We always parked on the “landside” of Atlantic Avenue, generally at my mom’s friend’s house. This was back when it was still possible to rent a place on the north end of Virginia Beach long before everything became a zillion dollars and street parking was regulated. Aunt Susie’s high school-age son Rich of course did not want to hang out with a little kid like me, but I was fascinated with his black light posters, wizard statues and hard rock playing just loud enough to be noticed by, yet not bother, his mom. I would be psyched though when he would occasionally schlepp down to the beach with us. He showed me how to body surf, which later begat boogie boards and eventually surfing. Meanwhile, Mom, Aunt Susie and others would congregate on beach chairs/towels carrying on about whatever. They and the vast majority of people in attendance were covered in Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil (that scent is forever etched in my noggin) and would be static for the duration. Maybe Mom and friends would take a walk, but that was generally it. As for any other athletic endeavors occurring, there would be some volleyball games, frisbee/football tossing and sailing. Hobie Cat owners would be taking their boats out when, like other past things from that era, it was still acceptable to leave the boats parked on the beach when not in use (most of the year).
That stuff, however, all seemed boring to me. I guess on the once or twice per season that a friend of friend would offer to take us out on those catamarans and the boat would get up on one pontoon that was exciting. Again though, this was not a regular occurrence for me. I could go body surf anytime even in the most pathetic of breaks. I wanted to be moving. I wanted the rush (hard rock pun-intended), and I wanted—unknowingly—some danger. These three factors have driven me forever and it is only now that I can say this is where my relaxation is. Today, let’s talk about relaxation outlets, comparisons, contrasts and maybe why I probably could stand to chill out. First however, enjoy some doctorate level music.
Music Selection: Dr. Know: Plug in Jesus/Burn E.P. Malice and malevolence. Music has numerous examples of mean-spiritedness and dark intentions. You can draw a straight line from The Rite of Spring to Sympathy for the Devil to Jack on Fire. Another act that caught my attention following my initial foray into hardcore punk was Oxnard’s Dr Know. They had the telltale speed, aggression and the cool AF graphics I liked, but Dr. Know added in a new level of nastiness into the mix. Their lyrics delved into murderers, comic book violence, gore and the music possessed a metallic edge with all the subtlety of a dental drill. Songs like “Life Returns” and “Killing for God” bludgeoned this creepiness into my head. None of this is available on Bandcamp, but the whole shebang is YouTube linked in the title. I have to say that my favorite track from them and the one to Czech out if nothing else is Watch it Burn. My blood still boils every time this ripper shows up in a playlist. Driller killer approved.
Merriam-Webster defines relaxation as it relates to this discussion as “a relaxing or recreative state, activity, or pastime.” The beachgoers I referenced above mostly weren’t into enjoying a few seconds of the waves propelling them forward until either losing one’s momentum or getting slammed in the shore break. Their calmness came from sitting whilst being baked by the sun, sipping booze, and kibbitzing with their friends. I can say with near certainty that they would not have found anything in Dr. Know’s oeuvre relaxing.
This contrast confounded me for years in the mass’s tastes or lack thereof. Why were I and few others drawn to an esthetic and activities that few considered and even less appreciated? The term adrenaline junkie gets batted around for those who are driven to seek out high risk activities that produce a rush of adrenaline and the associated endorphins. These characteristics can range from the milder defaults like procrastination up until the last minute for assignments to high stress work environments (e.g. firefighters, emergency room docs)—and most relevant here—the thrill seekers. Overall, about 1 in 5 people in the U.S. participate in adventure sports, but that percentage plummets when you get into groups of people with a low harm avoidance. Did I have a death wish?* Maybe it was just a matter of relativity or some combo thereof.
Many, if not most, I’ve encountered would think I was nuts doing many of the activities I enjoy. This has increased with time. I hear a routine refrain of “I’m too old for—” fill in the blank, or more glib pronouncements like, “That’s above my pay grade” or “My spouse will kill me if doing _____ doesn’t first.”
*The Bronson a popular bike from Santa Cruz which debuted in 2013 and remains a stalwart of their lineup was named for the street their original factory was on. However, I immediately thought of Charles Bronson and when I considered getting one I was determined to have a picture of him made into sticker to place on it.
Meanwhile, I began wondering where the line was that many, I knew crossed that said they could no longer play or were expected to look like everyone else in society. This included even more mild pursuits. I began considering this inquiry in my early twenties when I saw myself slow my skateboarding efforts and others trade in their Vans/Doc Martens for loafers or golf shoes. My skateboarding obsession evolved into mountain biking, but that had nothing to do with being more of an adult or playing it safe. I never started listening to mellow tunes; my esthetic remains my own thing, and I continue to find delight in the moments where I nearly eat shit. Everyone has their own cup of coffee as Stevil says. Many find Nirvana in the slow and steady versus the chaotic anti-flow I chase. Certainly, plenty within my tribe would think what I dig is no big deal and probably a few find my dressing for the crash approach lame, but again that is a niche within a niche.
I am not sure I will recognize when the line arrives where I am to cease my indulgences. Will I eventually find myself sunning on a beach? I do know I’m older now than my mom and her pals were at that time and I am still stomping on the pedals, with noisy crap turned up. So relaxing!