› lyrics

‹ lyrics

Shifting sands
Had other plans
Peace below
Where nobody knows

This cocoon
You can swim but you can't move
Claw back above
salt in the lungs

The world above
with air to breathe
suffocates too, eventually

› object writing

‹ object writing

They always look smaller from the beach. Beauty, awe, fear, adrenaline. A rare treasure that demands decisiveness, stamina, and technique. Crumbling whitewater rapids factored into rows of walls that can reverse all progress in an instant. There's a weakness in the defenses alongside the jagged broken pilings coated with barnacles. The inertia of the ocean swiftly pulls away from the narrow band of shelter marked by the outline of a rip current. Observation to start. Seek the right window between lulls and sets. The decision to go pairs with pressure. It will never be easier to accomplish this mission than right now with fresh muscles. 3-2-1. The cold water saturates the wetsuit, meeting skin faster than expected. Uncomfortably frigid at first. Comfort must be earned by movement. A plop and smack of board on water means it's time to go. Scoop, push, retract, dip, repeat. So much nuance to this simple task. Over and over. Counting down... 200 strokes has worked before. No rest until the first wall, then a new rhythm. Some extra pushes, then redirect all energy toward a perfect dance of laying into the front and then back. Cold water trickles into the ear canal. The view of the wall above is replaced with the view of a new wall below. Underwater limbo. There is no steady way forward. Progress is gains minus losses.

An intoxicating satisfaction presents with the visible outside edge of remnants from the last blast painted white on the water. This zone must be swiftly cleared in one go––bobbing ocean buoys broadcast to space and back that the next blast is at most 12s away. This one must be passed from above or below only before it turns white. The horizon reads like the push/pull retraction of hope in the rising action of a good drama. Poor timing or poor luck––the consequence is the same. A set means the finish line has moved. A new scramble at the peak of exhaustion. Failure means starting over with less gas. The saga collapses into an instant. The wall approaches. It will be white before its time to go under. As fatigue and adrenaline culminate, the hand is forced. All in on one more dive. One, two, three strokes. Up then *down*. No technique offers control in the face of nature. This fate was known to be possible and the dice rolled. Snake eyes. The familiar explosion means that no movement of limb can achieve any particular outcome beyond bracing and protection. The cocoon of turbulence destabilizes any sense of orientation. A tornado of swirls and suctions. Floating in the drain of an emptying bathtub. Submission to the will of the water. Butt to sand outlines the boundary of the beating under however many feet of water lie near the end of the fishing pier. "Up" remains unclear until the aftermath brings everything there.

› idea and narrative

‹ idea and narrative

Loss of control explored through ocean metaphors especially in the context of a surfing paddle out and hold down.

This was the most out of control moment I've felt in my life, and I've been wrestling with safety as an illusion lately as I've been vulnerable and seeking direction.

V1
Pushed deep, butt hitting sand at the bottom
Catching your breath after a hold down swallowing water
darkness and calm there, chaos and turmoil in the light at the surface

V2
you can swim against the current but only for so long. Sometimes its worth fighting and sometimes its best to go with the flow

V3
remnant foam on the surface is evidence that safety is an illusion. The calm is a facade
The other world represented by the outside where theres relative calm and safety compared to the inside, but shore is eerily far away.

› drunk lyrics

‹ drunk lyrics

[VERSE]
Shifting sands
the world had other plans
Peace below
Darkness where nobody knows
Which way is up
Too much silt to see

Twirling cocoon
You can swim but you can't move
Claw back above
salt on the wound
and in the lungs

[CHORUS]
Theres no place like home
In between waves
Quiet and safe
Until the next breaks

[VERSE]
The world with air to breathe
and light to see
suffocates too, eventually

The same water that pulls where you want to go
circles back
You can fight the current
But only for so long