Watch genius at work!
It opens with Rob standing in his doorway nonchalantly strumming some serene chords on an acoustic guitar.
He looks up, spots you, smiles his “need some more advice on trimming your bonsai, neighbour?” smile.
Before you know it he’s invited you round the back for, you know, just some hang time.
Distracted as you are by the luxurious flow of his gold and sliver curls – almost dreaded and yet not, as if even the hair on his head is too aggro-adverse to trouble itself with knotting itself into locks – you barely notice the talk has turned to surf.
“The last month has just been insane,” says Rob.
Insane.
The bombast of the word loses all bluster as it passes across the Machado vocal chords, that NPR late-night vocal fry as comforting and homely as a well-brewed coffee supped on a patio-deck drenched in a Southern Californian sunset, in a modest yet charming suburban backyard.
A backyard just like this one in fact; for Rob’s backyard is that backyard.
It is humble, unassuming. Modest but assured of itself. Ramshackle yet rustic. It’s a misshapen pomegranate nestled in a hand-woven basket of a backyard.
He mentions something about Covid projects. Covid? Oh right, yeah. You’d forgotten about that. You’d forgotten about the WSL, Trump, the pain in your lower-back…
Now he’s giving you the tour.
“It’s like a little zen zone,” he says. “My tangerine tree is flourishing.”
Flo-rish-ing. You sigh the sigh of an Andalusian field-worker’s first sip of la primera cerveza de la noche.
“I got my avocado tree.”
Such a good avocado tree.
“And my Paulownia tree.”
Your what tree? Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is: You believe. You’re in.
Now he’s telling an anecdote, nay – a parable – about this one tree and how he coaxed it out of its seedling solely with the power of his voice, until it burst forth from its plastic pot and grew so high it tickled the moon.
“It seemed kind of stressful…“
Wait, stressful? The word jars against the serenity of the scene.
“…from a gardening perspective,” he clarifies.
Ah. Gardening. Gardening’s not stressful. Gardening’s wholesome, healthy. Chill.
Rob Machado ASMR gardening anecdotes. Sign me up.
Then he’s on about surfing again. Destination days. Strikes to Mex.
Oh, and did he mention? The rails on his custom board lying right there? Paulownia wood.
Gasp! Just like the tree from the story!
The world feels complete.
“It feels good to be surfed out.”
It feels good to hear Rob Machado say it feels good to be surfed out.
You gaze up at the hypnotic tips of the Paulownia’s swaying limbs. You close your eyes, feel the So-Cal sun on your face. Rob’s playing guitar again.
You awaken.
Home.
Back at your own dingy flat.
Everything is beige, anaemic.
You curse your asinine life.
There’s no tangerine tree in your garden, flourishing or otherwise.
There’s just next door’s dog shit and an up-turned garbage can.
The shrill squawk of your phone. The bank. Three thousand bucks worth of Rob Machado signature surf kit.
How the fuck?
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wiry longhairs sell surfboards, see also craig anderson
Not sure… where did Nelsen come from? Hopefully not “kneel son”? History is so fucked.
Biggest sellout ever the whole persona is marketing bullshit
wtf this worse than the real estate posts
douchbaggery at its finest…
So if he got on some pro-type boards and wanted to go up into and above the lip, could he still be top 16 at his age?
He’s smooth, aye. Not many false notes in his surfing.
The future is in dried dogshit blanks.
Hurlurley signature series?
Hurluley might have to spin off a greenwash eco label for laundering ill-gotten sweatshop profits.
Spoken like a true pro, perhaps even Goat level
Shapers love em
Who is this John mis ‘spelly’ ?
And why do we only have this dross to comment on today ?
Surely you could’ve had him (or anyone) write something better.
Oh that’s right, it’s really just a crappily composed advertisement for Kahlils piece of crap shitboard company ?
Fuck off Kelly, we’re sick of the lies…
(and take Dirk and Laird etc with ya)
His name does appear to be a crappy pseudonym. However apparently it is a real surname. I wonder if the origins of the name have anything to do with being the illegitimate love child of the GOAT e.g. missing their father? Similar to the surname Dickinson which has quite apparent origins.
Hahahahahahah
They all seem to be Drek wannabes, these BG writers. All flowery language and innuendos. Fortunately there’s no such mediocrity(?) below the line
I’ve heard schizophrenics muttering to themselves in dunny block cubicles making more sense than this.
I think the author of the above piece is suffering from that ‘green eyed monster’, envy or jealousy, or something like that.
For me, I’m very content with the surf life that I have, my wife, my kids. I can get to the Ocean in just a couple of minutes.
I don’t have the best boards or the best cut-back, but I’m content.
I’m still stoked.
God is good.
Yeah mate. Would cut my own dick off before having to surf a FireWire anyway. Keep enjoying yourself brah.