2 Bardo Surfer TV channels!

Here's some Dirtsurfer footage on asphalt in Ojai, Californai.

Wings on a wall

Dirt Surfing Didj

No brain + No brakes = 2 crashes

Dirt Surfer Chronicles
Chapter 1. Sulfur Sunday

No brain + No brakes = 2 crashes

The East side of Sulfur Mountain Road features 7-8 miles of mostly downhill dirt road. There are several areas that require some walking – (the Dirtsurfer requires slopes whether they be grass, asphalt, dirt trails, sidewalks etc). The intervals of walking were nice and helped to relieve the little bit of a back/right calf burn that I started feeling after the first mile or so.

Four of us bombed down Sulfur on a blue Sunday. Colin stood on an old school 20. Morgan started on a 20 as well while both Justin and I rode Freestyles. Initially all went well no, mishaps. I used the brake to trim my speed whenever it got to hairy. The slope was steep enough that I used the brake to make the turns less freaky.

As the turn approached, I tried to put more pressure on the brake but my speed went unchecked. As I sped almost out of control, in squat position on the board, futilely pushing the break lever, I saw that the hair pin turn dropped into an even steeper downhill – instantly I drop on to my ass and slide across the fire road leaving a brown rooster tail of dust in my wake. While making my slide, I am able to see on my left, a young woman biking up the steep slope. Lucky to witness my spectacular incompetence, she seems to glow. I warn her of the 3 approaching dirtsurfers and she complies, walking her bike off on the side.

Without checking anything, I take off again, this time after Colin and Morgan with Justin somewhere behind me. The slope gets steeper, I am going faster, faster, faster, the terrain gets bumpy and I use my hand on the calf lever and – nothing. It does not work! DUH!! (I now realized that my very prior but slide crash had been caused by brake failure. Looking back I surmise that they must have gradually become less and less effective, kind of snuck up on me). Anyway, the second crash left no dust cloud. All it required, this time, was some fresh skin off of my right elbow. I liken it to a reef scrape that one is likely to get surfing shallow reefs in the South Pacific.

Soon enough, Justin come surfing down the hill looking a little sheepish. He calf brakes to a stop and as he walks over I watch as he pulls a small stone out of his shoulder. Turns out he has just had a wicked crash. He turns so I can see his torn up back. It is not too bad but there will be pain.

Justin: “I thought the bolt was loose in the front, I squatted down and checked with my finger but it got caught and I endoed.”

Thus, in that instant, Justin snagged the Bardo Surfer Sulfur Sunday Crash Award from my clutches. The but slide dust cloud was amazing, even had a lucky spectator but, one look at Justin’s back and there was no looking back, he’d won, wear and tear, hands down.

Burger King

Dirtsurfer Chronicles (Prologue)- Bardo goes offroad

After a long day of waiting in a giant warehouse-sized video stage for my bit in an unsponsored Puma® commercial, my turn came in front of the special slo-mo camera which can shoot 2000 frames per second - and beyond if you can get enough light. 2 P.A.s sprayed fine droplets of water on my bare chest, arms, face and glistening, baldhead. The bright lights kept me warm while the director and cinematographer ironed out the specifics before each shot, most characterized by several bright flashing lights. At one point I was doing a speeded up improvised version of the tai chi I’ve been practicing. Another shot I am on a dolly with my didj. “Didj on a dolly!” I kept saying to most likely only my delight. The time flies by. It’s nice to be the center of attention. The crew has a relaxed and laid-back approach. No one tries to dominate. There seems to be a subtle undercurrent of electricity, soundless buzz and noiseless hum, like everyone’s experience is cool. They all want to be here.

I arrive back in Ojai around 10 PM and am greeted silently by my new Dirtsurfer, just arrived via UPS and separated into two different boxes. My enthusiasm for the new toy overcomes my inclination to just fall in bed and go to sleep. Without the proper tools, I am unable to completely put it together and end up going to bed hungry – hungry for dirt that is.

The next day, I comlete the assembly using some bike tools. One screw is missing and I find a suitable substitution at Ace Hardware.

I head into the back yard and give it a go. My first attempts are like a kick in the gut – “hah!” – not physically, just mentally. I’d not expected to have too much trouble. 10 minutes later I am able to roll 10 feet or so at the max. A sore foot and slightly bruised ego helped delay any further attempts for 3 days.

Its Monday, there is a fine drizzle of rain outside in the troposphere. The grass is wet. The driveway: wet. The road: wet. My foot feels good, no pain. 3 weeks ago, I’d baled off a wave and one of the fins nailed my foot pretty good. Recuperation has taken 3 times longer than my most pessimistic prognosis. No matter. Today is the day. Foot’s fine. I wheel the Freestyle Dirtsurfer into position and give it a go. The 3 days rest must have allowed for some new data integration to take place or something because the second attempt saw me sail across the yard 40 yards or so. I’d found the little center of gravity window that this baby offers and fallen in love instantaneously. It felt so much like surfing that the joy was almost painful in its intense heat, which I quickly adapted, harnessed and am now using as an alternative energy source. I wheeled the land boarding contraption to the top of the driveway and surfed back down, easily slaloming up an embankment on the right, ducking under the branches of an orange tree and streaking across the long grass and weeds and baling off laughing and giddy with the thrill. This was it, I was hooked immediately, just add dirt or asphalt or both.

It’s Friday. I am wheeling the Dirtsurfer up the road and I see a familiar Range Rover, driven by Jason. Big eyes and a curious face sum up his response. “What is it?” He finally remembers to ask.

“It’s a Dirtsurfer. This one is the Freestyle – 16 inch wheels.”

“Oh.”

“Want to see me ride it down the hill?” I move my head in the direction of the fairly steep section of road just a head.

“Sure.”

“Will you drive me back up here?”

“Sure- I want to see this.”

“You can try if you want.”

“No. I just want to watch.”

I put the board down, right foot on the back part of the board, push off the asphalt a couple times with the left foot and slowly make my way to the approaching incline. It is like I am in the mellow part of a river just before the falls on a surfboard. If I fall, there will be no water to cushion my fall and also no water to drown me. No, there is only the unrelenting black asphalt worn grey with rain, sun and time. Over my shoulder, I see Range Rover Jason smiling with anticipation. I smile in a flash of teeth and then I make the drop and gravity quickly accelerates me to 25 mph approximately. The turn approaches and I smoothly squat down and use my hand on the calf break to slow down to a leisurely 10 mph before making the turn. Made that part a little to easy. I stand straight up and let the speed build to around 30 mph and then the final turn comes up, I use my right hand on the calf break again but leave some momentum for a fun left, backside turn. Feels so much like surfing ocean waves but there’s something fresh and new. Undiscovered. Clearly it is its own sport. Surfing the frozen waves of hills, mountains, trails and the black ribbons of asphalt.

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EFF strikes back!

Viacom investors beware, your company is being directed by humans who lack the ability to comprehend the current economic realities that have been unfolding over the last decade. There is a new economic model that we are all living under and the copyright laws as they are written, have expired. They are now obsolete. For those of you in the dark, Viacom is suing Youtube.

Guess what Viacom? You just made a "Bush Move". Now, you are being sued by EFF. Do you now how many guerilla lawyers are out there who will feast on your dinasour brain?

Bardo Surfer gives EFF a standing ovation!

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The art of forgetting

Hillary Clinton 1984 video

This video is genius.

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The antidote

The antidote to being stuck on the fear channel remains inaccessable to many. Thus we live in the age of irony when we learn that it lies within us. After so many years of being conditioned to be a child, Johnny Public American, no longer has the neurophysiology to undo the cultural conditioning - a type of chineese finger lock, except its the brain stem stuck in a boob tube. The breath is overtalked overlooked over rationalized and a living nebulous presence with hair trigger shyness. See that bird in the cage? Do you feel a trifle sad that this being is trapped, wings clipped and unable to fly. What songs will this bird sing? This bird is your breath and as you lament the bird's situation, so, unknowingly, do you lament your own. How do you capture a bird and not kill it? How does one discipline the breath without strangling it? By becoming the sky.

The pool of relaxed and not easy to manipulate humans will begin to increase its volume and natually and logarithmically assimulate more control over the direction of the species. It is a natural consequence of the rebound effect that occurs when sufficient amounts of citizens become aware of the emperor's blatant nakedness, transparencey, fraudalence, lacking any sense of refinement or intelligence. No self knowledge and unlimited power can be a dreadful combination and ultimately implodes; all the while continuing the silly self-serving lies which seem to be collecting in the collective conscious faster than carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.

Smiles tend to hang out with other smiles and sometimes smiles are contagious. As the information war intensifies, multiple sources of information will be the modus operandi of the intelligence agent. Carefully observing conflicts of interest. The studious student will look at most clumps of news as tangled knots in string that have all kinds of debris clinging to it. What is accurate? Who is the author? What is their agenda? What is their bias? What's yours?

Green award for march goes to...

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World disaster map

We've added a world disaster map link on our sidebar for your convenience.

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Iran

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Obey

'Oops'

'Oops'
Originally uploaded by surfer x.

Endless

Endless summers and endless wars endless taxes and endless chores
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby
This just may be a little scary but everything is temporary
Even if you believe contrary everything is temporary
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby
Lifetime warranty no more scarcity money back guarantee
Bulletproof insurances and infinite assurances
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby
Multi-faceted interdimensional conversationalist with a permanent inner home
In search of an outdoor oriented adventurous vixen
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby
Nothing ever lasts very long take a good look
Now say good-bye ‘cause everything is temporary
except my love for you
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby
Nuclear winter, nuclear bombs
Nuclear family, nuclear star
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby
Limousine luxury fantasy come to me
Secret island getaways frozen fast food deliveries
I got what you really want baby I got what you really want baby

ψon

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, unless, something is distorting the lens of recollection.

“Insight into this particular culture can be difficult for those of us far removed from that era and its collective disconnection which allowed Gaia~opia to prevail and dominate.”

L4nc3 smiled to himself, part of him had disconnected from the teaching, exploring the vast matrix of data on the inside of his cybershades thru one lens, while the other lens remained open to realtime.

“The politics at the time seemed more nonsensical but now we know that they were merely the logical progression of a systemic planetary communication breakdown. The foundational philosophies, institutional thought corrals, television consumer programming – all built around an easy to exploit brainstem.”

L4anc3 used sub vocal commands to navigate thru the planetary info stream and locate the seller of his latest offroad recreational device.

“The whole concept of waste/garbage - not only did it exist - it dominated on many levels which inevitably led to war, strife and vast economic gulfs among the various humans.”

L4nc3 cleared the opaqued lens and gave full attention. It always just blew his mind when he heard this aspect of twentieth century culture. Initially, he thought that there was some type of misinterpretation, the cultural abyss could easily miss something but careful examination and reams of data confirmed a system, which seemed built on self-destruction.

The heart of matter

"This hospital is definitely more cheerful than any of the other ones I've been to on my tour," Stan thought to himself. He'd been traveling around the country the last half year or so. Stan had a couple issues that he liked to work out in hospital waiting rooms. This one was the radiology waiting room. Initially, the room had been packed, standing room only. One of the administrators called folks' names out regularly from behind a glass window and soon there was only one other person in there besides Stan.

When she came into the room, Stan immeditately noticed her dirty blond hair, cute face and svelt form. After a few minutes, he started up a conversation with her and she warmed up immediately. Tiny minute sparks of light and joy seemed to shoot out from the corners of her eyes. The words jumped out of her mouth eager to be heard like a pack of dogs wanting to be walked. "Do you surf?" He queried innocently.

"No." Quick smile. "Do you?"

"Yeah." Stan pauses, thinks carefully about his next question. "What do you think about hospitals?"

Giggles. "I'm a nurse, I work here - just not now."

"I hope it's nothing serious."

Quick shrug. Nervous smile.

"How do you like being a nurse?"

"It's busy, I work 5 days a week. It's amazing all the things that nurses do. We do a lot of handy man type stuff."

"How about health? Are you into health?"

She just smiles her smile and stares intently. "Do hospitals have anything to do with health?" Stan asks with a grin. "You see, I am in to health and it kind of shocks me how little western medicine seems to actually know about how the human organs function and their roll in maintaining health and vibrance."

"What do you think of the heart? Lets get to the heart of the matter."

"It's a pump."

"Actually, its more neural tissue then muscle."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not only that but it is directly linked to the limbic system, the immune system and the cerebral cortex. In fact, there are basal ganglia in every organ of the body."

Off buttons

America is largely the victim of its own advertising prowess combined with the power of television to transport memes undetected across the critical thought boundary thru the induction of an alpha wave state of consciosness. When such a mechanism exerts the ability to control mass populations, leading humans on a limbic odyssey of horror, madness, joy, sorrow, exhilartion and fear, making viewiers impressionable for commercials, 'news breaks' - then it becomes critical policy to control content with firm hidden hands shaping the culture like a clay bowl on a pottery wheel. Most like to dismiss such conjecture with classic 'off buttons' such as: "paranoid' or 'conspiracy'. These labels shield the user from the truth, helping to protect the bubble of hard-earned Prozac calm .