boards.

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