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the RIPPIN and the TEARIN

Hello everybody,
Hope you are well. I am quite well, although having irregular sleeping patterns and semi odd dreams. I had one where I was an older dude from Arizona who’d been to hedonism 40 times and wore my speedos well high and did a funny dance. This is not a ‘dad dance’. This is much more dark and unsettling than a dad dance.

The fourth and third best things I’ve seen in the past week (that dream was 5th) were in the old town of San Juan, Puerto Rico. In all honesty, I found PR to be a bit of a shit pit. It’s joint bottom of places I’ve been on surf trips to, with Morocco. The exception was the old part of San Juan, which is one of the best places I’ve been to. Even if there was no running water for 36 hours, i.e. no showers, no sinks, no flushing dunny, it still ruled. By the start of the 37th hour, the pile of plop in my hotel room (Howard Johnson Inn) was actually like a mountain of bangers and mash and came out above the horizontal plane of the bowl. I am a vegetarian and have a very efficient gut. I poo about 5 times per day, one of the reasons I am almost always in a good mood. Anyway, two things struck me about the old town, the old woman who sang like an angel each day cleaning the steps outside the cathedral (4th) and the coffee stand (3rd). The woman had an amazing voice that floated and soared around the cobbled streets like a rare blue/green parrot. She was dressed in rags and had a bent back and was awesome. She is the most soulful woman I have ever seen in North America. The coffee stand was bullhiddy. Amazing. It was frequented by hookers, whores, judges, politicians, sewage system workers, policemen, jokers, steers, queers and occasional gringos like me. It was 1 dollar 25 cents for a cortadito and it’s the best fricken cortadito in the world. There was a big fat woman serving with long fake fingernails and a big attitude. She was awesome too. Her baps were the size of a brown cow.

This is the coffee stand. Yeah, I know it’s a shit pic. I never said I was a photographer.

The second best thing I’ve seen was Ralf (2nd). I saw him at 7am crouched under a cliff in Laguna Beach, CA with clouds of smoke around him. I think it must just have been a ciggy (not allowed to smoke cigs on the beach in America). He had gray hair, a tan, and was about 60 years old. He found something on the beach, which looked like a sword, he was swishing and swooshing it on the rocks in an imaginary joust. Then he paddled out on a longboard. These are the exact words we exchanged when he got to da peak.
Ralf: “Any of you fuckers drop in on me, I’ll cut your balls off.” (really loud booming voice. I am not making this up).
He pulled out the sword and it was just that, a plastic toy sword.
Me: “My ball bag will break that thing, it’ not sharp enough to tackle my sackle.”
There were three Chinese Mexicans on longboards who just looked nervous like they didnt really get it. Ralf cracked up and we were instant buddies. A set came and all three Chinese Mexicans dropped in on me. It was only 1-2ft. When they got back to the peak Ralf boomed: “You guys are fucking horrible man! He’s laughing now, but if the waves were bigger, he’d be pissed off at you guys, and so would I. You’d better smoke him a cone to say sorry you assholes…” (OK so it prob wasnt a ciggy after all).
He then asked where I was from and I told him. He said (shouted), “Man, I moved to London in ’66 for my dad’s work. We lived in Barnet, then moved to Royal Leamington Spa.” (Ralf was literally going from legend to total legend with every word that thundered out of his lips. The more words he said the more I liked him.)
“I moved from England in ’68 to Laguna Beach. England sucked for a kid. Then I moved here and it was awesome. There was weed, acid, hippies, hot chicks, communes, and other stuff, and I did em all…”

Royal Leamington Spa.

The best thing I did done seen was Damien Hardman (1st, in Puerto Rico). I keep going on about it, but Dooma is totally new school. He’s sick. They are doing that legends thing (Again??? Zzzzzz) in Hawaii and I dunno why they didn’t invite Dooma. I certainly would have.

Dooma: Sick c**t. Any questions?

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