tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21635925637822954482024-03-13T19:04:54.695+00:00Matéria liquidaWe are smaller than the sea and bigger than ourselves when we ride waves.Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-31260162967092495532012-03-30T02:08:00.002+01:002012-03-30T02:13:55.618+01:00Tem dias.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuh6sFaaOWKAXltBJp9KWsYxtoCfIpwvOXD-tPac_7pSEJdT54ZnpqcriI7HDnsb20hVgX8ukLX2siP8DeYVrfyZJ8PCBYxGrhQwRDZEP0TOfkZ5PWf8uY5HpEobfI-l4G84NJiQ7oW-oB/s1600/103.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuh6sFaaOWKAXltBJp9KWsYxtoCfIpwvOXD-tPac_7pSEJdT54ZnpqcriI7HDnsb20hVgX8ukLX2siP8DeYVrfyZJ8PCBYxGrhQwRDZEP0TOfkZ5PWf8uY5HpEobfI-l4G84NJiQ7oW-oB/s400/103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725491414013461474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcAYEBOKbenGuCJ7vITJ9sVgwN2zPcJNv3ZgGvEb7TxFWKQ8i-eYKR8j1QYjGGPp_lQds1YOllMfOizLyOoPLzVr7H6YVooZtXK995NA9D0WXdpQdCpWWzWu5v99l0yFWvf90mLdGvbUj1/s1600/085.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcAYEBOKbenGuCJ7vITJ9sVgwN2zPcJNv3ZgGvEb7TxFWKQ8i-eYKR8j1QYjGGPp_lQds1YOllMfOizLyOoPLzVr7H6YVooZtXK995NA9D0WXdpQdCpWWzWu5v99l0yFWvf90mLdGvbUj1/s400/085.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725491400875180258" /></a>De tanto nos debruçarmos sobre o mar, acabamos por vê-lo<div> (Ou então é ele que se mostra).</div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-75433854864638639622011-07-17T03:18:00.002+01:002011-07-17T03:22:22.809+01:00Há o mar há a mulher ( ou Uma forma de me despedir )<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGM9vWkr8mErr3d3P9r5f9vuWwvpEjwXldhumYk04NJp5mJStXBePvrDg2XTNwjf-x-f-Z7WMjF4mvJtVcc_17UuCFyXjp-GSXEQEKR59WQ59abY8cqQQPBC-dpnEQJB0P0ATaHgHVt0NB/s1600/IMG_0915.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGM9vWkr8mErr3d3P9r5f9vuWwvpEjwXldhumYk04NJp5mJStXBePvrDg2XTNwjf-x-f-Z7WMjF4mvJtVcc_17UuCFyXjp-GSXEQEKR59WQ59abY8cqQQPBC-dpnEQJB0P0ATaHgHVt0NB/s400/IMG_0915.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630140097694198594" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); line-height: 20px; "><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Ruy Belo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Há o mar há a mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">quer um quer outro me chegam em acessíveis baías</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">abertas talvez no adro amplo das tardes dos domingos</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Oiço chamar mas não de uma forma qualquer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">chamar mas de uma certa maneira</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">talvez um apelo ou uma presença ou um sofrimento</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Ora eu que no fundo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">apesar das muitas palavras vindas nas muitas páginas dos dicionários</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">bem vistas as coisas disponho somente de duas palavras</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">desde a primeira manhã do mundo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">para nomear só duas coisas</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">apenas preciso de as atribuir</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Não sei se gosto mais do mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">se gosto mais da mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Sei que gosto do mar sei que gosto da mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">e quando digo o mar a mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">não digo mar ou mulher só por dizer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Ao dizer o mar a mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">há penso eu um certo tom na minha voz sinto um certo travo na boca</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">que mostram que mais do que palavras usadas para falar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">dizer como eu digo a mulher o mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">mar mulher assim ditos</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">são uma maneira talvez de gostar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">e a consciência de que se gosta</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">e um prazer em o dizer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">um gosto afinal em gostar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Enfim o mar a mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">pode num dos casos ser a/mar a mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">mera forma talvez de uniformizar o artigo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">definido do singular</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Há ondas no mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">o mar rebenta em ondas espraiadas nos compridos cabelos da mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">que ela faz ondular melhor de tarde em tarde</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">no mês de setembro nas marés vivas</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">O melhor da mulher talvez o olhar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">é para mim o mar da mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">e à mulher que um só dia encontro na vida</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">de passagem um simples momento num sítio qualquer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">talvez a muitos quilómetros do mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">mas mulher que não mais consigo esquecer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">mesmo imerso na dor ou submerso em cuidados</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">a essa mulher qualquer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">eu chamo mulher do mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Nos fins de setembro quando eu partir</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">de uma cidade seja ela qual for</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">quando eu pressentir que alguém morre</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">que alguma coisa fica para sempre nos dias</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">e ou nuns olhos ou numa água</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">num pouco de água ou em muita água</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">onda do mar lágrima ou brilho do olhar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">eu recear seriamente vir-me a submergir</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">direi alto ou baixo conforme puder</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">com a boca toda ou já a custar-me a engolir</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">as palavras mar ou mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">com certo vagar e cada vez mais devagar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">mulher mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">depois quase já só a pensar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">o mar a mulher</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Não sei mas será</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">talvez mais que outra coisa qualquer</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">uma forma de me despedir</span></span><br /><br /></span>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-70586593059831126832011-06-15T18:58:00.002+01:002011-06-15T19:04:31.420+01:00A dream without stars is a dream forgotten.<ul><li><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></li></ul><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/18867695?portrait=0" width="400" height="225" frameborder="0"></iframe><br /><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(76, 76, 76); line-height: 22px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:14px;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=" ;font-size:18px;"><span style="font-weight: bold; ">Ó noite, porque hás-de vir sempre molhada!</span></span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Ó noite, porque hás-de vir sempre molhada!<br />Porque não vens de olhos enxutos<br />e não despes as mãos<br />de mágoas e de lutos!<br /><br />Poque hás-de vir semimorta,<br />com ar macerado e de bruxedo,<br />e não despes os ritos, o cansaço,<br />e as lágrimas e os mitos e o medo!<br /><br />Porque não vens natural<br />Como um corpo sadio que se entrega,<br />e não destranças os cabelos,<br />e não nimbas de luz a tua treva!<br /><br />Porque hás-de vir com a cor da morte<br />- se a morte já temos nós!<br />Porque adormeces os gestos,<br />porque entristeces os versos,<br />e nos quebras os membros e a voz!<br /><br />Porque é que vens adorada<br />por uma longa procissão de velas,<br />se eu estou à tua espera em cada estrada,<br />nu, inteiramente nu,<br />sem mistérios, sem luas e sem estrelas!<br /><br />Ó noite eterna e velada,<br />senhora da tristeza, sê alegria!<br />Vem de outra maneira ou vai-te embora,<br />e deixa romper o dia!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; ">Eugénio de Andrade</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">(1923-2005)</p><p></p>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-46339903764616777262011-04-09T06:12:00.003+01:002011-04-09T07:28:45.779+01:00Só.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWl_X4PFw2jlMMJhBDbwMP14DJ3GjQUzmzrUmif8wExsNkMrTDVsdPmMD14QEMiuBEGMHy0a2EUCz3cyCAlZGFVTzKj5kBz56A4n4KgidLFjf2JzjWxVLCCBCD1DhQDtkSyfBEvdDQOcEg/s1600/7352051.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWl_X4PFw2jlMMJhBDbwMP14DJ3GjQUzmzrUmif8wExsNkMrTDVsdPmMD14QEMiuBEGMHy0a2EUCz3cyCAlZGFVTzKj5kBz56A4n4KgidLFjf2JzjWxVLCCBCD1DhQDtkSyfBEvdDQOcEg/s400/7352051.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593447512589778898" /></a><br /><div>Sozinho. <div>Hoje sai de casa sozinho. </div><div>Guiei 150km para sul. Para estar sozinho no mar. </div><div>Um sozinho bom, não daqueles assustadores. </div><div>Consegui surfar sem ninguém na água durante 3 horas. Depois apareceu um outro surfista. Suponho que procurava solidão também. Fingimos os dois que não estávamos lá.</div><div>Era só eu e o mar. <div>O problema é voltar. </div><div>É sair do silêncio. </div></div></div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-58390464062041636862011-04-09T05:59:00.005+01:002011-06-09T17:36:02.942+01:00Hoje não fui ao mar.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwUg3hvQuC2qwf51R88cAGQysE_Ub80wExEQnTBbmiSDHHSXdY3uUTkY9iFnx6619FkqF0OKMkr1KhpE9bUxYN5F4GAEr3RZeWdvjW_bcMSY-4KDEkLSjzn6QSBPv6Zpd3VrpSUMMV4YI/s1600/photo-2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwUg3hvQuC2qwf51R88cAGQysE_Ub80wExEQnTBbmiSDHHSXdY3uUTkY9iFnx6619FkqF0OKMkr1KhpE9bUxYN5F4GAEr3RZeWdvjW_bcMSY-4KDEkLSjzn6QSBPv6Zpd3VrpSUMMV4YI/s400/photo-2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593444160842876530" /></a>Houve ondas. Das boas, das muito boas, o dia todo atrás daquela serra. E eu, prisioneiro da necessidade, sem vê-las sequer. Á distância infinita da impossibilidade. Á distância tangencial do desejo. A sabe-las lá. Do outro lado daquela serra. Que bela é. E o sol poente. E o estuário. E o mar, a começar, ao fundo. Mas a ditadura do prazer. A religiosidade da prática. Interrompidas. A tomarem, ainda que distantes, conta da contemplação. Hoje não fui ao mar. E também está bem assim. A ausência é a mais dolorosa forma de amor.Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-71095087135402088352011-02-23T21:18:00.001+00:002011-02-23T21:20:59.542+00:00HOJE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrYWKnUhVFhd2CU2bEvIaVAznQsqIynluc-ItiUnypEfxJ4eTvbsv5CuwdN3YY6nhx9LdGw4_Eo_0fZT54NPyZGfC2FsNnVfKZD1hc2_MT0CYEhsNL1_z0mgjXn7YcxFwmLUHu8f_dU5V/s1600/photo-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrYWKnUhVFhd2CU2bEvIaVAznQsqIynluc-ItiUnypEfxJ4eTvbsv5CuwdN3YY6nhx9LdGw4_Eo_0fZT54NPyZGfC2FsNnVfKZD1hc2_MT0CYEhsNL1_z0mgjXn7YcxFwmLUHu8f_dU5V/s400/photo-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576997570672741410" /></a>Há dias assim, que nos prometem felicidade e futuro. E sorrisos. E algum sentido para tudo isto.Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-26113827104314051662011-02-19T05:23:00.001+00:002011-02-19T05:26:23.016+00:00Ease down the road.<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JsovcbynHKg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />Barrels, Tubos. Our time machines.Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-25363564456227435332011-02-19T04:46:00.004+00:002011-02-19T04:52:11.568+00:00so simple, so much.<div class="video"><br /></div><div class="video"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; ">Some people spend their entire lives seeking out the biggest and most perfect waves… Well, Erik and Pat found theirs in the middle of one the most crowded surf zones in the world. Never mind it’s a half a foot.. Watch as they their share their little peelers with nobody around but an audience of frothing dogs.</span></div><div class='video'><object width="651" height="366"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=19906066&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=19906066&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="651" height="366"></embed></object></div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-66612738425357939062011-02-07T21:29:00.002+00:002011-02-07T21:34:49.452+00:00Hoje foi um dia de mar.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gVEbpH5T8_zudCp3G2fpROteQMqgVnSKSAcH-sxV77Cz9r5t7EBs2ILV9aZKlKEcRZu2SfxO3qt4kva_lPXAr4szFXYqoxqV_8WFrdavNLWxCJI7KXX1mhyphenhyphenkUdgZy2QZbpOauWDwtlVq/s1600/Picture+20.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gVEbpH5T8_zudCp3G2fpROteQMqgVnSKSAcH-sxV77Cz9r5t7EBs2ILV9aZKlKEcRZu2SfxO3qt4kva_lPXAr4szFXYqoxqV_8WFrdavNLWxCJI7KXX1mhyphenhyphenkUdgZy2QZbpOauWDwtlVq/s400/Picture+20.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571063198737010098" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "><b><span style="font-size:130%;">Um dia, gastos, voltaremos<br />A viver livres como os animais<br />E mesmo tão cansados floriremos<br />Irmãos vivos do mar e dos pinhais.<br /><br />O vento levará os mil cansaços<br />Dos gestos agitados irreais<br />E há-de voltar aos nosso membros lassos<br />A leve rapidez dos animais.<br /><br />Só então poderemos caminhar<br />Através do mistério que se embala<br />No verde dos pinhais na voz do mar<br />E em nós germinará a sua fala. </span></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "><b><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "><b><span style="font-size:130%;">Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen</span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "><b><span style="font-size:130%;">Dia do Mar IV ( 1947 )</span></b></span></div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-40882355237918837292011-01-30T03:40:00.001+00:002011-01-30T03:42:29.161+00:00Wisdom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAVdT4QJXAiRZJ4GVTuRAsX67aZYw2v8OKGsUgnar7uarLa3NEH_emHisTD5yQxowYzPNIJ6_rPTIJXUhRlT4B7qVOChxnfFbY1YkohWxMhOutUace1sC7tVbk5VuKrz1AtcLSu2JP6Hv/s1600/DSC03058.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAVdT4QJXAiRZJ4GVTuRAsX67aZYw2v8OKGsUgnar7uarLa3NEH_emHisTD5yQxowYzPNIJ6_rPTIJXUhRlT4B7qVOChxnfFbY1YkohWxMhOutUace1sC7tVbk5VuKrz1AtcLSu2JP6Hv/s400/DSC03058.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567818953979339858" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); line-height: 19px; "><strong>"I wish that when they asked us: What is surfing? I would have said it's a spiritual activity, and not just a sport, because that's what put us on the wrong track..."</strong><br /><em></em><br /><em>NAT YOUNG 1966 World Surfing Champion</em></span>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-59933602911459791902011-01-27T21:12:00.002+00:002011-01-27T21:29:59.275+00:00O surfista de Manuel Alegre<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrcaszY0PYCNNe0E0jmp0DUOh5gzp-mIo4vzbPicAwbk_JWFgXqbVNtTXrHHz64r1sSr8Va3iF1jA1xIT0vWY4IyD_vc7jeeMWt7I478HlhsUIxz83SURBDwH5LVFGpt5yVOgiE8b_IRW/s1600/001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrcaszY0PYCNNe0E0jmp0DUOh5gzp-mIo4vzbPicAwbk_JWFgXqbVNtTXrHHz64r1sSr8Va3iF1jA1xIT0vWY4IyD_vc7jeeMWt7I478HlhsUIxz83SURBDwH5LVFGpt5yVOgiE8b_IRW/s400/001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566976590518001826" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(25, 25, 112); line-height: 20px; font-family:verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:small;"><p><em>Surfista</em></p><em></em><p><em>De pé na frágil tábua<br />onda a onda ele escrevia<br />poesia sobre a água.<br />Era uma escrita tão una<br />de tão perfeita harmonia<br />que o que ficava na espuma<br />não se podia apagar:<br />era a própria grafia<br />do poema do mar.<br /></em></p><p><em>Manuel Alegre</em></p></span>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-46023309125395492812011-01-23T13:48:00.001+00:002011-01-23T13:48:27.971+00:00Ericeira back in the days.... Classic.<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SrEKauESmwk" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-55981178149647083482011-01-19T22:42:00.003+00:002011-01-19T22:46:04.661+00:00Os surfistas olham a vida do ponto de vista do horizonte.<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vIsXXZyzw9M?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vIsXXZyzw9M?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-23446906130453460232011-01-17T22:40:00.000+00:002011-01-17T22:41:49.105+00:00JUST BEAUTIFUL<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/P-VqTcQa7U0?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/P-VqTcQa7U0?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-49600881460852940432011-01-12T17:48:00.000+00:002011-01-12T17:49:42.100+00:00WINTERTIME AND THE LIVIN'S SNOWY<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NHhCbfDjyTE?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NHhCbfDjyTE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-29277039499449762532011-01-11T15:45:00.003+00:002011-01-11T15:52:51.839+00:00LEROY GRANNIS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO93lp2aP_97h2nc3F5dO42hgnmi40wWEliEeSmh4ZMHx49TICv1oX1-DyQ_gLwX7gR4eHYTLDIyadoAxpzeMTAynPgIUULtaAi_Mvt9R98Zn8gRYe8PoF-kgS4yKGH05WGT4SW7gN5rpQ/s1600/leroy1-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO93lp2aP_97h2nc3F5dO42hgnmi40wWEliEeSmh4ZMHx49TICv1oX1-DyQ_gLwX7gR4eHYTLDIyadoAxpzeMTAynPgIUULtaAi_Mvt9R98Zn8gRYe8PoF-kgS4yKGH05WGT4SW7gN5rpQ/s400/leroy1-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560955382469171090" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VuVzlw2P-WAuY9OktXYMHcv8NNEgSs5qavoJAL67dfW2z5KZyh8lRNy2C-lSEVom-G9reFZYHDR6SEwAEJbPV2hewcb5kg7zd2SFIodkdaFcprQG6pnX9zof8rhCx9gCnL1CK7BHXaTG/s1600/LGrannis0405a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VuVzlw2P-WAuY9OktXYMHcv8NNEgSs5qavoJAL67dfW2z5KZyh8lRNy2C-lSEVom-G9reFZYHDR6SEwAEJbPV2hewcb5kg7zd2SFIodkdaFcprQG6pnX9zof8rhCx9gCnL1CK7BHXaTG/s400/LGrannis0405a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560955378309797746" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPm0mKx_GkRsmC_ujuAn4fs1E7KWSddxeSPVVp_GdH7lWinCCKCk91ByleUXW-9kuqoUvDTNcF6Z-Zq25G49eIvxEjchfGgaUtpN_v45DYginuzqmuGazMCLDfh0PiFqg7rui4NkiS6lc2/s1600/grannis6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPm0mKx_GkRsmC_ujuAn4fs1E7KWSddxeSPVVp_GdH7lWinCCKCk91ByleUXW-9kuqoUvDTNcF6Z-Zq25G49eIvxEjchfGgaUtpN_v45DYginuzqmuGazMCLDfh0PiFqg7rui4NkiS6lc2/s400/grannis6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560955376927645138" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9kEPb9FLL_gLMcb2iGgK3LPMUWh_nipUOXO3OVmJaUD_rl4AZxSTpF6kLl_CqDck-ajfG0IiaheMfY3O1eZzQmrkQAU49Ecdpa-WSzQiPsPvShPQzgokjZyVkKwVLl_MfxWuw1nW9Xlr/s1600/artwork_images_423991310_319933_leroy-grannis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9kEPb9FLL_gLMcb2iGgK3LPMUWh_nipUOXO3OVmJaUD_rl4AZxSTpF6kLl_CqDck-ajfG0IiaheMfY3O1eZzQmrkQAU49Ecdpa-WSzQiPsPvShPQzgokjZyVkKwVLl_MfxWuw1nW9Xlr/s400/artwork_images_423991310_319933_leroy-grannis.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560955369637930498" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApCSlB3TXAgBdjzjsN71ahyphenhyphenk2PwB_YA-tVlFSqhiyJA7fUuSMwENTsubvdtQ9OgQYoT4gqFb7W7mXJa3Bl0hZT4dIyMxmliE9tcAfqjsI_nOs4COAfHlPT7EWwSS5-jNFJjyY8ylFy4Pc/s1600/16117_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApCSlB3TXAgBdjzjsN71ahyphenhyphenk2PwB_YA-tVlFSqhiyJA7fUuSMwENTsubvdtQ9OgQYoT4gqFb7W7mXJa3Bl0hZT4dIyMxmliE9tcAfqjsI_nOs4COAfHlPT7EWwSS5-jNFJjyY8ylFy4Pc/s400/16117_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560955368254138946" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:small;"><p class="style54" style=" font-style: italic; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "></span></p><p class="style54" style=" font-style: italic; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "></span></p><p class="style54" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Leroy Grannis was born in 1917 - at the beginning of World War I - and lived through the Great Depression. He made the first cut in South Bay surf culture as a competitive surfer and paddler in the '30s and '40s. He fought for his country in WWII. Were you born yet? Guided by pioneer surf photographer Doc Ball, Granny got the photo bug and started documenting his passion. He is a man who has made major contributions to the things you and I hold sacred: surfing and skating. Were you born yet? Grannis was one of the first water photographers to paddle out on the North Shore. Twenty years later, in 1975, he was shooting the Del Mar contest, the Signal Hill Speed run, the first World Invitational Skateboard Championships. Were you born yet? Granny is everything good, honest and true. He has lived his life well. He is a giant piece of the puzzle that will always influence our sporting lives. Now if I ask you about surviving the Great Depression and your answer is Paxil, you weren't born yet...</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Granny, where were you were born? </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />I was born in Hermosa Beach, August 12th, 1917.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">What were your first memories of beach life?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />I was born about a block from the ocean, so the ocean was always a big part of my life. My father was a building contractor and I remember when I was 5 or 6 years old, he'd get up early in the summertime and go swim, and I'd tag along with him. I started out bodysurfing and then moved on to belly boards.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">What was the first time you got pushed by a wave?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />I can't remember specifically, but I was 6 or 7 when I started bodysurfing. Then we went to Florida in 1924. I was out in Daytona Beach and I saw someone riding on a belly board. After they left, they ditched it under the pier, so I ran down there and grabbed it and tried it.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Right on.</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />When I got back to California, later that year, I started building my own board. With my dad being a building contractor, I had any kind of wood I wanted, so I made my own belly board. A carpenter, working with my dad, showed me how to make cuts across the board and make the nose come up. That looked real fancy to me.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Did you seal it with anything?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />No, I just painted it white.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Did you put your name on it?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />No. Not on the belly board. Then in '31, my mother and father were divorced and I went to live with my dad down close to the ocean and I run into a bunch of surfers. They all hung out at a place called Ma Brown's. She was my next-door neighbor in Hermosa, and her son Norman was a great surfer. Through Norman, I met Doc Ball, who hung out at the Curries Hot Dog stand. That was in 1931. Doc and I were close friends up until he died a year or so ago.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Was he taking pictures before you?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />Doc saw an article that had some pictures Tom Blake did about Waikiki. Being a very inventive type, Doc decided he'd try it for himself. He started shooting with these large format cameras - 3 1/4 and 4 1/4. He built a water box because he found out Blake had made a water box using that same type of equipment. I have a bunch of Doc's negatives that he shot from the water using his water box.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">How did he build it?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />He stripped the outside of the Graflex, left the guts of it and built a wooden frame around it. On the front end, he had this trap door type thing that he'd open up when he was shooting. He could close it up to make it waterproof. Sometimes, when he was shooting and the wave would break outside of him, he'd just throw the whole box over the wave and then pick it up after the wave went by. He got some great stuff with that set up.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Did you ever build a water housing yourself?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />I didn't build a water housing, per se. I built a wooden box that was about 15 inches long and 8 inches square with suction cups in each corner. I'd take a big gun out at Sunset and put this box on the front of it with the suction cups and paddle out. I could shoot with the camera bare, in the water. If a wave did come, I could close the box up and it was waterproof. That way I could change film out in the water and I didn't have to come in with the water box like the other guys did.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Did you ever get smacked out there?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />Of course. I was sitting out there in the channel with Don James and MacGillivray and Derodney. We were out there in the channel and, all of a sudden, I looked straight out and here comes a clean up, which is very unusual in the channel. I shot the box up and got over the thing all right. I looked back and McGillery had lost a brand new Bolex. It was the first time he ever had it out in the water. He never did find it. Then Derodney was the last one in. Every time I saw him after that, he'd say, 'Remember that time we were out in the channel and we all got wiped out?'</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Classic. What was your first board?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />I built my first surfboard in 1931, after I met Norm Brown. He loaned me his paddleboard, but it was too big for me to handle, so I had my dad buy me a slab of pine that was 2-foot wide, 2 inches thick and about 8 feet long. I shaped what I thought was a surfboard, put varnish on it, took it out and tried to catch waves, but it was awfully difficult. That board was heavy as a rock.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Did you put a fin on it?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />No, I didn't know about fins then. It was difficult to catch a wave on that thing. When I did catch a wave, most of the time, I'd pearl it. I just quit riding it, or trying to ride it, and went back to borrowing boards from Norm Brown and the guys in that group. That went on for a couple of years. In fact, I never did own a board of my own until I graduated from high school in 1935. Then I got a job. For about $6, you could buy enough lumber to build a paddleboard, so I did. I did put a fin on that one. I had some real bad luck with finless paddleboards out at the Cove. I straddled the board a couple of times, and that's very painful.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">When did you have your first hollow board?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />That was at Palos Verdes. I built my own. I borrowed boards all through high school, because I never had a cent during the Depression.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">What was the Depression like?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />Fortunately, almost everyone was in the same boat. We just didn't have anything. I'd go for months without a penny in my pocket. Then I got a job sawing wood for my dad at 30 cents an hour in the spring of '35 and I was rich. It was a good learning experience. We had nothing and we learned to get along with nothing.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Did you have a car?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />No, there were probably only 20 kids in my high school that had cars. They all lived in Palos Verdes and were the children of rich parents.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Palos Verdes was affluent back then?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />Yeah, they had a golf course. A number of rich people lived up there.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">If you have a golf course, you're rich?</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />Well, they were. I don't know if that was an influencing factor or not.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">What's your list of influential surfers from each generation? </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />In the '30s, I was really impressed with Preston Peterson, every time I saw him. He not only invented different shaped boards, but he was a tremendous surfer and a great paddler. He was the only paddler I raced against that I could never beat. I had him beat at Seal Beach once, but I couldn't catch a wave in on the end of it and he beat me on the run up to the beach. Pete was just an outstanding waterman. He had a boat salvage business and he knew all about the Channel Islands. He took Hop [Swarts] and me, and our crew of boyscout surfers, out to the Channel Islands on a weekend trip and showed us where to surf. The thing that stands out in my mind is, at that time at low tide, all the rocks were covered with abalone.</span></p><p align="left" class="style10" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Oh, yeah, and they were free.</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br />Not anymore.</span></p></span><br /><p></p><p></p>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-61020161454278278182011-01-11T15:35:00.002+00:002011-04-23T11:50:40.035+01:00NOTHING BUT PURE SOOTHING LINES<object width="650" height="365"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7619718&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=e0ff7a&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7619718&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=e0ff7a&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="650" height="365"></embed></object>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-63976786019812772752011-01-11T15:17:00.000+00:002011-01-11T15:18:01.824+00:00SUR<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JHu7SyzJ4-Y?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JHu7SyzJ4-Y?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-89102368695116434602011-01-10T10:15:00.000+00:002011-01-10T10:16:02.871+00:00SOUTHBOUND<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5T4rz7ZdsvH5Qf0YIC9OyL2cb2e_fXej01NFct4WfBhWbihV4D0025LvugMEglkzRg0Tc6e_5XQEr2tiLklMa1hwYn0tvjtLBD14FfFZca6B9bNhjIDtjMpiFWwuiP3xNLXJF6Vx9EaDZ/s1600/Picture+3.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5T4rz7ZdsvH5Qf0YIC9OyL2cb2e_fXej01NFct4WfBhWbihV4D0025LvugMEglkzRg0Tc6e_5XQEr2tiLklMa1hwYn0tvjtLBD14FfFZca6B9bNhjIDtjMpiFWwuiP3xNLXJF6Vx9EaDZ/s400/Picture+3.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560498917454684898" /></a>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-24438556304966009922011-01-09T03:23:00.001+00:002011-01-09T03:35:53.136+00:00WINTER BECOMES US<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwIDqk6K8oRpxKOHtdtZ-Og-3yQff0kLSjIKqQ2Ax6BOKf1H3_BTiWWbleJ6p1XF1bSdQwUW_cUaxZS1TykZXzwTXCaw1uUyjsjl32iqtZjCzKU6SzhGLfwVo1BX2JCM4hto4weoMmPF0/s1600/DSC03112.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwIDqk6K8oRpxKOHtdtZ-Og-3yQff0kLSjIKqQ2Ax6BOKf1H3_BTiWWbleJ6p1XF1bSdQwUW_cUaxZS1TykZXzwTXCaw1uUyjsjl32iqtZjCzKU6SzhGLfwVo1BX2JCM4hto4weoMmPF0/s400/DSC03112.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560024224662453938" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5X-nUbW8Lsk_T4cznlf7tilmXVUb2KfrBFhyphenhyphen-VhbFcvT7ipIj09L7kOtnWtC04b_kkR6M16VGRTPS4cj9-zmmvzIrzmwtnLRBgYTpd60oCdwWK5h0uiYNykIlUEAH2URnUHjHQoKgaKR/s1600/DSC03116.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5X-nUbW8Lsk_T4cznlf7tilmXVUb2KfrBFhyphenhyphen-VhbFcvT7ipIj09L7kOtnWtC04b_kkR6M16VGRTPS4cj9-zmmvzIrzmwtnLRBgYTpd60oCdwWK5h0uiYNykIlUEAH2URnUHjHQoKgaKR/s400/DSC03116.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560024220362972882" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZq7bwPDdB35EACYgXajqk4PmufdwjXZNGqArpd39AnRg2rs5vej5d5n5nwPqJcQPsU77FZ4Fpm3lhFyN7Gs3snAvwCFzjrbqdN_xNLFOx08u4upz0uk_NZNk3HQ0Fj1vJMguzw3CGXKe/s1600/DSC03107.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZq7bwPDdB35EACYgXajqk4PmufdwjXZNGqArpd39AnRg2rs5vej5d5n5nwPqJcQPsU77FZ4Fpm3lhFyN7Gs3snAvwCFzjrbqdN_xNLFOx08u4upz0uk_NZNk3HQ0Fj1vJMguzw3CGXKe/s400/DSC03107.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560024210666060402" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzenyiJHR_z6-myUEAU7KCxcYnmNA3WF0Fj5E-oHUqJf0Idy3d0Jhl1oM-imxXNC1r0FS2aAW1cBDK7qVGlK_JQSXFuGxWMgx3Y6ILZTVFlythTs0apBhgPBCMT0kc-hWl6au_-h0-c9ER/s1600/DSC03063.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzenyiJHR_z6-myUEAU7KCxcYnmNA3WF0Fj5E-oHUqJf0Idy3d0Jhl1oM-imxXNC1r0FS2aAW1cBDK7qVGlK_JQSXFuGxWMgx3Y6ILZTVFlythTs0apBhgPBCMT0kc-hWl6au_-h0-c9ER/s400/DSC03063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560024203743154178" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">Por isto tenho saudades do Inverno............</div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-1104814185641810732011-01-09T03:20:00.002+00:002011-01-09T05:49:26.418+00:00Poesia<div class="video"><object width="650" height="365"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7531599&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=3d9c06&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7531599&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=3d9c06&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="650" height="365"></embed></object></div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-30588637189174449322011-01-09T03:17:00.005+00:002011-01-09T04:01:58.016+00:00Wisdom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHuUrL6qMxt8KRFDTXP9nzgF972dYLiJs2NUGQ2NOjVzVxfZKi1bax9oVg7Ob9dM6mKjA0zeq6MkCin33VirQ-zTAiOp-VvmTNgAEDl1OubbkyWbPLzxzgsp3GhQvl6AUc19ifapdS4g3/s1600/images.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 196px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHuUrL6qMxt8KRFDTXP9nzgF972dYLiJs2NUGQ2NOjVzVxfZKi1bax9oVg7Ob9dM6mKjA0zeq6MkCin33VirQ-zTAiOp-VvmTNgAEDl1OubbkyWbPLzxzgsp3GhQvl6AUc19ifapdS4g3/s400/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560027718973719106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GoDWXey6cPmlSsLKGHhvgm3qHPi1NzvjCYhPtVDtGlUjz3bostyYqgkXgx4EHANjGvssEbeR0Nl_PJjqNOZDUnPvGa0z4hDDyZEMNWWE8wbgAXgNhNbfjkAvfQIxerCxFbj1wmkO5F5V/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GoDWXey6cPmlSsLKGHhvgm3qHPi1NzvjCYhPtVDtGlUjz3bostyYqgkXgx4EHANjGvssEbeR0Nl_PJjqNOZDUnPvGa0z4hDDyZEMNWWE8wbgAXgNhNbfjkAvfQIxerCxFbj1wmkO5F5V/s400/DownloadedFile.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560027714563590162" /></a>"We are smaller than the sea and bigger than ourselves when we ride waves."<div><br /><div>"Health is more than the mere absence of disease. Health is the presence of a superior state of well being - a vigor, a vitality that has to be worked for, day after day. "</div><div><br /></div><div>" One thing all surfers have in common is, if they're in love with surfing, then they're in love with the sea, then they're in love with god. That's what makes surfing so magical. "</div><div><br /><div>DORIAN PASKOWITZ ( 91 years old )</div></div></div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-20644652620913527082011-01-09T03:13:00.001+00:002011-01-09T03:15:49.780+00:00Belissimo.<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/m0NJyVCQpIs?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/m0NJyVCQpIs?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-53798435288826811562011-01-09T02:52:00.001+00:002011-01-09T03:41:46.549+00:00A PRANCHA de pedro cezar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFx1q13MQsMp0S36p2cNFdcFVAxfSDZljPIgJX6Fz2EPcPF-I3Im_NVDvMRWWSd_qmZhjfyZ31XwH7fSc2DJfyWrzZt93AvosNMBYwITbpzGOuyDtjsCgpPYOchugiVi_8nsZ6yo0Zzmjz/s1600/IMG_0048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 343px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFx1q13MQsMp0S36p2cNFdcFVAxfSDZljPIgJX6Fz2EPcPF-I3Im_NVDvMRWWSd_qmZhjfyZ31XwH7fSc2DJfyWrzZt93AvosNMBYwITbpzGOuyDtjsCgpPYOchugiVi_8nsZ6yo0Zzmjz/s400/IMG_0048.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560013716797843314" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:Courier, monospace;font-size:12px;"><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">A PRANCHA</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:Courier, monospace;font-size:12px;"><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">A prancha tava bastante usada</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;">,<br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">o dono colocou na galeria River.</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">Foi vendida com todas suas memórias</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">15 tubos,</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">4 viagens à guarda do Embaú</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">3 beijos que saíram mais caro que o combinado</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">4.372 ondas sem maior importância</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">1 aéreo na junção</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">1 carona que quase virou família</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">3 rasgadas que renderam conversa na areia</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">1250 vacas</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">8 pontos na panturrilha</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">2 toneladas de pôr do sol</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">37 mil kilômetros de horizonte…</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">o turista incauto pagou 390 reais</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">e em 20 minutos de surfe partiu-lhe ao meio.</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">Os dois pedaços ficaram na beira da praia</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">até que um moleque de passagem</span><span style=" ;font-size:15px;"><br /></span><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">catasse os restos e inventasse um brinquedo que mudaria sua vida para sempre.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:Courier, monospace;font-size:12px;"><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:Courier, monospace;font-size:12px;"><span style=" ;font-family:'courier new';font-size:15px;">Pedro Cezar.</span></span></div>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2163592563782295448.post-5924031300130566332010-12-17T06:42:00.001+00:002010-12-17T06:45:27.127+00:00perfect ice cold surfing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-kQRjuuNyjs793NVzoWh850uUiIYYbTIYHmHQDy1ytaXoZPORbqdg88DTORpYCLUanYaLCWkWFL4lsZkBYnkgWnXCckJUkhmR3KFXmACjmDTxjHqR2dVeqbhAYh_eBM6suUjd6A2UTdX/s1600/69792_1684484826292_1062760986_1877403_3430627_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-kQRjuuNyjs793NVzoWh850uUiIYYbTIYHmHQDy1ytaXoZPORbqdg88DTORpYCLUanYaLCWkWFL4lsZkBYnkgWnXCckJUkhmR3KFXmACjmDTxjHqR2dVeqbhAYh_eBM6suUjd6A2UTdX/s400/69792_1684484826292_1062760986_1877403_3430627_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551538320757819314" /></a>Mr. GShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294385347425515527noreply@blogger.com0