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READER POLL 2017
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Wanna win a new surfboard? We have a custom Chilli ‘Black Vulture’ to gift (plus all the trim you’d expect from a premium dealer). To be in the running, just answer a few questions for us. It won’t take long.

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Close READER POLL 2017
We promise this won't (really) hurt.

Wanna win a new surfboard? We have a custom Chilli ‘Black Vulture’ to gift (plus all the trim you’d expect from a premium dealer). To be in the running, just answer a few questions for us. It won’t take long.

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Scenes From Last Night's Gathering In Venice

It was a hot, we’ll call it Tuesday, in Downtown Los Angeles when we started filming for our Danny Fuller profile dramatically titled, “No One’s Gonna Give You Nothing.” The month was June, and today, California has yet to cool down. We - being filmmaker Mike Pagan and I - arrived at Danny’s studio, a large cement building adjacent to a 10 freeway overpass. Beneath the bridge, a shanty town featuring DTLA’s finest transients fraternized amongst themselves. Inside the studio Pipeline guns sat beneath 20-foot-high ceilings, large prints of his photography - now coveted in the world of fine art - hung on the walls, laid across the grey floors; splashes of color rippled across an otherwise big, bland, open room. We pulled out a bench, sat down and had a pointed discussion.

We talked about Danny Fuller the surfer. Danny the artist. That Chanel Ad. Inspiration. His mother’s battle with cancer. His win at Sunset during the Triple Crown in 2014. We talked about capitalizing on opportunity. And, at every corner, at any hardship in life, how to come out the other side with a positive outlook.

Fast forward to Indian summer. It was a warm October night at House Beer HQ, Venice Beach. Ten minutes after the doors opened at 7, the space filled up (so I was told). I showed up late-ish, after a last minute run to Staples to pick up the roll of red raffle tickets I’d elected to take care of and subsequently forgot about. At the door, Danny and Dylan Goodtimes greeted me. We said our hellos, niceties and how are yous. Danny told me he was suffering from social anxiety. It was 7:40 and shoulder to shoulder. A group of thirsty, bearded, cuffed pants, beanie-wearing men, and some of the prettiest girls occupying the greater Los Angeles region huddled around the beer tap and table supporting countless bottles of wine and sandwich sliders courtesy of Mendocino Farms. I handed out red tickets, quoted Miss Winfrey, with little explanation of what they were for - trying to get rid of them, join the crowded tap and drink enough to lubricate my “social anxiety.” You get a ticket, you get a ticket, so it goes.

We were premiering our film with Richer Poorer – a fine excuse for a Thursday night soirée – with the general understanding that today we’d wake up dusty. Danny had donated one his pieces (the reason for those red tickets), after the showing he picked a matching ticket out of a hat to give away to some lucky party-goer. Danny won’t tell you this, but after a bit of sleuthing, we learned he sells prints for upwards of $20k. His work, in the weird world of fine art, is something to be desired.

After the main event we sucked the outdoor taps dry. Not a grape was left in the wine bottles. We found the keys to the indoor fridges filled with House Beer, that, while locked, were taunting empty cups. We proceeded to converse. Dance. Drink. And by 9 all social anxieties had evaporated into a party to remember - if only in a haze.

The evidence will live above these few words, presumably forever, due to the internet’s flawless memory.

"No One's Gonna Give You Nothing" premieres digitally tomorrow (9 am PST, 3 pm GMT).

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