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Mon, May 18 2026, 5:33pm PDT [ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1], 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ]

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Date Posted: Mon, Jan 24 2005, 3:40pm PST
Author: Dorian
Subject:
Crawled out from the pain of yesterday, I crawled to you and I said all the things that you said to say - have I said enough?


The young man was alone, yet again - this was not something new in Dorian's book - he spent the majority of his days alone, or in the company of one or two close, intimate friends, but usually on the waves - where he was technically alone in the fact that there were no people around, but not alone. He, like many other pro surfers, worshipped the ocean and it's effects, and like a handful of others considered the ocean to be his lover - the only one faithful - people lied, the ocean didn't. It was that easy. Rubbing a hand through his mussed dirty blonde locks, he made his way in and seated himself at a couch, flipping through a surf magazine that he had imported into the lodge in his hand, curled into a roll. He tugged up the sleeves of his oversized white knit sweater and tugged down the legs of his faded jeans for comfort - he was developing something of a sniffle, so he had stayed off of the waves today - typically one to surf in any kind of weather, under any circumstances, he knew he needed to respect his body and the time it needed to get over whatever was inside of it, or he would end up sicker than he cared to think about - consequently, the man had never spent more than a day sick in bed, and that worked out fairly well for him.

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