I don’t like to surf… It’s much like skateboarding… Pointless and hard to understand… Now, biking on the otherhand is a real sport… There is an adrenaline rush as you soar through the sky off of a 10 foot jump… You should try it…
I love to surf. Once I surfed into the auburn sky. I fell off and hit a kit several feet below that. I ran to the beach to surf and fell into the water. As soon as I got dried off the wave came crashing down on me and soaked me again. This is so wet and so wild, to surf like being on ice.
surfing is done o the sandy beaches of california where people wear shorts with flowers. red flowers, blue flowers and green are all the same, i don’t like them all.
i hate them, i hate all humans, myself included. why?
i don’t know.
Surf the waves in the lake, in the river, where only your thoughts have been. Break the branch you were balancing on, so how far it will reach. Take your time, you don’t need my hand, you need some strength of your own. Close your eyes and just pretend, and the ocean will dissipate into the sweetest sound and the lights will fall until they’re beneath the ground, only there when you wish them to be.
The surf washed over her. But she couldn’t feel it.
This was for the simple reason that Katie was dead. She didn’t feel anything. But she could see herself on the beach, where she stood, or rather, where what was left of her stood. “What is left of me?” She wondered. She still had thoughts, and that was confusing. She could also walk the beach, although she couldn’t feel the sand beneath her feet, or the wind against her skin. Her sensation was lost, yet there she was, looking at herself, the shell of herself, empty, as what had once filled that shell stood on the beach. Or stood as a spirit would.
surfing the waves of what this reminds me of writers craft. some combination of hollister-esque enough to make you sick but a tthe same tgime some beautiful novelty. i surfed above a windshield over the parking lot tire treads breathing, i couldnt be any more alive than that take me to the beach. take me to the beach.
when i was in nicaragua, the 8 of the students were supposed to go surfing in the smooth waves of the beaches of nicaragua, but we need to pass a swim test and there wasnt enough time for us to do it!
I surf the crowd in the hopes of finding some human emotion. Excitement? No, that would be a stretch. Fear? I’m the devil, what have I to fear. Happiness? Never. I’m so tired of being so empty.
I was bored and decided to spend some time surfing the web… not much to look at so I hit on stumble and the next thing I know I am writing this stupid paragraph about doing nothing. I wonder what happens to this… Will someone out there surf the web and come across my nonsense? And what would they write? How long do I have to finish this?
There was only water — only air and salt and the smell of it all. And there had been grace, before it was gone — before he drowned in the whiteness of the forth, in all its beauty and fragility.
So they dragged him from the water, and waited until the woods to bury him, and she tied her hair up for mourning, and all that was good in the water was gone.
I would like to surf the great oceans, alone on my board at one with the earth water sky. Could I do it? Am I brave enough. The water would carry me to places I have never been. I need to surf.
There’s a college surfing championship coming on today, I think. When I saw the ad I thought, “Man, I wish UT had a surfing team.” But then again, for someone who has a hard enough time staying upright on dry land, probably not a good idea.
His memory surfed effortlessly atop my thoughts until I was able to bring in the monsoons. It was only then that he was able to be drowned by a force greater than himself and more momentarily stronger than his tool.
one day a young boy saw a surfing campaign at the end of his summer vacation. he wondered why people always held these dares for surfing in the cold waters during winter. The prize money was a thousand dollars but he thought it was ridiculous.
The waves crashing along the shoreline, the surfers gliding along the surface of the water like phantasmal ghosts. They waited, drifting aimlessly, waiting for the next big wave, where they would pit their mind, body, and soul against the ocean once more.
The wind and palm tree’s know it. The volley ball players know it. Even the crabs know it. So, I want you to get with it, and enjoy the surf with me for just a little while.
We could make it our own, and get clean together for a short while.
i wash my clothes using surf excel.Surfing is one of my favourite sports.I would like to become a successful surfer someday.I like surfing on internet.
the crest of a wave. fifteen and swimming out to sea. beyond the break, but wait. white foam festering ahead. break through, siz foot swell. keep swimming, he says, keep swimming. we swim.
wow, how do i even think about writing about surfing, considering i don’t like it but i guess it’s an integral part of my life, growing up in Sydney and all. i remember those stupid ‘lets go surfing’ lessons, even though i had my first kiss after one of them at lauras for truth or dare. and sasha surfs. and i hate maroubra beach, did i ever mention that?
I don’t like to surf… It’s much like skateboarding… Pointless and hard to understand… Now, biking on the otherhand is a real sport… There is an adrenaline rush as you soar through the sky off of a 10 foot jump… You should try it…
Surf the ocean or surf the net, one can calm you down and one can kill you. Guess which does which!
I love to surf. Once I surfed into the auburn sky. I fell off and hit a kit several feet below that. I ran to the beach to surf and fell into the water. As soon as I got dried off the wave came crashing down on me and soaked me again. This is so wet and so wild, to surf like being on ice.
surfing is done o the sandy beaches of california where people wear shorts with flowers. red flowers, blue flowers and green are all the same, i don’t like them all.
i hate them, i hate all humans, myself included. why?
i don’t know.
Surf the waves in the lake, in the river, where only your thoughts have been. Break the branch you were balancing on, so how far it will reach. Take your time, you don’t need my hand, you need some strength of your own. Close your eyes and just pretend, and the ocean will dissipate into the sweetest sound and the lights will fall until they’re beneath the ground, only there when you wish them to be.
The surf washed over her. But she couldn’t feel it.
This was for the simple reason that Katie was dead. She didn’t feel anything. But she could see herself on the beach, where she stood, or rather, where what was left of her stood. “What is left of me?” She wondered. She still had thoughts, and that was confusing. She could also walk the beach, although she couldn’t feel the sand beneath her feet, or the wind against her skin. Her sensation was lost, yet there she was, looking at herself, the shell of herself, empty, as what had once filled that shell stood on the beach. Or stood as a spirit would.
surfing the waves of what this reminds me of writers craft. some combination of hollister-esque enough to make you sick but a tthe same tgime some beautiful novelty. i surfed above a windshield over the parking lot tire treads breathing, i couldnt be any more alive than that take me to the beach. take me to the beach.
when i was in nicaragua, the 8 of the students were supposed to go surfing in the smooth waves of the beaches of nicaragua, but we need to pass a swim test and there wasnt enough time for us to do it!
the surf rolled in gently and steadily just like one supposes true love would…..
I surf the crowd in the hopes of finding some human emotion. Excitement? No, that would be a stretch. Fear? I’m the devil, what have I to fear. Happiness? Never. I’m so tired of being so empty.
I was bored and decided to spend some time surfing the web… not much to look at so I hit on stumble and the next thing I know I am writing this stupid paragraph about doing nothing. I wonder what happens to this… Will someone out there surf the web and come across my nonsense? And what would they write? How long do I have to finish this?
is one way to get serious good times from the sea.
typically associated with hot chicks and dumb guys.
Dunkle Wellen, dunkle K
There was only water — only air and salt and the smell of it all. And there had been grace, before it was gone — before he drowned in the whiteness of the forth, in all its beauty and fragility.
So they dragged him from the water, and waited until the woods to bury him, and she tied her hair up for mourning, and all that was good in the water was gone.
I would like to surf the great oceans, alone on my board at one with the earth water sky. Could I do it? Am I brave enough. The water would carry me to places I have never been. I need to surf.
sea , sand , sharks , south africa , australia , waves , wipeout , waxing that board !
There’s a college surfing championship coming on today, I think. When I saw the ad I thought, “Man, I wish UT had a surfing team.” But then again, for someone who has a hard enough time staying upright on dry land, probably not a good idea.
His memory surfed effortlessly atop my thoughts until I was able to bring in the monsoons. It was only then that he was able to be drowned by a force greater than himself and more momentarily stronger than his tool.
Where should I surf in Kansas? In my imagination, I guess.
I surfed all the way to my bedroom last night.
The water is everything. Watch it advance slowly over the sand and take over. It is the only way out, and yet it traps us. Don’t try to escape.
one day a young boy saw a surfing campaign at the end of his summer vacation. he wondered why people always held these dares for surfing in the cold waters during winter. The prize money was a thousand dollars but he thought it was ridiculous.
The boys surfed, and the girls sunbathed. I watched, and dreamed one day I could be one cavorting in the waves.
act of sailing on a board
to look things up
The waves crashing along the shoreline, the surfers gliding along the surface of the water like phantasmal ghosts. They waited, drifting aimlessly, waiting for the next big wave, where they would pit their mind, body, and soul against the ocean once more.
The wind and palm tree’s know it. The volley ball players know it. Even the crabs know it. So, I want you to get with it, and enjoy the surf with me for just a little while.
We could make it our own, and get clean together for a short while.
A wonderful surf today. Nice gentle waves with little white caps. Not a surfing day more of a day to sit and watch and play keep away.
Surf
Wild waves rushing to shore, surfers all abound, rushing back to the shore to catch the next wave, 30 degree weather, November, are they for real!!!!
i wash my clothes using surf excel.Surfing is one of my favourite sports.I would like to become a successful surfer someday.I like surfing on internet.
the crest of a wave. fifteen and swimming out to sea. beyond the break, but wait. white foam festering ahead. break through, siz foot swell. keep swimming, he says, keep swimming. we swim.
wow, how do i even think about writing about surfing, considering i don’t like it but i guess it’s an integral part of my life, growing up in Sydney and all. i remember those stupid ‘lets go surfing’ lessons, even though i had my first kiss after one of them at lauras for truth or dare. and sasha surfs. and i hate maroubra beach, did i ever mention that?