It is 11:33 p.m. as I begin.

Has been a long day.

Went 35 miles north of here,
to Santa Barbara
to meet with "Woody, the King"
early this morning.

Have to make sure
that he is going to make it
to Anaheim Sheraton tomorrow,
even if I have to throw him
in the trunk of my car to do it.

Humorously enough,
he assured me, right away,
that he had decided
several days ago
not to go.

But then he had been hounded
by a couple of his old teammates,
who have been at him for years now,
(that I personally know of
and have been involved with).

I would like to share,
in this regard,
a compliment which I recently heard,
regarding these matters.

It was from a 70 year old woman
who was a well known and respected
girl champion skateboarder
when she was much younger.

Her job is to get ALL of the inductees to the event.

Many of whom are notoriously difficult to locate
(they tend to travel all over the planet)
and then are very hesitant
to leave their latest favorite surf spot.

She had been speaking
with all of the hall of fame inductees
from each decade,
and she said,
(I am paraphrasing)

"You know, it's strange. 
All of you 60's guys are still hanging together. 
You ALL are still in communication with one another
and very aware of what each other are doing and where each other are.  And you are ALL still looking out for one another."

She continued by telling me that we
are the only ones who she could say this about.

She also shared an interesting story
about her experience
at the Makaha team reunion
last year.

She explained that most everyone in the room
were fiercely competitive surfers when younger,
but now much older. 

Upon leaving,
her 35 year old daughter
(a competitive skateboarder,
with her own team)
turned to mom and said,
"I have never seen
so many old dudes
in Hawaiian shirts
in one place".

I looked down at my shirt
as she told me the story.

sure enough,
there it was.

Hawaiian shirt.

Old dude?

that I'm not so sure about.

Apparently neither were
all of the 1960's
and 1970's surf champions,

Oh, how cruel life can be.

As has been so well remarked
in the past,

"Youth (truly) is wasted on the young".

So, touchet, I say.

At any rate,
I am nervous as a cat
pacing all about the room.

We shall see.

Am looking forward to this day.

Should be fun.

On a more mundane note,
I thought I would try my hand
at quiet choral composition,
once again, tonight,
before collapsing into a heap
on the floor.

I just finished
setting up another
four synthesizers,
at the first of the month,
for a total of twelve.

The two songs
immediately preceding this
are an attempt
to tame this very wild beast.

The "strings" sound
far more like
a brass section to me.

This is the funny thing
in the world of sound synthesis
and sampling.

It doesn't always work out
as one might expect.

Especially when you are purposely
pushing everything to the limits
and then as far beyond as possible
before blowing everything up
(and who said those nasty piano lessons
had to be boring, anyway?).

So, it is overdrive
(way too much "gain")
that turns strings
into trumpets and trombones.

Who would ever have thought that?

Not me, and that's for sure.

So, here I am.

Quiet choir
with strings
which sound like a brass section
run amok.

Sounds interesting.

Let's give it a try
and see what happens.

Oh, look 050813a happens.


I will let you know what I think later.

In the meantime
I had better lay down
and at least try and get
SOME rest
before dawn.

Wishing and hoping
the best
to all who are reading this
and to all those who are not
but who are continuously
on my mind
and in my heart
and prayers.

and may God bless.

w/abundant love
borne of grace
and thanksgiving,


11:53 p.m.
Ventura, California, USA