"Don't Be Prey"

A love letter to finding lost inspiration

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We’ve promised our paying Substack subscribers a new post four times a week. The intention being to inform and inspire your surf life. Maybe even your regular life too. Through a lens of irreverence, honesty and probably a bit (too much) of that good-song-in-your-headphones enthusiasm. We want to share the offbeat and give you something to noodle on, make your life a little more enriched. We won’t be afraid to dip into literature, fashion, lifestyle, products, surfing (of course) and more. So far so good.  

The schedule and cadence of these posts is a work in progress, but we’ve said Wednesday would be the day of inspiration. So here we are, together, gloomy Wednesday and there’s a problem. Your author isn’t feeling it. Making you a playlist, sharing a book or film rec or any other of the things that often work to get us jazzed feels, well, banal. Any old form of “media” won’t cut it today.   

It’s not the surf's fault either. I just surfed a sweeping south swell under May gray skies with prevailing south wind. Practically my dream conditions (ha. ha). But I’m feeling like an imposter trying to tell you how to get inspired when I can’t even drum up the optimism myself. I’m playing all the right songs at the right volume. I’m reading. I’m sketching. I’m driving around. I’m calling people. I’ve tried drinking more coffee. Sparkling water. Chocolate. Booking a trip. Everything but the local bar (which is probably next). 

I started thinking about the times in my life when I felt most inspired — trying to summon the little gremlins that make the keys go tap tap tap. Nearly every single memory that came to mind took me north. Like way north. The murkier versions of those inspired memories involve me attempting to drink my way into being considered part of the Beat Generation in San Francisco. I think we’ll leave those alone for now (slippery slope). The next ones all involve an apple orchard, a girl and the darkest water I’ve ever surfed in.