The Florence Boys vs. The Shorebreak
John John surfs the way you mind surf.
Of poetry Allan Ginsberg said it “is the one place where people can speak their original human mind.”
John John and brother Nate trading lickings and visions in hammering Pupukea shorebreak. It’s some gritty, sand-in-all-orifices prose.
While the Pipeline has been off its face over the New Years holiday with both heroic and near-death stories to be told, the Florence boys just slipped out a romping four-and-a-half minutes of zest featuring some dumpy, otherwise forgettable, or regrettable, days out front of the family pad. John and Nate shine like a well-polished couplet.
And for those curious about how the two-time world champ’s limbs have been feeling post Pipe Masters, without a hitch in the giddy-up he shines where normal men would be getting a proper scolding from the lifeguards for even being out there. He glides through impossible gargling sections the way normal men would mind surf them—slouched, hands locked behind the back, spit out, casual as a lazy Sunday afternoon.
“John always said if a barrel spits you can make it,” testifies brother Nate.
Amen. All you gotta do is believe.
