last chance for paradise
The Elizabethians thought of the orgasm as being similar to death, reaching a state bordering on the unconscious, ecstacy, quietude. Now I am there.
Good night Sweet Bill, may bands of angels sing me to my rest.
Started screaming at me not to tell her what to do, that she was a surf instructor at some school down at the shores, that she was a surf professional, blah blah blah,
I repeated my advice to her --- she responded with her screams.
I paddled away, did some surfing, went in, and hoped she survived without Dying..
Why is it that some people can not take some kindly advice given to insure their safety and the safety of others. It is quite possible that the Loco Local would run her sweet ass over and not even think twice about the carnage, leaving the spoils for the sharks.
I, myself, am truly thankful for the good advice given to me over the years from local surfers when I ventured into their breaks without the knowledge of etiquette and where to properly ride the wave in relation to the rip, the swell, the reefs, the sharks and the bad locals.
I believe others should have the same gratitude. With crowded beaches and waves, people need to think when in the Water.
When I was a small child, I thought like a small child, with wonderment and truth at the surrounding world; when I was a teen-ager, I thought like a teen-ager: with my Dick; when I became a young man, a responsible young man with a wife and children, I joined the race of humans doing the 9 to 5 and started thinking like a member of the human race; after the first divorce, the kids grown, the sea still in my blood I began thinking again in unison with the sweet Pacific Ocean; and now after the second big D and the entering into the autumnal years of my stay on this majestic orb, I have reverted to my childhood thoughts of one with truth and inquiry and the sea. I again speak my mind as my thoughts flow forth from the Sea, and I continue to cry Bullshit at all the crapola that the human race spews forth from it's intestines and mouth.
You ask, "B.A., why this philosophical bent?"
And I respond: "I just had my annual check up, and the doctor told me the melanoma is still dormant, the elbow needs repair, and the Big P is like that of a fifteen years old Boy." And I think about the final resting place and I wonder if it will be as quiet as a six foot south swell wrapping in at the West Point when all the gremms are in school and all the Suits are working and only me and my Bad Boy friends are out to frolic in the tubes.
And I take off on a seven foot face, going left down the Line, lip coming over me, moving faster, as I get deeper into the Wave, back into the funnel, water flowing over me, door starting to close in front of me, oxygen becoming purer with the ions from the pounding wave, the sounds humming in my ears, and then everything collapses, and I know that I did not make this one and I am wondering, will I now, finally, die in peace.The Elizabethians thought of the orgasm as being similar to death, reaching a state bordering on the unconscious, ecstacy, quietude. Now I am there.
Good night Sweet Bill, may bands of angels sing me to my rest.