There's something about the Indian Ocean...

I've always loved the ocean, it all started with the Knob Hill spot in Redondo, but there's something about the Indian Ocean that's real "spiritual" or whatever (words do no justice here). Maybe it's the minerals and the mixing of fresh and saltwater at the inlets in the Pilbara; maybe it's that it's connected to a bunch of islands in the vicinity. It could also be the fear that tries to grip me when I see little sharks and crocs swimming around. Anyway, we went to the ocean for a dip after work yesterday, and I was climbing around on these rocks that look like gigantic pieces of bark. My friend Sharmila took some photos of the idiot scrambling around up there, doing taichi and watching birds dive into the ocean for salmon. "Spiritual" Roooight, hehe.

The unshy wildlife and phenomenal natural occurences in the Pilbara are alive everyday, without fail. The fact that the ocean is connected to every other place in the world, like Venice, Ginowan, Catalina, and Sri Lanka makes me real happy when I swim in it.

Though I claim not to like Shakespeare (more Wordsworth and Blake, for me) I remember in A Comedy of Errors, one play that I actually really enjoyed, a brother is a drop of water searching for another drop- his twin- and he delivers this elaborate soliloquy about how a drop when joined into the ocean isn't a drop anymore, but becomes a massive entity that's part of a whole. Or something like that. I butchered it. Haha, in your face Shakespeare. But I like that idea. Truly. Connects me back to everyone back home, my girl in Okinawa, the Inuit in Greenland cleaning his seal blubber in the fjord over there. Take it back to the village, dry it up, save it for winter!

Then I went to play basketball in the village. They just recently got government funding for this dope outdoor basketball court, which is easily the nicest facility for the people, by the people (Jill Churnside, my homie's mum, apparently fought the battle against the government and corporate land-drillers for it). I ball up with the local boys a couple times a week, and it's super fun.

Roebourne basketball is like Brazilian football to me (woo have you been watching the Champions League? Wooooo Barcelona!) - musical and poetic, with tobacco no-taco acro-dunks. (wtf does that mean? duh, smokers, absent shredded carne, and windmills all go together, of course.) (yeah, spiritual.)

And here's my homie Noonie who paints wicked paintings, and we took this photo for his RAG profile. He's been in prison more than half his life, and a lot of Aboriginal people get thrown in maximum security for some of the stupidest shit- like drunk driving and stealing- but now Noonie is super into painting and is a true PROfessional. Word. Good onya, mate. We chill a lot; he's been teaching me a bit of painting, too.

I'll miss this place, but I'm getting my Greyhound Australia ticket up to Broome for next Thursday, where I will be up on the pearl farm, finally. Days on end on the Indian, yes. Can't wait. Hope all is well wherever your home is. Late.