The Art Of Falling

This is one of those moments that have not occurred since early youth. I lie sprawled out on the ground holding on to the grass kicking and screaming....... "Noooo, I don't wanna go!!!". The assailant has each leg locked in the tug of war supergrip between bicep and ribcage. Like a reverse wheelbarrow contest. They have perfect leverage positioning. I try to hold my ground...literally. I get Zen on their ass and imagine I am a tree anchored to the earth with roots stretching twice the depth of my branches. Nope, didn't work.

I am back on earth, or Chicago that is. Feels cold, kinda like Pluto or something so undeniably neglected from the sun. But last I heard Pluto wasn't even a planet. It's the moon of some other distant planet. So after learning that ridicules nursery rhyme to remember "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, etc...... All revolving around the sun... Nine big planets in the sky" it turns out it was only 8/9th's true or 11% wrong. Let's go with 89% right cause that gives us a B+ average and that's purdy good. I know we are all busy with Christmas already so striving for the A isn't worth the time you'd have to pass up for important things like: Stopping on the commercial for Chia Pet and watching thru to completion. It really does look magical how those eerie weeds grow and resemble a clown, bunny, Mr. T or other extinct but cute green haired chia animal (What is this Chia?) . Come on, fess up. You all know you are addicted to watching Chia Pet commercials and most late night infomercials. The work-out ones suck because they try to guilt you into feeling bad because you don't do 8 minutes of abs ever single day. I prefer the food-o-mercials. The nifty thrifty mini-chopper/mixer is my current favorite. Did you see that guy with the random fake accent whip up those fresh juice concoctions. Damn, it looked good.. and fresh. And take note, don't you feel like the product is a bit more reputable if a foreign speaking person sells it to us. Authenticity oozes from their mouth as they spit out the "Look how EEEEEEasy it makes life, or look how GOOOOOOOOD you look, or three EEEEasy payments of $49.95. Boom! I'm sold. It's like momentary hypnotism. Do they use American accents to sell stuff in Europe. Do we sound reputable. I know I don't cause I have the Chi-Kaa-go accent which is second only to Brooklyn in terms of non-believability. I sound like a used car salesmen with bad intent if I don't keep it in check.

Anyways, I am back from Kauai, Hawaii. It is the greatest place on earth second to Brooklyn (I had to throw that in to make up for my former slander about two sentences ago). So this amazing second greatest place on earth was 80 degrees every day. Lush as the Garden of Eden and had surf breaks everywhere in sight. I was a beginner but a quick learner. I started out with a brief lesson on the sand. I listened fairly intently and tried to focus. Surfing 101. I have a short attention span so about 5 minutes into the crash course I said "Got it!" like I had just figured out an elementary algebra theorem Y+ Z = X where Y is surf lesson; Z is hot native surfer girls in thong bikini's and X equals impending disaster.

I took my 10 foot long fiberglass death sled and headed for the surf. I started slowly getting up on whitewater waves. This is where you ride on a wave that already broke. This has the difficulty level similar to grabbing the tow rope on the bunny hill while snow skiing. With this whitewater lesson accomplished I puffed out my chest and blew on my fingernails while motioning the hang loose hand signal to signify "Surfs Up/Piece Of Cake". My friend Selma, arrived from Maui as I dry out (burn) on the beach and she asks if I wanna catch some waves. I throw a "Kawabanga.... Right On.....Most Righteous" and other island slang I picked up at the surf shop or rather imagined surfers would say. She ignores my stupidness. I should have probably focused on getting a crash helmet. Yep, they have em for surfing. We walked down the beach a bit and stopped to study the waves. The direction of break, the speed, the height, the wave sets swelling up in the distance. I am learning that this is important to get a good read so you know what you're in for. I read, "Oh Sh*t, these are big waves, I could die or worse, get discovered as a novice surfer." I don't think the milky white skin with lack of even minimal sun exposure could tip anyone off that I am a novice. Not at all. Plus my board is twice as long as everyone else and I am wearing a bright yellow rental vest to protect me from getting a rash from rubbing up against the board all day. I'm sure the pro's wear a yellow garment to prevent rug burn of the chestal region too. This fluorescent garment partnered with my bright white flesh is a statement of fashion here on the islands. It's a statement of "GET OUT OF MY WAY CAUSE I'M CRAZY OUT OF CONTROL" that's hitting the runways in Milan and Paris (Pear-ree) this winter. It attracts spectators from all over the region. Come watch the novice die trying. The trendy yellow brings out my pigment and I think you can actually see the blue blood pumping nervously through the veins in my pale legs. The good thing about the fluorescent vest is that it lets the experts know that I have no clue how to surf, can barely swim and have trouble even falling correctly. Who knew there was a correct way to fall. I'm not used to falling and never practice the act much myself. I go out of my way not to fall. There is an art to falling? Wow, is there an art to slipping as well? How about tripping? I go out with Selma and these waves are HUGE. If they look big while on-shore then waves appear mammoth when they rage towards you. I took my skills from my whitewater days (a few moments ago) and swam to catch the biggest wave I had ever encountered in the ocean. It was probably a six footer by guestimation and I caught it. Nice, no problem. Now, what do I do? Problem. I slide so quickly down the face of the wave and freeze. Now the wave is 6 feet above and waiting to trash me. A little to much weight forward and I face plant and then the wave comes killing down on me. This is called pearl diving. Head first into the breaking wave. I rattle around underwater for about 10 seconds getting pulled and spun with as much grace as a shoe in the dryer. I come up gasping and looking around for my surf board. Less because I need it to float and more because it can break my face if left unattended and whacks me up side the head.

I'm thinkin, "Wow, that was terrible surfing, bottom of the barrel". My friend Selma yells out a "Woo Hoo, Nice Job". The feeling in my gut is to abort mission but I grab my board and swim back out to the abyss. I caught about 5 huge waves and I have every reason to be in a body cast. But, I made it. I didn't ride a single wave all the way through. I got killed every time but I learned how to fall. The art of falling is what it's all about. If you can fall correctly then you actually have a chance of learning. It takes alot of patience and you have to understand that it's not about beating the ocean. She wins every time. It's about knowing how to ride with it, not controling it. That is the key.

That and suntan lotion about 45 spf. Lotion that thick is like a lather on turtleneck sweater. It never rubs in. It's like putting primer on your skin. It looks more like a skin condition than a protectant. And it totally sucks when you miss that demented diamond shape area in the center of your back that your hands can't quite reach (You can't ask someone to rub 45 spf on you because their hands will remained stained like they just finished painting Huck Finn's picket fence). This is like the only point on your body you can't touch. Can't even see it if you crane your neck over your shoulder. It's like the forbidden back diamond destination where no spf can be applied. It holds unforeseen itches that you can't scratch naturally. You need to enable the assistance of a stick or "Electronic Ionized Diamond Square Scratch Backer (c)" . Maybe we can have an English accented Brit sell it on late night TV for three EEEEasy payments.


Marty Casey