I Can Achieve Without A Weave-
Magic August on the north shore of Maui---Baldwin Beach
Growing old isn't optional, growing up is. The science of being mellow f
or free costs a lot. It's a full-time occupation. Burn rates in Hawaii vary, but one thing for sure: In Maui, it is as reliable and predictable as an episode of Seinfeld.
There's chill and creativity everywhere you turn; a whole mellow-frigging world out there, clarified and codified and grounded in inner slacker and range free-lactose intolerant Willies: Jobless guys who have 
access to money -- especially a trust fund income or a rich spouse -- and who affects a Lei(ed) back, eco-chic—a.k.a. modern-day bohemian lifestyle. After all, why be a man when you can be a success.
Don't Panic. We're Organic!
They have given up straight society, the treadmill of materialism and consumption and even bathing. They sport the black market wheeler deal vibe. There body language speaks a slang that spits in the street and says, “I want something new everyday.” and “I want to be surprised”.
Eating organic, I run into the herd at Mana. IM'ing pulp free fiction on a cell phone, takes on a more beautiful and more decadent quality in the strangerhood. Gathering in this one big walk-in fridge of an organic health food store, to drink juice made from fallen apples,that's me in the corner-me in the spotlight, losing my religion. Oh no, I've said too much I set it up...
I'm incredulous, at seeing the checkout line crowded with trustie who I figured would be shoplifting their polenta and wheat grass shots. They switch things up for me by whipping out AMEX Platinum plus cards from their backpacks, and taking out some large benjies-freakonomics.
I can hear mid-west receptionists and Soccer SAHMom's talk of responsibility and practicality.
"If only they'd buy hybrid cars and ok, skip the job interview, but get into consulting.They could even ride their bike to work, and wouldn't have to work for the man.".
No, the W2 world is too pedestrian, too mundane, too blue chip.
I feel like a collaborator and sympathizer. I plead guilty to admiring the incongruence of the patchouli-scented promises of a "new leaf", born out of the same sleazy LA/Las Vegas milieu of strippers, surfers, stoners and bikers . They bring glamour, intelligence, danger, sex appeal to Paia, this one-horse town, replacing bottled water and sugar cane as the new "cash crop". Commidified into GNP. They keep this place running like Veblen's leisure class.
Paia is the Trustafarian resort town. If Paia is a business, it isn't Wal-Mart — it isn't trying to be the lowest-priced product in the market. It's a high-end product, maybe even a luxury product. Playing down and out in the Majik kingdom gets you short-listed for a double helping of cool, but don't expect a family friendly Kama’aina discount.
Old Dog. New Tricks.
Instant gratification takes too long. Cinematic instances of my handiwork include talking too fast and too much, drinking too much coffee, and running my show at lightning speed. The quicker I go, the longer it takes. It's not at the speed of light, but rather at the speed of like. That is, however the gods like it. Right now I'm testing/ tracking false/positive for "hanging loose" in the present tense. I did,after all, pack my North Face windbreaker with me, and I 'm not too keen on performing a life hack on my comfort zones.
The other day, the talented Mr Ripley said I had the personality of a Whippet--a small greyhound. If I got to be a dawg, why not a Great Dane, I ain't just nothing but a hound dog in Blue Hawaii, right Elvis? This is where my dreams come true... But in order to come true you first have to have a dream. Mine has alway been the American Dream, but hanging out in Paia makes me think there's nothing really ethical about the work ethic. Yet it does take a certain dreamer with the bravado, and dough , to carve out his own little Disney, and the fruits of life; dreaming with eyes wide open.
Leid-Backspace: East meets West Pacific mix-the not so far east of Tiki Madness
Smooth is fast. The Mess is the message. and these these Island boys chasing those vacation girls are a perfect mess. Their's is a game of waiting for a woman to see the signs of their interest---Sitting, waiting and wishing.
Boarding Pass For The GGG: Hit It And Quit It.
Boys will be boys, and these seize-the-day hedonists have a matter of fact path of hooking up with indie chicks, suicide blondes who are less wheat bread than Wonder; leading them down a trashy club med tarmac, like an infernal connect-the-dots, across the neighborhoods of LA, FLA, NYC and Chicago. Free boarding Passes for the GGG, or "good, giving, and game,"--- Absolute Practice girls, the brahs whittle mellowness down to the big question, "You go with me?", yet you can't imagine any of these girls being offended by such honesty. It holds a lot of salt water. These guys have more GAME than Milton Bradley. AH! The perks of being a wallflower.
Ha
nging out on Baldwin Avenue, I’m reminded of the first song I learned on guitar at the age of reason 15, Father and Son by Cat Stevens. Time to tap into that laid-back musical persona. Oh wait, it's 2007, I mean Jack Johnson. What a flake I am. Has anyone seen my shoes....Time to ride the mellow wave and become a rainbow Nazi anarchist poser Trustie. I hear Bob Marley in the air...as I linger over lunch at Cafe Des Amis . It's as if wandered through my brother's freshman quad at Princeton in Springtime '85
I'm really impressed; however, with the amount of bad hair days in Paia--Trustafarians, financially backed wanna-be hippies: David "Weave" Roth's who ting -tong their hair. Females also sport this fashion, although more commonly under their armpits. All "locked up", these life-long-surfer White Guy's schtick is harnessing the California surf culture yet far away from the melee of the mainland. They look like Brillo pads and Q tips, malnourished stick figures.
These faux freaks make it appealing to guys like me who know nothing of it. Being perfectly bald, I am blood brother to the trustafarians--- thanks in part to MJ, Michael Jordon, who took the shaved skull from, social outcast to rock star chick magnet status. but I have to slow my roll in Paia.
New trucks and cars, a different accent than the rest of us. The ink-loving public ,are all tatted up-- permanent reminders of temporary feelings. I wouldn't put stuff on my body that I wouldn't put on my wall. The tie-dye Garcia shirt, the rainbow hemp cap and 
well worn Teva sandals. Something is definitely under the table, part inherited capital, part cash advance, an underground economy that owes a debt to pleasure. I can only remember from years back spending my derilict youth on Cedar Beach, drinking cases of Heineken with Don Quast and Steve Mars-- I got the FICA score to prove it!
In the human race, Trusties are so far ahead, they presumably no longer need to run the race. Yet, I'm pure as New York snow---where , rudeness is a fashion statement, and the deadliest sin, possibly offending the mafia. No native speaker of American English should speak like me, with my LAWN GUYland accent. and "You got a problem with that" abrasiveness who had to make it and not be born into it. Maui is making me feel I have been talking too loud my whole life. It's easy to say goodbye to yesterday today.
In Paia, "Mellow as a cello" and not "Rocking Out" is easy and effortless. It's old skool 1960's. It's counterculture Turn on, tune in, drop out without the drugs.
Surfing everyday to avoid the boredoms of excess. I won't even go as far as playing Hacky sack, or rasing a crop of dental floss, but my sentiments are with them. I appreciate the effort these people make -- it's better than McJobs and underemployment: Ski bums who don't have to wash dishes or watch CNN -- but I'm not going to treat them as if they're making some amazing sacrifice just because they have two gears—let’s party and let’s surf.
Bike. Dine. Drive. Dive. Shop. Sight See.Swim. Snorkel. Been there. Done that on my terrestrial visitations from the mainland. Trustafarians? Keep the change. Now that I have been booted off the HMS Bounty by my mutinous crew, it's on to Oahu.
Aloha. Peace. Out.
Paia Trustafarians maui hawaii
"I'll take things that I know for $200, Alex."
Ah!, Vegas, the city that inspired Cheryl Crow to sing about it. Life springs eternal
Vegas is mos def in the eye of the beholder. It's puglicious--beautiful ugliness.... heading back to HNL to be a free agent again.
ed reif
