I don’t really know what do to with this word: community (I also don’t know what to do with the word
moist, though that’s for another time). It’s not a tricky one to define—from the Latin
cum for together, and
munus for
a gift, literally translating to ‘a gift to be shared’—it’s just that the word’s spread a little thin.
We’ve heard the term Surf Community as many times as we’ve heard our other surf clichés of the moment (Kelly Slater is a ‘Freak of Nature,' as well as everything that comes out of Dave Rastavich’s mouth, such as the endlessly repeating commercial where he states, ‘I’ve been gifted the opportunity to not have a 9-5 job…’Gifted? Good Lord. He also abuses blessing, for which there is no excusing). So are we experiencingcommunity when we surf? It’s a ‘coming together’ for ‘gifts,’ but, as we know, most waves are actively and purposefully un-shared. And what if you have not only nothing in common, but different values entirely than those in the water with you? What if they're dicks, or disparage others, or applaud when Rick Perry boasts of 234 executions while he was governor of Texas? Does it negate the community experience, or is there a sub-community of surfers who have little regard for human life?
What about when we’re out of the water? If we’re not sharing waves, or coming together, are surfers still in any way a community? If not, why are we constantly being told that we are?
Sorry for so many questions on a Friday, people. My eldest started pre-school on Tuesday, and I've been vexed with thoughts of her fragility.
What if her peers look askance at her bowtie noodle lunch? What if she puts her hands into the class orange juice again? What if she's the kid with a booger sheet stashed in her desk? Today is Show and Tell, which I think should go well. Christ, I’m a mess.
What am I talking about again?
Oh yeah, ChrisTofurkeys new 7somethin Cigar Volant. The young buck’s chasing down a sandwich with the same intensity he applies to beard growing and shredding barefoot on leashless logs in Northen California beachbreak. Dude’s committed is what I’m saying.
How much more blueberry can it get?
None more blueberry.
On October 28th, 1954, the French grape-growing hamlet of Chateauneuf-du-Pape passed a law forbidding any type of cigare volant, or flying cigar, from landing in any vineyard. Article one of the decree states: the take-off, landing, and overhead flight of the aircraft known as flying saucers, or flying cigars, whatever their nationality, are prohibited in the territory of the commune.
Up here in Northern California, the legislative vibe is a bit different from le commune, so no such law exists. This is fortunate for local surf enthusiast T, who is clearly stoked to introduce his new Cigare Volant to our chilly waters.
Full board, Martian-green opaque resin work with a cigar band complete the aesthetics of the cigare theme. The bladed-out rails, single wing in the tail, and flexie fin provide the space-age engine.
The obligatory rocker/foil check.
