We win again.

We win again. Photo from our digs. Internet is sporadic at best down here, so we've burst posted our last several entries.  Enjoy!

Radio shotgun!

This is a late night shot of a little impromptu jam we had. After steadily plying the guards with sodas and beer, Paul lured them in with his guitar and a song. A couple hours and much rum later, we took this photo. The fellow with the tactical shotgun has an amazingly sweet and pure falsetto that belies the heavy weaponry he carries. He had to be coaxed into singing, but eventually he launched a fusillade of cheesy latin love songs. Henry has an astonishing dexterity on the six string; nimble latin progressions akin to a Nico Eric Clapton punctuated by soulful strumming and backing vocals. Surprising, indeed, for one armed with an instrument as blunt and crude as a .45 revolver. Yeah, everyone packs heat here. Christ, even the gringos on the beach wear gunbelts with speed-loaders; Goddamn Wild West lives STRONG! Thankfully, the boys think we're friggin crazy, and they are on our side.  Our little band was completed by a coke bottle filled with rice  and a water bottle drum. Paul also produced a harmonica tuned to G, which was enjoyed by all present, but soundly despised by sleeping neighbors.

Today was a good day. We got our collective asses handed to us on the big, steep, hollow waves of southern Nicaragua. The surfing is difficult; no fucking joke. I can't ride a tube, let alone an overhead right to deadly closeout on a shallow shore break. We were all a bit scared and tentative today; a couple of rinse cycles will do that to a brother. When trying to surf in conditions beyond your ability, there is a brief moment - a pause, if you will - when you know you are about to choke on a mouthful of shit sandwich, yet a peaceful feeling envelops you. You stroke for the gathering horizon and feel the swell lift your board. The momentum is with you! Somebody yells "Stand up like a man you fucking puuussssyyyyy!" You steel yourself to pop up, and in the blink of an eye 6 feet of empty space opens beneath you and you're pulled ass over tea kettle into the maw. Game fucking over, good luck finding your teeth. Tomorrow we either find a wave that crumbles a bit and doesn't rain tons of pain from on high, or we snorkel for something delicious to eat and nurse our bruises with a generous ration of rum. Which brings me to chicken nuggets. So as we enjoyed this evening's half bottle, a Nico strolls up with a plastic bag he waves under our noses. Turns out this fellow has a sack of freshly hatched baby sea turtles, each about the size of a chicken nugget. I figure we're about to barter for dinner. As cute as the little buggers are, I know they're delicious with BBQ sauce. Alas, this Dudley Do-Right collects eggs on the beach at night as the mama turtles lay them. He gathers them up to protect them from poachers, dogs, birds, gringos, and whatnot. When the eggs hatch, he returns the turtles to the beach so they can make their way in the big, bad world. Whatever. Sounds like a scam for the white people. Anyway, baby turtles are pretty cute......and surely delicious.

Zombies On Tour?!!!!

Witchy! There is no doubt that I love a good time and this picture of my compadre's definitely show that they do as well. Reminds me of when I first listened to Ministry's 'Thieves and Liars', blaring out of the St.F.X. radio room, volume in the red, screaming and yelling at the top of our lungs, and knowing no one could ever hear us. Possibly because no one ever listened to our radio show and of course, the building was empty. I don't really know why I reference this song. It has nothing to do with the lyrics, the sound makes me want to rage in all things that I pursue. Knowing my buds, if they've ever heard that song, would make them or not, go big then go bigger! Satan was present in those early days and he sure was welcome! Living at 6200' feet, working our collective asses off, skiing, biking, playing music with the boys, pounding beer and burning the sweet herb, is definitely a great life. Yet, living on an empty beach with sweet friends, and more friends too come, with all the amenities too make one feel comfy and free, is pretty darn sweet! I love getting thrashed by huge waves, getting sent through the wash, coming up and being no worse for the wear. Yes Sir, may I have another! Thank the heavens and hell below because we're all gonna go!