Crossword clown

I am addicted to doing crossword puzzles during my morning commute.  I'm also reading a new book called The Biology of Belief given to me for my birthday from my Aunt Julie.  The title and cover had me extremely skeptical about the content at first, but I'm really getting into it.  More later when I've actually gotten past the first chapter.

In yo' face, Martha Stewart! Cookie-bot strikes again!

The non-disturbing parts of this drawing are a tribute to my childhood.  As a kidlet I filled entire sketchbooks with drawings of sharks and bats as drawn above.  Thresher sharks became my favorite.  Drawing sunglasses on the sun went from being a clever pun when I was little, to a way of expressing how "cool" I wanted to be (and thought I was) despite my complete lack of touch with the current fashions in elementary school.

Heels

Surfed Good Harbor on Thanksgiving morning.
Note to self: never surf in 46 degree water without something in your stomach.

Unlearn my hand

Caricature in a bus window reflection

Fisheye

Bizarre, though it may have been, the past week was truly excellent.  After helping Ashley move into her new abode this passed weekend, I noticed a clunking sound in my front right wheel well.  To make a week-long story short, the clunking turned out to be corroded and broken spring(s) somewhere in the suspension.  Luckily, the part was under warranty, but it took about 5 days to get everything looked at, figured out, dropped off at the dealer, and finally fixed (today).  What this has meant for me, is that I've been staying at my parents' house every night this week.  How weird and yet fun!

Each day has gone basically as follows:

1) Wake up at 6:20, maybe shower, put on old clothes.

2) Get a ride from my mom at 6:40 to Newburyport station for 6:55.

3) Arrive at work around 8:45.  Work for 8 hours.

4) Return home by 6:30/7:00, surf at The Wall or Jenness until 9:30.

5) Shower, do a crossword puzzle with my mom, go to sleep.

While the crossword puzzles have been a totally rad, albeit strange tradition, I must say that I am far more stoked to have surfed 5 out of the passed 6 days.  Moreover, I was further pleased to be accompanied on most occasions by Brother Chris or Bill Mosher.  Tonight all three of us were out there just eating up the low-to-high tide push after a massive thunderstorm passed us over at The Wall.  Last night, however, it was just me and the perfect sunset.  Nothing calms the soul like glassy, waist-high surf in the beautiful everglow of sunset at Hampton.

On the topic of surf, I'm also in the market for a short board.  I had arranged to meet with someone in Cambridge to look at their 6'6" Local Motion board, but he ended up selling it before I even got a chance to look at it in person.  Nevertheless, that's what I'm looking for: About 6'6" by ~20" wide with a "fat ass" squashtail as Ed tastefully put it... what can I say, I like me some ghetto booty.  Basically, a shorty designed for the small-mid sized surf in the North East.

Lastly, I'm feeling really good about the fact that I'm still drawing on the train pretty much every day.  Yes, almost all of the drawings have been surf inspired, but what I'm really into right now is just capturing the body in motion: Where the weight is distributed, what a particular pose looks like from different perspectives, especially distorted ones like a fisheye lens would produce.  What I've always liked about drawing is that it has always helped me to understand the world around me a little better.

Zen mind

Clarity of mind comes in waves for me. I have always been this way. Left and right brain must take turns like alternating pistons in a car engine. When the balance isn't just right, it's as though a veil is pulled over my eyes. Things aren't clear as they once were. I feel uninspired, numb to the beautiful infinity unfolding all around.

This week that veil is sliding off and I'm starting to feel a rhythm to life again. Everything, it seems, is just a little bit easier: waking up in the morning, dealing with daily stressors, even simply thinking two steps ahead of any moment. It's so strange to look back and think, "when exactly was it that I was so stuck in the mud? It must have been so hard for me." But I think back and recall a week in Mexico, two in Peru, and countless triumphant weekends with my family, friends, and girl'fiend.

I expressed in my last entry that I felt drained by work days. I think that this is where I'm reconciling my groove. Today I got to work half an hour early, and left an hour and a half late. When I arrived at North Station, 30 minutes sat between me and the next ride home, and yet I felt no frustration. I spent the time drawing the people around me. On the train, I put pencil to paper again and next thing I new I was fantasizing about surfing sunset at OB.

Last night I meditated for 30 or 40 minutes, there must be irony in this considering the previous paragraph contains about 13 instances of the pronoun "I" by my count. Self absorbed as I am at this moment, last night was a welcome deviation into emptiness. The night before I spent about 2 hours working on a drawing and more time messing around with oil pastels. This is definitely a favorite form of meditation for me. The mind becomes so fixed on shape and shadow that nothing else can distract. A hand may travel to scratch an itch, or the body may reposition itself more comfortably, but the mind defers all these things to the reflexes.

It is claimed that meditation is like an exercise for the mind -- that repeated practice yields improved focus and clarity. I subscribe to this belief, though my experience with rigorous meditation is lacking. The world around can be so over-stimulating that it pollutes and numbs the senses. Sometimes I wonder if a day will come when I will be unaffected by the sound of a car accident. Whatever the case, I aim to chase down the luminescent clarity and focus that has time-and-again washed over me, maybe this time I can ride it out.