I´m on a miscellaneous beach in an non descript place where everything was just created and the natives are restless. Restless, point one, because Natives A are being overrun by affluent non hablo espanole Natives B. Natives B because they are entirely under thirty and waiting, waiting, waiting in the line up, maybe living some version of the dream and maybe just purporting to. Everything America touches feels like a Disney World version. Oy.

I can no longer surf, not strong enough. I switched to a gun version of what I used to ride, it´s incredibly light but much smaller and I slightly worry I´ll never be able to do it, but at least it duck dives. The waves have less pump.

I miss Africa on the daily. The temperate climate, the old school historic surf community, the food, my friends. In a way it´s good because if everywhere was the same I´d have no reason to go back, but in a way it´s horrible because it makes me want to go back as quickly as I can.