good things are great

I don't know if I want to write about things relating to Lamb and his current state of wig or misc life associated intrigues in the sense of activities and memories that, through text-based recollection, would massage my stoke gland.  I think the latter is ideal because I figure whenever I rant about myself I say the same stuff and I never re-read my blog with aims of continuity or any-sort of relation to previous posts..  Preaches of tears, stoke, hindsight and the fact that it seems to dictate 100% of my feels appear to be repetitive themes in the ways of me.  I feel like this year has projected me into a more matured state of being but really I think that I'm still as free of care as before but now I've got goals and goals mean that EVERYTHING matter's a little bit more than it did before.  This realisation was ideal and one that has pro's and con's in all facets of consideration.  Another classic case of accepting all things because all things equate to glory.  I think i'm ontop of my dollar scenario and the prospect of that gets my tail wagging because it's going to result in California, skateboarding and what I figure is my ideal lifestyle at this point in time....

All these things are well and good, much like myself at the moment, but I'm never really sure...  All this general stoke could be directly related to summer's maximum suntime preach and it's generous skating allowance. I can now skate after work, 7 days a week, I have been, it's been so sick, no need for dabbing tears when they're ripped from your eyes by the passing wind while mobbing.  I skate after work, froth all over the place, get tired, get bed early, get up so that i can get to work before 12 o'clock, make mo money, stoke to that fact and then skate again.  My day starts at the end of work and the froth runs around the clock.  I like the existence froth and stoke, without them I'd have nothing to strive for.

With that I'm brought to a potential cross road as this current weather scenario is furious [blog header] and will limit skate time.. the identification of aforementioned points (skate/stoke related) may keep all of that in check.. plus i've got more photos to look at than ever before. x^2

this blog is turning more into a diary.  

dear diary, i'm frothing.

Zak Maytum on Kozakov.  I'm beginning to concede defeat against my most recent euro trip's album in the sense that I'll never look through them but i'm not qualmed because, although them may be lost to time, they'll never be lost.  

Dalua 

Zen in a Czech forest.

Mitchtron 6000 pretending like he can be trusted to tie things to your roof

boo chadley

Reuboss in the Kitchen, testing lights but taking on his regular kitchen roll.  Don't mess with his shit or he'll poison you.

'dog'

not a dog, definitely a possum

definitely a dog.  the sickest one i know, probably even sicker than my own (impossible)  here she's tranqin whilst slaying the required highway k's in order to get some dog physio.  she's got no hipbones but she's been doing hydrotherapy to remove the need to bones thanks to bulk hip muscle growth.  it's so sick to see her run now, she runs everywhere because it doesn't hurt anymore.  mutual stoke.

h-rudd

t-crane

crank

misc dude sharlpin brunswick

chad elevating to next level tranq

one of the greatest peoples of my life recently departed to pursue a scenario that's been in her mind for as long as i've known her.  i was so lucky to have her company once again, albeit fleeting, before she went.  casual times that will be relived when i can once again fart in her presence/soil her food.

just a pair of tranq'd out dankers

I've always been a preacher of water-based activities..  It's basically defined my entire life, even to this day, a day where I rarely frequent water or enjoy the ultimate luxury of full immersion in a misc body of water.   My love has always been particularly focused on shacks and how to obtain them, but my life-long employment at a kayak vendor, an upbringing that involved a passion for paddle craft and an unrealised love for the dank, not in the sense of green stuff (which I unfortunately only just found out, having been preaching the glory of dank to the public for the last month.) but in the sense of stagnant water, naturally meandered compost stations, unknown danks of the sea and the encompassing feeling of knowing the dank has already sunk into your skin, most certainly your blood stream and will forever leave you with an unquenchable desire to balance tranquility and extreme dank.

As I reviewed the chances of tomorrow's kayaking trip, paying most consideration to the scene of Mitch passed out cuddling some welcoming bed vomit, I succumbed to the reality at hand and decided to go skateboarding before it was all too late...  I returned to an unchanged vomit status so i figured i'd just snooze this one out and hope it wasn't raining so I could skate tomorrow's day away.   Mitch woke me at 6:30.  I don't know how he managed to do anything that he would've needed to have done to be awake at this time of morning but I didnt care, I wanted to be in a kayak, I wanted to be in the dank.   We screwed up most things on the way to getting in the water but we got there (i got there, mitch immediately passed out in the car after waking me up and getting me to drive, an indisputable powerplay)

Mitch

a classic case of summing-up

Upon entering the water i was supremely stoked, the feeling of water's body is always epic and having the most glorious plastic craft between our bodies was in no way a drawback.  I dont think Mitch was in as good a space as me, a thought immediately clarified by Mitch's rapid banking, blatant disregard of land ownership and vomiting.

I was relaxed, the day was young and I knew Mitch would be back shortly so I vibed out with a swan and awaited the glorious return of Mitch.

the glorious return of Mitch

the next period of time (strict adherence to time-warp) was when we first began to feel the dank.   It grabbed at our legs (water based dank) before becoming meddling with everything, skin and mind alike...  The presence of dank was so strong we could bear only by full acceptance of the depth of it's dankedness.  Deep dank.  It was time to dank and the only way we knew we'd get through it was if we tranqd.   We figured our new desire to refer to everything as either dank or tranq would give us the edge on the environment that was closing in on us because, in the ghetto upper-reaches of a Pine based estuary mutilated by the flood, there is minimal tranq... maximum dank.

revelling in his footgloves and current levels of tranq, a young danker ignores the situation at hand.

I didn't shoot for 90% of the day.  The affect of the snakeskin dank and the general situation we found ourselves in, after snakeskin corner, distracted me from documentation.  I was still moderately keen to photograph stuff but a) 100% of my will was being used in diffusing the dank with a consistent and wholesome sense of tranq and b) we were kayaking through a swamp in which it seemed impossible to make any ground within because of the inescapable crackle of powerlines in the rain and c) it was raining and my dry hands would leak dank when I made a fist...  I hoped the rain would stop but it was actually quite tranq and I found the presence water not sourced from the dank to be very appealing..  I hoped the algae and moss that I drank earlier wouldn't make me shit and vomit myself until I sunk my kayak/coffin.

spent so long looking at this cloud that by the time i retrieved camera the tree had disguised all its glory

classic dank

this trip was last month, apologies for the foggy recollection..  I may have sustained minor head injuries whilst banking on some dank or perhaps proximity paddling a train-bridge pilon. 

impenetrable dank.

This bridge was a wig and alos where the outgoing tide placed the end of our journey.  We paddled with the current, making epic ground through unseen landscapes thanks to the shift in tide, glorying in knowledge we'd out dank'd the dank thanks to some hardy tranqing. At the time I didn't realise that the month, and who knows how many more, since this day would result in an unrelenting infection of my vocabulary and the proliferation of the words tranq, dank and any possible way I could join them 

tranq out with your dank out.