''El hombre lo vive todo a la primera y sin preparación. Como si un actor representase su obra sin ningún tipo de ensayo. Pero ¿qué valor puede tener la vida si el primer ensayo para vivir es la vida misma? Por eso la vida parece un boceto. Pero ni siquiera un boceto es la palabra precisa, porque un boceto es siempre un borrador de algo, la preparación para un cuadro, mientras que el boceto que es nuestra vida es un boceto para nada, un borrador sin cuadro.''

2013

VALORES

Frio a cuarenta grados.
Es la misma sensación.
Es invierno.
Pero en realidad es verano.
¿En qué realidad?
En la mia hielo, en la vuestra sombras.

Bits.

Ya estaba en mi cabeza. Pero también en mi corazón. Parecía poder tocarlo, saborearlo de tan cerca... Creo que incluso lo olía. Mis cinco sentidos ya estaban puestos. Solo faltaba hacer pasar el tiempo, y dejar que el momento llegase por sí solo, mientras lo saboreaba poco a poco. Tan cerca... y a su vez, tan sumamente lejos.
Quién me lo iba a decir. Como es posible que las ilusiones se desmoronen de un segundo a otro. Y sin previo aviso. Supongo que tiene que ser así. Que nadie está ahí arriba mirando por nosotros. Que nadie nos cuida la espalda ni nos resguarda del frío. Estamos limitados a las circunstancias y a un futuro incierto, que, quién sabe a dónde nos llevará-

Desde luego a mi, hoy no me lleva a ningún sitio.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uWh-TlEQ4k&feature=endscreen

No creo que el cielo esté encima de nuestras cabezas. Ni tampoco bajo nuestros pies. Si no que, más bien creo que está tomando el camino de la izquierda… Es decir, por el que nunca nos planteamos dirigirnos porque parece tener una puerta más grande y un camino más basto. 

Cuando lo salvaje advierte, lo cerca que ando de entrar, en un mundo descomunal.

Nos dijisteis que hiciéramos el amor... y no la guerra.

Os hicimos caso,

¿Por qué entonces el amor nos hace la guerra?

Dear New Year,

Era el mejor de los tiempos, era el peor de los tiempos, la edad de la sabiduría, y también de la locura; la época de las creencias y de la incredulidad; la era de la luz y de las tinieblas; la primavera de la esperanza y el invierno de la desesperación. Todo lo poseíamos, pero no teníamos nada; caminábamos en derechura al cielo y nos extraviábamos por el camino opuesto. En una palabra, aquella época era tan parecida a la actual, que nuestras más notables autoridades insisten en que, tanto en lo que se refiere al bien como al mal, sólo es aceptable la comparación en grado superlativo.

DANE'S DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

''

i've been getting some pressure from various people and/or websites to write something, sorta like an official statement concerning my exit from the world tour. my dismount. my pirouette. 'an opportunity level with your fans.' that's what they tell me. people wanna know whats goin on. be up to date. i can understand that. i like knowing whats going on. i like being up to date.

one thing to remember is that i have a heart and i have bones and muscle and skin and eyes and teeth. i have emotions. sometimes i act according to emotions. sometimes i think and make a conscious decision. i usually do that. in fact i usually think too much. sorta neurotic. i make mistakes, and i deal with them. i have fears and i have anxiety and i have insecurities and i have vices which i often give in to. social situations enhance all of these qualities. i could probably use some discipline, and lots of things bum me out, but generally i'm happy, and i enjoy making other people happy. sometimes all it takes is a smile. sometimes it takes a lot more than that. i try to be honest. especially with myself. i know that i'm fortunate. i'm sitting here and i have a pulse and i can breath and i hear birds outside and the buzz of the freeway and the suns about to set and it's a friday. that's fortune. i also know that i'm fortunate in many other ways. three brands support me and enable me to surf every day and travel and eat and have a house to live in. in return i represent their company in a positive way. i feel like i do a decent job. but that's obviously up for debate. surfing is my passion in life. i always think about how lucky we are that there's even an ocean, and its not too hot or too turbulent and it's not made of acid that burns our skin off. and how lucky is it that the land tapers into the ocean in just the right way so that when lumps of energy approach from a thousand miles away they gently rise up and crash at just the perfect speed so that we can wave our little arms and match their speed and hang at the crest weightless for just a second before sliding down the face. free to ride it in any way you please. and there's not just one of them. there's tons of them. they keep coming. all different sizes shapes and speeds. everyday they're different. endless joy.

there are of course a number of things that get in the way of feeling this joy: crowds, twitter impostors, eggy locals, eggy surf bloggers, overzealous surf photographers, chris mauro and rip curl contests, just to name a few. that was sort of a joke, but not really, and besides, surfing isn't just about joy. it's also a sport. an industry. and we must not mix business with pleasure. by accepting endorsements i assume a certain responsibility. some think that responsibility is to compete. to put on a jersey and crush my opponent. despite a flimsy one dimensional criteria and an inconsistent playing field that causes the end result to rarely come down to performance alone. maybe that's the fun of it. i don't know. i do enjoy it. but do i believe in it? enough to dedicate the better part of my life to it? or is that irrelevant because it's my responsibility? i didn't have to answer this question because knee surgery in january answered for me. by the time i was healing i was already gone. three buttons to the wind. adventure over responsibility. career suicide! blowing my potential. wasting my talent. i heard the buzz.

in all reality i was being constructive in a different way, traveling to a variety of locations and pushing personal boundaries in an attempt to learn, grow, and improve. it's not as immediate as a contest webcast, and heaven forbid its enjoyable, but in the end it's equally important and i've been neglecting it for too long because i was in a comfy space where contest results alone were satisfying. in order to be successful in surf competition you need to refine your act into a nice little package presentable in a 30 minute period in a number of trying conditions. you need to kill the variables. trim the loose ends. stay on your board. know your equipment. wave selection. endlessly try to revisit motions that score the most points. there are obviously exceptions to this. kelly slaters full rotation slob air reverse in new york. that was not a motion revisited and it was epic. on the beach afterwards: 'so kelly slater, how was that slob air reverse!' 'oh, is that what that's called?' also john john florence and gabriel medina. maybe it's only a matter of time before they refine their act, but for now i'm really impressed with their competitive success despite such rawness. rawness is good. surfing with john john this year in japan was enlightening. it was like every wave he was exploring new territory. i wanna explore new territory! i wanna unwind! by the end of the trip i felt improved and rejuvenated and then crunch! i busted my ribs at the mercy of a fresh typhoon swell. nearly drowned. another month out of the water. gotta pay to play. especially when you're trying to keep up with john john in waves of consequence.

and so here i am. 26. officially off tour. wasted talent. blown potential. refusing responsibility. 'all he wants to do is sit at home and play with crayons and ride fucked up boards.' but wait! but wait! that's not true! don't listen to chris mauro. he's a dinosaur. doesn't get it. this may be the end as a wct contender, but its also a new beginning. i feel like a baseball. the skins been carefully pried off and there's a thread and i'm gonna pull it and i'm gonna end up a pile of string on the floor. but then maybe i'll be knit into something more useful, like a sweater. or perhaps something beautiful, like a hand embroidered masterpiece of a deer and two fawn drinking cold clear water out of a creek. but you never know. i hope to achieve some sort of balance. yeah, i do like riding fucked up boards, but i also like doing airs and taking some aggression out on a cutback. and competings rad if you can stay inspired, but rankings and trophy's mean very little to me. i wanna learn, i wanna make things, things of purpose, be productive. travel. new experiences. new sensations. and most importantly explore the outer limits of performance surfing. i'll still compete. but its not going to consume me.

finding this balance will be a challenge. but its just a step in an endless set of steps. a staircase. it's sort of a big step. too big to just hop up. i gotta climb. like, with a rope and safety gear and shit. and i might get there and be bummed out and like my old step better but that's just the mystery of life and i'm happy to experience it. and i'm endlessly in debt to the ones who make it possible. firstly surf fans who have resonated with my surfing for one reason or another, because at the bottom of everything, you're the only reason i'm able to have the sponsorship that allows me to travel and eat and pay the bills and continue surfing. secondly my sponsors: channel islands believed in me from the ripe age of 13 and continue to craft boards that allow me perform at my highest potential and also craft boards that have nothing to do with performance at all, but make you realize how much joy you can get out of a simple high line. i thank quiksilver for their unwavering support, re-signing me during a year of uncertainty and working with me on honest marketing and products. i also thank vans for picking me up. every person on the team is one of my favorite surfers and/or people and i'm honored to be apart of it. there are, of course, hundreds of people worth thanking here, but this is who comes to mind tonight: my girlfriend courtney, for giving me inspiration, giving me perspective, giving me love and giving me treats. blair, for keeping my otherwise maelstrom of a life in order. my parents, for their conflicting views. i don't think i would have done very well in an ordinary functioning family household. my father particularly for dedicating countless weekends driving me up and down the coast to compete. that was a huge sacrifice. also my mom for preaching creativity, fearlessness, and keeping everything bullshit free. and my brother brek for administering many humbling experiences from a very early age. my grandparents, for being probably my biggest fans on earth. particularly grandma bonnie and papa chuck, who come to every surf contest on the west coast. they show up at 7 am to get good parking, even if i surf at 3. and also grandpa bob for giving me his super 8 cameras when i was 18 and instilling a lifelong hobby.

-dane
Posted on Dec 20, 2011 08:54:05 AM

''

(...)Like i did(...)

Qué ingenuidad materialista,

más simple, más monótona.

Cómo duele esa simplicidad, esa monotonía.

Qué triste es el fin.

Inevitable pensar que me he equivocado, que ha sido todo en vano.

(Aviones de papel, y sus suaves movimientos para finalmente caer en picado)

Runaway

Me estaba sintiendo medio vacia.

Y solo se me ocurría correr.

Pero nigún músculo se movía.

QUE FACIL ES PRETENDER, y creer que es cierto.

Que dificil cuando lo sabes.

Que nada es autentico.

it's so easy to pretend.

(HOLD ON TIGHT)

El cuerpo no sabe llorar, lo que llora es el alma.

Miles de maneras de ver llover,
escuchar gotas caer, y una razón para mojarse.
Entre quedarse, volver y nunca irse,

la puñalada de tener que decidirse.

El equilibrio es algo psicologico.

(Y mentalizarse de que todo tiene un final también.)
_______

"Podría estar encerrado en una cáscara de nuez y
sentirme rey de un espacio infinito"
-Hamlet. Willian Shakespeare

Sonidos

I’ve been dying to say this to you
And I don't know what else to do
I've seen your fucking attitude
Well I've been doing someone that you know
It's not a secret to anymore
'Cause I've seen you blowing around my fame
With empty words our worlds collide
It was my ego telling me why
I never thought I'd say this to you
I lied above you, regrets are useless
Was it my ego saying why
I've been dying to say this to you
And I don't know what else to do
I've seen your fucking attitude
Yeah
Well I've been doing someone that you know
It's not a secret to anymore
(...)

Agosto.

(...)

Millones de cabezas pensantes trabajando segundo a segundo.

Y son contables con los dedos de las manos (y quizás con unos pocos de los pies) las ideas maravillosas del ser humano.

Lo que resta para respirar(te)

El tiempo corre en mi contra y yo solo hago trazos infinitos en el propio infinito.

El tiempo se aproxima, me miente, me acaricia.
El tiempo me va venciendo poco a poco como mariposas en la nieve.

Y yo, solo pedía la capacidad de plegarlo por un momento y guardarlo en el bolsillo de tus vaqueros.
(...)

Y así creerme que el mundo es tan bello y tan intenso como el simple y sencillo hecho de subir lijeramente las comisuras de los labios y suavemente dejar los destellos de luz aparecer en los ojos.

Plan Z....

S_ _ _w_ _ _ _

I am desperately trying to find something.
My search in the black foam and the fog of my psyche.
I see no other way to that place/emotion/world, oh I don’t know.
I saw it in a dream recently. I knew instantly I would be there again.
I hope I am there again.
I need to find that place, to right the wrongs, it is the punishment that I need, perhaps?
I can feel a reality slipping away from me, with this drive replacing it, this quest.
Where my problems are worked out and my worries are confirmed and made corporeal, real worries walking and seeing, they are deformed and contorted ideas in the flesh (and in the fog), where in there/here even your taunts will leave me smiling.
I think I will get there, perhaps I will see some of you there...

library cat

1

Ustedes verán. Este tejado es ¡tan grande! En toda la ciudad es posible que no haya un tejado tan grande y tan cómodo. Soleado. No hay apenas casas alrededor. A dos saltos de la calle.
¡Bien abastecido!
Me explico. Bajo el tejado hay dos almacenes. En ellos se amontonan los sacos de grano y patatas, las barricas de vino, las cajas de conservas, las hileras de embutidos. Todos los días hay allí unos cuantos tazones de leche.
¿Que por qué?
¡Los ratones! Dos docenas de gatos sobre el tejado tomando, el sol de día entre las tejas, o cobijados bajo los aleros de las luceras cuando llueve, bajamos silenciosamente por la noche. Por la noche vamos de caza. Y todas las noches, todas, hay un cadáver de un pequeño ladrón que se ha acercado al grano.
Los ratones huyen asustados de nosotros. Pero a la vez son incapaces de resistir el aroma de la comida. Comida en cantidades inmensas.
Entonces, vienen.
Y entonces... ¡los cazamos!
Los ratones. Pienso muchas veces en su mundo. Oscuro, subterráneo, de pequeños túneles, entradas y salidas. Viendo cómo aparecen una y otra vez, me da la impresión que su laberinto de pasajes es casi infinito. Llega bajo tierra mucho más allá de cualquier lugar hasta donde pueda ir un gato empleando toda su vida.
Hay veces que tengo gana entonces de sujetar por el cuello a uno de esos animales de hocico delgada y ojos inquietos y exprimirle todo lo que sabe.
— ¡Eh, tú, explícame de dónde has venido! Pon aquí tu pequeña patita y dibuja un mapa. Descríbeme la forma de los túneles, los cruces, los lugares de reposo.
Pero es sólo un pequeño pensamiento filosófico. Sé perfectamente cómo es el mundo de un ratón.
En realidad, ¿es tan diferente del de un gato?
Ciertamente el conocimiento es la prueba de fuego de un cazador.
Es un asunto opinable. Probablemente lo sea. Pero no hay comunicación posible entre ellos y nosotros. Vivimos en mundos diversos.
¡Oh, qué tontería! Por supuesto vivimos en el mismo mundo. Y sin embargo posiblemente usted, amado lector, habría aceptado con agrado esa frase pretenciosa, ese absurdo de los mundos diversos. No, no, no. No hay más que un mundo. Principio elemental del sentido común. ¿O es que lo ha perdido usted? ¡Recóbrelo, amigo, si desea continuar leyendo.
Es la prueba de fuego de un cazador. El conocimiento. Y su principal virtud: ¡El sentido común! Dejemos eso claro desde el principio.

(...)

Do not have any doubts. shoot me. But...destroy your Tell-Tale Heart

Destruyendo corazones.

Oceanos de horas perdidas. Pero, ¿Y qué? Ya está todo perdido. Me muevo alrededor de circulos imprecisos y no sé a dónde me llevarán. Ya forman parte de mí, pero no me hacen daño. Ya no grito.

'Tira y afloja', 'tira y afloja'. 'El cielo se abre bajo tus pies'.

Pero yo no lo veo. ¿Dondé está? Los cambios me están descolocando demasiado y a veces vienen retales a mi cabeza de las sonrisas que estaban conmigo horas antes. ¿Acaso eran producto de mi imaginación tramposa? Parecían tan reales... casi puedo tocarlas... Casi puedo respirarlas y olerlas. Estaban ahí, estaban ahí. ¿Acaso eran de verdad? Ahora parecen haber desaparecido. Nunca han estado ahí. Nunca han estado ahí. Es como cuando parece que somos libres. Como juega la mente con nosotros. Que daño nos hace. ¿Es ella, o sois voostros? ¿Es ella o sois vosotros?

Vamos a volvernos locos. Y que el tiempo pase sin pasar. Que se funda. Que no cuente conmigo. Inexistencia en cualquier parte. ¿Yo? yo, no soy yo...

madman...

who, like all of us, believed that he is sane.

'No moví ni un músculo. Podía sentir la tierra moviendose. Sus ojos. Oir la araña trepando. El sonido sordo de la putrefacción de la madera. minuciosamente todo está ahí.'

Respuestas, respuestas, respuestas....

Apunta. Dispara. (No dudes)