Surfing, Skateboarding, Music, Photography, Travel, Culture and general antics of the youth on the run.

Dear Youth Nate Lawrence and the subtleties of a life on the move

Chippa Wilson what youth bali travel surfing

Editor’s note: We spend a lot of time in transit. Kuala Lumpur. Taipei. Singapore. Jakarta. Padang. We go through some odd, waveless middle earth’s on your way to ride waves. And it’s not always beers in the Sky Miles lounge (although sometimes you luck out and it is). Mostly it’s a bed between a chicken coop and the aroma of bird shit and diesel fuel on a ferry. But we can deal. And we do. And we love it. Above you see Chippa Wilson, and below, Nate Lawrence, and some advice on how to thrive, and why, when your’e in transit. As we are, starting now.

Nate Lawrence: “We’re hopping on a ferry tonight. And between the bed bugs, the rotten smell and the rocking of the boat, it’s never a good night’s sleep. That means a little sleep aid is in order. My go to is NyQuil. I buy a box of it from Costco and it puts me out pretty good. I’ve woken up on airplanes before where I’m sleeping on my neighbors shoulder. It’s good stuff. The hope is to remember nothing about the ferry ride. Sleep as much as you can. And wake up to the horn signaling that you’ve arrived at your destination. A couple hours in the car listening to a book on tape and then you’re waxing up your board and paddling out to a fun left-hander. I’m goofy-foot. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Surfing road-trip dear youth what youth

Dear Youth The fun that leads to sleep paralysis

“Never trust a thought that didn’t come from walking.” That’s a quote by an old madman by the name of Friedrich Nietzsche. He’s an existential pioneer and had one hell of a dark passenger throughout his life. But the man sure did drop some wisdom while he was here. I bring this up as a bit…

Coffee Sightglass San Francisco What Youth

Dear Youth A Treatise on Art and Coffee

Coffee is a drug. That’s masked by ubiquity and social acceptance but it’s just hot speed. Black hot wonderful speed. That thought lingered last Saturday morning as a nice young man in a waxed-cotton apron and mustache — and not a November mustache, but a real annual subscription to the thing — fixed my Guatemalan…

Sign up for letters from What Youth

By enabling this page, you are acknowledging and accepting our privacy terms and conditions.