Tom

        Caked in white powder, one would assume a fresh blanket of snow had just fallen in the small 12x8 garage that we are currently occupying. I sit on a sideways crate, watching as Tommy goes over–again and again–all sides of his styrofoam chunk with an instrument that must be a close cousin to the cheese grater. A resilience is needed by the surfboard shaper. The repetitive motions might be seen as tedious to some, but from my observations, the back and forth motion of the cheese grater facilitates a passive inertia that moves up Tommy’s arm, through his shoulder, into his neck, and eventually floods into the back of his eyes. With a glossy look and furrowed brow, he continues on with his task at hand. I, along with his surroundings, dissipate into non-importance as his world becomes narrowly focused on the board before him. This is the sign of not only a true shaper but of a true artist at work. Tommy is both.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hawley's Leaving Town

When we all got news that Hawley was headed back home to Reno, none of us knew what to think. The strongest link in our chainmail, in our holy divine armor, was about to come undone. We had spent countless weeks forging those chains, building what we had come to enjoy for the past couple months, weeks, years? Time has felt odd while in this settlement. One can’t be quite too sure what day it is, what year, what month, what season. It doesn’t help that the weather is perfect with a high of 75 each and every fucking day. Blending the mondays into tuesdays and the tuesdays into wednesdays and so on and so on; so that there is just one blanket of continual day and night that spans for such a time that beards crop out and babies begin primary school. So that relatives pass and that no one can be sure if the ham in the fridge has gone bad. But yea, Hawley’s leaving town. It’s sparked a certain hysteria amongst the group. We’ve all got this trepidation beginning to rear up in our bellies, for...
continue on »

Study of Alexéy Alexándrovich Karénin

          Alexander was a careful young man. He measured up all decisions in his mind before ever taking action. The world of his thoughts was more vivid than the world of forms that danced before him on his cave walls, lit up by the ever-present firelight. Each morning upon rising, Alexander would make himself a fresh pot of coffee. Everyday it was the same amount of the same blend made in the same coffeemaker and poured into the same cup alongside a small amount of the same cream. Alexander measured out 31.8 grams of coffee each day to load into his coffee making machine. That amount was–in his eyes–the perfect ratio for a cup of coffee. Of course, he would only drink a single cup and dump the rest down the sink, but he saw this as a necessary sacrifice in order to obtain the ideal ratio of coffee grounds to hot water in his cup. When ready to measure, he would place the special scale he got as a Christmas gift from his mother on the kitchen counter, do...
continue on »

stay where you are and then leave

Unrequited (adj.): not returned or reciprocated Love (n.): a profoundly tender, passionate affection, often mingled with sexual desire, for another person Many years ago, I gave a girl I loved a book for her birthday; and since I loved her, I couldn’t just give her any ordinary book. Well, the book was ordinary enough, but I felt that I must imbue it with some special quality. Since I didn’t know any spells or incantations at the time, I settled on something a bit less fantastic. I started on the first page of the book and circled a word, then I continued farther down the page and circled another. Turning the first page, my eyes skimmed the second as I searched for more words to circle. Word by word, I began piecing together a poem for this girl I loved, hidden in plain sight. I got to around the 20th page before I was content with my conglomeration of appropriated words and phrases. I gave her the book and waited for days, then weeks, then months for a text or call or facetime. I don’...
continue on »