Baldy pipe- the flood. 2004

Sam promoting ‘le deluge’.

early bird gets the worm

Michael Serna Jr. & I , drove to Orange County the other day. We met up with Josh Borden, Salba & Billy, to ride the Combi pool. It rained in a torrent. On the way home, we never went faster than 55mph. Cars were spinning out. It was a flood & it made me think. “Apres moi, le deluge.”  This quote has been attributed to the King of France- Louis XV. It means, “After me, catastrophe.” In 1997, San Diego resident, Andrew Cunanan, went on a cross-country murder binge…a ‘three month fever’. In this short span, he took the lives of five wonderful people before taking his own, to avoid accountability. Why do I tell you this? Well, a few years before, Andrew had written in his high school yearbook, the very quote, written above.  It seems he lived up to it. In his self-centered & ego-maniacal fashion, he was a catastrophe. His life was of a destructive nature. Conversely, when this quote is applied to me, it can be translated as, “After me, the flood.” However, mine is of a constructive nature. I drain pools. Continue Reading

San Onofre. March 1978.

“Poverty- Having too much month left at the end of the money.” I found myself counting change tonight. I assure you, that I hold no shame in admitting to this or my own culpability, if I have a part in something. This however…was weather induced! The rain fell everyday this week & I cannot work in the rain. So, I found myself counting change. I have a total worth of $27.26. I have gas in the car, rice & beans and a few cans of tuna. I’m not really complaining though. Continue Reading

Duane Peters- no stranger to damage & pain.

Winter 2002. Revolving lights of red & blue pierced the fog of my overdose; shining through the haze of Percocet & vodka. The shimmering lights of the police & paramedics were lighting up my narrowly-escaped demise. I heard the beep, beep, beep, of the EKG machine & the hiss of oxygen, as muffled voices came to me like a distant dream.

I tried to focus my eyes & saw the rainy street; its greasy asphalt reflecting all the attention back onto me. I saw concern, disgust & frenzy on the faces of those nearest. I had become truly lost. I hated waking up … and hated them, hating me. “Ugh! Not again”, I moaned to myself. I was living in a broken dream. I hadn’t become a tenth of what was expected. You see, I know about the ‘element’ that is everything.

I’ve known its intimacy for so long, I hardly know anything else. I loved it, as it pissed its -fake -comfort down my spinal cord. I -forever- needed its soothing cloak of security, it blanketed me with. It left me dying on oily asphalt & in pathogenic basements…my life, a cracked mirror. It boiled my blood –thrumming & blurry– while its nails punctured my skin. It filled me with throbbing hunger. There is little on this earth that compares to the hell of opiate withdrawal.

It called to me daily. It whispered lies & showed me a thousand magic lanterns. It was Himalayan in its heights.  Once awakened from a peaceful stupor, I noticed my guts  in a knotted mass. I felt shattered glass under my skin;  sweat-soaked desperation. I lay writhing, hair matted, skin crawling, hands clenched in horrible  longing. It made my blood shriek & hammer, insatiably. I loved & hated its purring chemical voice. I was a favorite slave.

Thankfully, those days are long past. I no longer feel the need to numb myself to my existence. If you feel the urge to escape, remember that it can become a crutch. I know. It becomes everything to you. Then, your blood wakes you up; darkly calling . You too, can become ‘truly lost.’  There will be no comfort in skating, no comfort in love or family, no sexual urge, no comfort in God. There will only be the  sordid existence of the pipe, the bottle or the needle. I am neither preaching nor ‘grandstanding’. I have lived in an ugly place…but no longer. I am sharing-only-my experience. If it helps to be self-disclosing & brutally truthful….possibly it can help one other person. I can only hope. Put the crutch away, get help…and go skate. Thank you MRZ for the image. -Ozzie

Scott- moments before changing his anatomy.

Sam (bummed), Lance, Ray, Grosso & Scott

Trying to fix some of whats wrong with Scott.

Scott being punished.

“Tell me- Scott! Who’s the man now!?”

The other weekend, my pool pals Sam Haines & Scott Ward, drove with me over to Lance Mountains pool for a session with Lance, Ray Zimmerman, Jeff Grosso, Big Jer & others. It was a fine, sunny Sunday morning. We got up, stretched by the empty beauty of ‘Ridiculous’, drank coffee & prepared. At 11am, we were enroute. I kept up a running dialogue of the pools finer qualities & what was to be expected.

We arrived, chatted with Lance & swept out the pool. We were the first to arrive & skate. Scott, Sam & I warmed up a bit & Ray Zimmerman of Concrete Disciples arrived. He was going to ride with us & told me that he wanted to shoot my BS air over Lances side stairs that day. GULP! I had only done it once & only after 50 tries. It was a mind-bender for me! I pushed on the gas pedal & started hucking myself out of the pool. Bail. Bail. Bail. ad nauseum. Big Jer, Liz, Grosso & others arrived & the yard filled up with skaters.

My pal Sam was starting to really work the pool & came ‘undone’, going into the shallow end. I don’t think anyone ever told Sam, that he had to keep both feet on the board when coming down on a hip transfer.  He came out of the deep, his back foot came off & he came out of the session. MCL strain to his knee. Prognosis= off work /one week. Oops! Get better bro. A friend of Jeff Grosso, dropped in  & hit the waterfall. The waterfall hit back & he came out of the session as well. Palm bruise. Ouch! Meanwhile, I continued to waste Rays JPEGS & everyones time, by  bailing the side stairs over & over.

Scott Ward wasn’t feeling it that day. He had received the ‘backyard beatdown’ all weekend & his confidence was low. The day before,  we had completed a pretty arduous kidney pool tour. We rode 4 kidney pools & Scott took the brunt of the punishment. At Lances, he was cruising fast & stylish-as usual- but wasn’t where he- normally -should’ve been. The best I can recall, he went FS over the light, slid out & his arm went up over his head. He dislocated his arm at the shoulder. Blam! He called out-rather calmly- “Dude. My shoulder is out.”

I was quickly in the pool & noticed he was absolutely correct. The bone was bulging out lower than his shoulder & the muscles around it  were tight & twitching. He was in obvious pain. I knew that he had popped his other shoulder out in the past- snowboarding. Fairly nonchalantly, Scott looked at me and simply told me, “I’m not going to the E.R. Put it in.” I tried to hold his shoulder still & pull down on his upper arm, to rotate & replace it in the socket, but it wouldn’t work. Scott gritted his teeth & said, “I know what to do. I need to get out of the pool.” We got him out of the pool & up on the shallow end deck. Scott lay flat on his stomach, with his shoulder even with coping, arm dangling limply into the pool.

At this point, everyone was looking on in ‘Shock & Awe’. With a snarl on his face- like Clint Eastwood- Scott hissed, “Go!” With a steady pull on his arm & a slight rotation…’Clunk.’ Fini. Scott stood, gave a huge sigh of relief, actually ‘high-fived’ me with his other arm, and apologized to Lance for getting hurt at his pool. Lance looked at him incredulously & laughed out loud. Grosso looked on. wreathed in cigarette smoke…”You guys are punk.” was the only thing he said.

We took our battered & mangled crew, and walked to the car. I gave Scott, Motrin & a drink of water, then we went to 7-11 to buy ice for both Sam & Scott. In the end, Scott took a beating, ‘man-style’, Sam took a concrete smack down &…I took a ride over the ladder at Lances. After seeing my bros take the beat down, I threw one over the stairs & made it, bonking my wheels on the railing (Gulp!) for good measure. Yikes! Sometimes, its not about what YOU know…its about what your friends know. Like, how to put a shoulder back into its proper anatomical position….Skate & take care of your friends. Thanks to MRZ, Lance &……adequate medical training. -Ozzie

By Ozzie Ausband

Steve Picciolo-Dogbowl

adam morgan

me- enroute to the drain…

‘All or nothing’, has to be worth something. Sometimes, its almost too hard. You go out to ride your skateboard, and your board ends up riding you…  While I work on my Chris Miller interview & prepare for some new pool adventures, here’s a few images to entertain you all. Thanks to Jim Goodrich & MRZ & Motrin & Ben Gay & Emergency Rooms everywhere. Skate- Ozzie

Ridiculous from Sweet Tietz on Vimeo.