Fall in May

~1~ Mayday

Mayday (mādā):  An international emergency distress signal used by ships and planes at sea. Origin 1920s: representing a pronunciation of French m'aider, from venez m'aider -"come and help me."

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August 21st - Summer - San Fallcon, California

I am lying on my back up at the top the old Annex bleachers, just under the canopy shade of the ancient announcing booth, where the cement is always the coolest. Killing off the last of my lunch break, just staring up at the clouds in the sky above. Desperately trying to find an imaginary white water wave to ride out here. But even the clouds in San Fall suck so hard, that I can't even pretend to paddle out past the cirrus soup and into the quick currents flowing through the high sky. So instead of surfing the skies, I just lay on my back in my shady spot, glaring up at the legion of lame puff-puff clouds overhead. As they arrogantly float along mocking down at me from far above.

Yet another futile attempt to catch the Zen flow and get back to where I belong, instead of contemplating the current reality of my suck life. I think I might actually go insane if I don't get out of the hellhole that is San Fallcon soon, and back to my normal hell at home. But thanks to forces far beyond my control I am stuck in the suck. Forced to endure the never-ending cycle of crap being dropped on me that is my toilet bowl life. And if I was only slightly smarter, I would understand that this is a metaphor for the totality of my entire existence, and just give up fighting fate and embrace the suck. But unfortunately for me, I am not that bright. Something that I've already proved more than once since I arrived here at the beginning of summer to take up my forlorn watch. And everything about my summer in San Fallcon sucks rocks ...even me.

Today marks the lowest point of my life here yet, my 16th birthday. So suffice it to say, that I hate my life to hell just a little more today than the regular. And if I had only one wish, it would be to get back to the life I left behind in Sunset Beach, to the Kingdom by the Sea. Back to the sacred sea that is always calling to me to ride all the waves that she is sending me ...that I am missing here in hell.

To all my friends, who are all probably out in the water surfing right now. Riding real waves and wondering: "Yo bro, does life get any better than this?"   

And I want to warn them so badly: "No bro, it does not! Cause even the worst day in the water is better than the best day without waves!"   

Because for a child of the tides like me, life without the sacred sea is barely living at all. It's just merely existing on air until I can get back to the salt, the sea, and the sand ...and finally breathe free again.

So while I am lying up top the concrete terraces staring up at the sucky sky, not even able to imagine myself sky surfing the crappy cirrus soup above. I hear the faint susurrus song of the victim bird from down below. When the far cry finally reaches up to me in my shady spot at the top, it is barely above an echo.

"Go away ...leave me alone..."

But of course, I ignore the distant cry from the terraces down below trying to interrupt my Zen. It's not unusual for the old crumbling concrete coliseum to be sparsely populated with groups of brats taking a break from the Annex pool to eat lunch. Out enjoying some of the local hostility, that will pretty much bubble up like hot tar everywhere that children gather without adults around to interfere, making them play nice with others. Or the older kids from the various summer school programs, just hanging out between classes smoking and toking and pretending to be cool. All the while engaging in the typical teen tormenting rites of passage. So the victim bird in the mix will either stand up to trouble and take his first beats. Or he will learn to run a little faster next time, then his coward's life will be set from that moment on.