Thursday, January 25, 2001


There is no sound more unholy than a windsurf board breaking in half beneath your feet.

When a normal surfboard meets its doom, it's usually inside a wave, where you don't hear it.

But landing a crazy high jump badly -- the death sounded like a thunderclap sent from hell, the universe of motion and light ripping asunder in a god awful crack, followed by pieces of board and rider rapidly separating in several directions.

Thus ends my windsurfing endeavor.

I saw J today, briefly. (before the ill fated trip to Ho'okipa) Even a heartless old curmudgeon like me gets emotional twangs now and again. Sigh.

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