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7Ply Epic

Stories & thoughts of a traveling skateboarder.

Anza Stanzas

3/30/2017

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The soft crunch of sediment beneath our dusty boots. On feet, the sand clings, as if it has a chance at a life in cooler climates upon enduring the length of that hike. That weekend. The sun had almost risen to high noon, and it was time for a road side luncheon. With a camp fully packed, it was onward to the next sight.

North of the Salton Sea, we traversed south along its east coast. Stopping at a beach of decayed fish was some ish. Trudging through bones on the shoreline… Not quite what the real estate moguls had in mind. When they invested their fortunes in grand resort visions. But there we were, contemplating the changes of the land. The worst case scenario in the world of runoff, we stood there in amazement. Yet such is Southern California. One mirage to the next.

Further south to Niland and inland to Slab City, the heat remained, yet we were that much closer to the next campsite. Beers, wine, cigarettes. Buds, chili, tourists. Haystacks, clay, paint. Salvation Mountain. The Mountain was one of the most prolific examples of personal legacy I’d seen in recent years. One man with a late-forming love for Jesus wanted to spread this admiration to the world, and so, lived in a trailer deep in the desert, creating a structure that can be seen from satellite, to be enjoyed by those from anywhere and everywhere.
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a bit of Salvation
The level of details observed at the mountain rightfully warranted tourists. (Google: Salvation Mountain) The artful architecture intersects with the colors of an Easter egg. Painted trees co-habitate with caves and dunes. A colorful keeper to the gate of Slab City: an off-grid trailer park, organized into neighborhood(s) of artists, squatters, hippies escapists of society alike. Bartering for cash, building masterpieces from raw garbage and heckling the “housies” that have traveled from their air-conditioned lives in the outside world.

An odd type of character one chooses to respect. The free spirits that don’t need much. The way it should be. It seems they’ve found the key. That crunch of the sand is something to be savored that deep in the desert. The silence, minus the wind, is something to be cherished. The art that exists only for the sake of itself. Its enjoyment. There’s nothing there. But everything. And there are us tourists, touring the wastelands of self-expression. Ninety degrees with a breeze, followed by a night flight of wine.

Horrible live music, warm liquor, makeshift photo booths. It was time for Prom. The walk there, energized by tequila shots and an unexplained second wind. The sun takes it out of you, but the campfire brings it back a bit. Good company yields good spirits, and a good (phenomenal) vegetarian chili cures fatigue like super glue on an open wound.
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messaging from Slab City
The "wild west" is an understatement. There are more words to describe this commune, but I had enough time to keep it short.

The hungover exploration of the desert on the other side of the Sea, an attempt at a glimpse of the #SuperBloom, a smoothie made from dates. Hot, hot sun. Plant-fueled discovery of derelict skate spots, caterpillar-infested fields & rare shade for a picnic.

Keep driving. Keep stopping. There’s no right way. Just drink water, and put one foot in front of the other.

 - 7Ply Epic ​​
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Referrer

3/23/2017

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"I’ve heard so much about you!” How many times have we all heard that? For better or for worse, it means something. And at the very least, it starts the conversation off with an unknown familiarity that may be odd yet affirming.

A great reference is as golden as a good first impression. Knowing that someone else has been actively talking about someone or something (you or others) is a great place to start getting to know that person/thing. A best friend meets the other best friend, a mother meets the girlfriend, a distant sibling meets the dog… They all amount to different experiences, yet they all share something so special and relatable. A baseline relationship, if you will.
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Recently, I met one of my girlfriend’s closest friends, for the first time. A meeting highly anticipated was as natural as could be. As if I were hanging out with an old friend of my own from high school. It was a wonderful time, and I’m aware (although she is actually a wonderful person) that the great reference fed that opinion quite a bit. Rave reviews yield optimism.

Conversely, negative words about one from another can create more negative perception toward that person, place or thing. It’s a magnifier, and it isn’t to be underestimated. Trump is a perfect case study. Countless positive and negative references both, create a nation currently divided (even much more than it was 15 years ago). Who kind of likes Coca-Cola but would never buy it if it weren’t for the fact that people do it? *I just rose my hand (in a room alone :p).* The preemptive words that we hear every day constantly prep us for the subsequent actions that we take in later days, each day.

Just another observation, a cognizance, a remark… Whether valid or not, this is my blog. I’m just curious if next time you see the text “job reference” it manifests an entirely new meaning.

Refer along. Or not and just live.

 - 7Ply Epic ​
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Los Homicidas del Sueño

3/16/2017

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Upon reading this fascinating novel & memoir by Lillian Smith, I’ve been on a heavy divergence kick as of late. Her book “Killers of the Dream” is all about growing up in the South in the 50’s. Like, the deep deep south in the age of institutionalized racism. The mannerisms highlighted in the reading are mild, pleasant and, well, Southern. But the themes, the juicy meaning behind the smiles and “good afternoon”s is gnarly.

The people of that time were in a brainwashed trance, set for them by their leaders. The idea that blacks were not to be respected as whites were, was phony. Yet, the vast majority of white people held true to that ideal. Many, deep in their souls, knew that it was wrong. But they continued to play their role on the stage, playing along with the charade in order to maintain their status and cheap (free) help around their houses and properties. At some point or another, the civil rights movement gained enough steam to be called such, and many Southerners became conflicted, frustrated and confused. Some began to cling even more tightly to their racist traditions while others listened to their personal truths, separate from the talk around town. The schism was very real, which created a window for the clashes we see between our own American people, even to this day.

The whole premise of this book reminds us of how large the scope of the issue actually is. Racism is in no way okay or is in no way a small issue. But the greater problem is that of following the crowd for the path of least resistance. The majority of humans don’t want to rock the boat. They don’t want to cause trouble for disagreeing with their neighbor or create any reputation for themselves based on a “wild” opinion of theirs. The behavior I describe here is seen as cowardly, typed out on a “page” yet completely and utterly normal in every day life, regardless (almost) of where you are on this Earth.

The ideals that one should be married at a certain age, should be attracted to the opposite sex, should drink beer and not smoke weed or any other widely accepted reality are completely irrelevant to human happiness, impact on community or successful path in life. They are guidelines for those that listen to the one, most powerful, voice. Those that “are not to be disputed.” Those that write the laws.
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This might all seem very woo-woo, but each day the reality is branded deeper and deeper into minds of humans all over this planet. The idea that immigrants of certain majority-Muslim countries can no longer enter the US under the same terms, because they are Muslim… Is not only ludicrous without human consideration… It is astronomically unfair to those that are negatively affected by it. Yet none of this would BE an issue if it weren’t for widespread support for such an ideal.

“I’m a Republican, so I support what our leaders put on the table.” “I’m a Democrat, so I condemn anything, accurate or not, that Mr. Trump says.” It’s all the same. Two sides of the same coin, and they should have thrown out the quarter for a dime decades ago. For those that hate or love unconditionally, without any biological connection or full understanding of the circumstances, are ignorant. That may seem bold, and I accept any and all comments to the notion, but I have the feeling that save a few reactionary events, people will agree.

“Killers of the Dream” is not only a book by academic and Southern culture expert, Lillian Smith. It is an accurate title for those creating the unnecessary, and sometimes hurtful, subconscious laws of human behavior. The same ones fed by the cowardly trait of millions of people today.

Don’t follow the rules you do not understand. Under any circumstances. Learn first. React on your own terms, completely. The “killers of the dream” don’t know my dream. Make sure they won’t know yours either.

 - 7Ply Epic ​
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The Hard Drive

3/8/2017

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The last 18 years have brought me more than I could have possibly predicted. After almost 27 years of life, I’ve only had 18 as a skateboarder. But that “skateboarding” has taught me more than simply how to do maneuvers, describe obstacles and get up after falling down. Skateboarding, as an obsession, has taught me what it means to be so passionate about something and also how an obsession can be positive. Skateboarding teaches how to recover from failure, deal with any type of person and properly shotgun a beer at an early age, but I digress..

Skateboarding is only one example of any hobby, purpose or pastime that any person may have and develop a true passion for. It is truly difficult for me to go eight hours without thinking about it in one way or another. I become cranky if I don’t “go skate” in some way for more than four consecutive days. It makes me feel as though no matter what happens in life, I will have a home base with skateboarding. Even if I break my neck or go blind, I would have a family in skateboarding. I would still have that passion for the sport regardless of if I could push that fast again. It will never love you back, but it will also never fuck you over. Maybe just bite you in the ass a bit… But I digress...
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Frontside Turnin' Up High. Photo: Jim Goodrich
Those that don’t hold a true passion for anything are those that I have a hard time connecting with. If I share their passion, we have lots to talk about; and if we don’t, I have lots to learn from them. But a lack of a passion to follow and build upon seems like the disadvantage of a lifetime.

Starting your days without a drive.. A direction to faithfully follow for yourself.. That’s the hustle. The good hustle. How would life exist without such? A drift, constantly down to the minute, wondering what the next moment will bring to you? Lack of intention reaches lack of results, although luck is a relevant catalyst to progress.

There’s something to be said for serendipity, yet it’s easy to not reach goals when you don’t set any.

(That last little piece of knowledge is credited to the late great Russ Johnson.)

 - 7Ply Epic ​
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