Works of Friction

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Crush City

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I feel lucky when I throw a roll into my busted Yashica. I keep it in the car so when I’m bopping about Crush City I know I can get a shot when the eyes start twitching for some keen angle-catching. Sharp-like, see? So I know what I’m getting.

Frame up. Frame down. I roll the the city streets real slow. I’m in no hurry. Looking for some busted, faded motel sign I ain’t spotted yet before. One of them throwbacks to the glory days. Before the money got too big and everything got so clean. Real Dry. All the class just up and left. Where? I aint tellin. So, Eventually the cars piling up behind me’ll start bleeping their little bleepin’ hearts out. I ash my cigarette in my rear view mirror, flip em the V and slow down some more.

Then I laugh a hearty ‘fuck you lame fuckers’ kinda laugh that makes em loose their fucking minds. Veins swelling on their foreheads looking like they got centipedes crawling around up under their coupons. Fists gripping the steering wheel like they’re tryin’ ta bend it in half. Its sport. Good sport. And all sports fair-game in Crushtown.

Thats how you got to be, A real dick. Bigtime. Thats how it is if you ever want to get nothing done noplace in this kinda special kinda nowhere, kid…


1629: Funky Adventure Times

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That lifeguard shack and the left behind it. I remembered seeing photos of it in advertisements in old surfing magazines in the 90’s. The Search. Rip Curl.

The first whitefellas to see it break were most likely a couple of Dutch mutineers who were dropped off on the back beach around the corner.

In 1629.

I doubt they surfed. Its a stunning area though and I imagine it to have been rich and plentiful in natural offerings. They had a fighting chance.

I think of all the thousands of miles of Western Australian coast you could be dropped off on with nothing but your wits, this area might’ve been one of the better places going.