Hotel, Lido Beach after the lifeguards left, Atlantic Beach, Robert Moses, numerous secret spots. The list could go on. In the late ’80s and early ’90s, surfing was somewhat of a unique activity living on the East Coast, especially on Long Island. It was way more common to skate at that juncture. As young kids, we were going for it big-time, surfing hurricanes and tropical storms before and after, things I would never dream of doing now. It was the blind aggression and power of youth taking over any sense of caution. I clearly remember a sneakup set rolled in as we were paddling out after a hurricane. I was a bit closer to shore making the trek out and saw my friend Joe take a 15-footer square on the back of the neck as he failed to ditch his board or duck dive in time. He was visibly shaken up—one of the last times he ever went out in the water. Unfortunately, due to a move to upstate New York for college and unexpected shoulder surgery in 1995, my days in the water came to an abrupt end. Music ended up consuming all of my time, and my desire to surf, while still there, faded as the sport became more popular and the breaks of Long Island became more crowded with goons and seasonal enthusiasts. The freedom of being in the water is second to none; any real surfer will tell you that. While time and location has limited my days in the water over the past 17 years, it’s always in the back of my head that one day at the end of the line maybe I’ll be able to settle down by the beach and jump in the water again. //
Stellar Om source on italian art-house cinema When I need to feel grounded, I watch Italian auteur movies from the ’60s. I go back to films by Michelangelo Antonioni, Federico Fellini, Pier Paolo Pasolini and Luchino Visconti, or those starring Marcello Mastroianni, Sophia Loren, Monica Vitti, and Claudia Cardinale. Despite so many viewings, they still leave an incredible impression. I will always be fascinated by these black-and-white melodramas. Each film is so full of cinematic inventions, both in their structure, their settings, and those oh-so-real characters and stories. They deal with the new—a new kind of cinema, a new perspective on this life and beyond. They offer an impression of a limitless future through the lens of cosmopolitan and personal conflict, where everything stands vulnerable to collapse. Happiness, love and truth are traded for melancholy, eroticism and social status. The films from this era also reflect a glorious era of women in cinema. Vitti’s characters glow with self-assured glamor, reflecting a sense of power when stuck in limbo between life and love. The characters, the writing, the extended landscape shots and detail-oriented cinematography, all have a very physical effect on me. They make me feel alive in my own skin and help me feel in control during life’s crises. Most importantly, they help us all celebrate artistic imagination.
larry gus on marc maron I am in love with [comedian] Marc Maron. Sometimes in my dreams we hang out, eating heavy BBQ and shitty ice cream. I then wake up and feel weird, as if the most perfect life was in front of me, and then it just disappeared. Jonathan [Galkin] from DFA got me into [Maron’s podcast] “WTF” almost a year ago, and since then, things got out of control. I had to keep digging in the “WTF” archives, listening to all of Maron’s intros along with his older stand-ups and interviews, trying to understand his trajectory. Maron keeps reminding me of the fact that I have to be comfortable, non-judgmental and happy with the person that lives inside of me, without trying to constantly reinvent myself. On top of that, I am really a sucker for all life stories with people that have been through a lot and they are still there, still doing their thing. I think I cried so many times while listening to “WTF” and other Maron monologues. It hits a very certain emotional core; I just feel helpless. Maybe it is just the plain fact that I am getting old, and all that seems reassuring and soothing. Nothing is ever lost. I have to stop thinking about my age and just keep working, without hating myself about all my inadequacies and failures. Until reality reveals its ugly, cruel face and shatters violently our dreams and hopes. ST—055