Passion = Truth? How Jeffrey James Francis Ircink Sees The World? I love when people are passionate about something. That surging of emotion is the one honest measure of what truth is. It's a truthful display of how a person really feels about something or someone at that particular moment. That passion IS truth.



About me...

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Greendale, Wisconsin, United States
Ex-producer of THE REALLY FUNNY HORNY GOAT INTERNATIONAL SHORT FILM FESTIVAL, playwright, actor, singer, outdoorsman, blogger, amateur photog, observer & bitcher, Beach Boys groupie, Brett Favre fanatic, lover of everything Celtic and forever a member in the Tribe of HAIR. Spent most of my life in the Village of Waterford, a small town just outside of the Milwaukee suburbs. After 12 years in North Hollywood, Bel Air and Culver City, Cali, I moved back to Wisconsin in September 2009. No regrets - of moving to LA OR moving back to WI. Have traveled to Belfast, Ireland, Dayton (OH), Manhattan, Seattle, Cedar Rapids, New York, Miami and Sydney, Australia with my plays. Moved back into the Village of Greendale where I was born. Life is good.

Celtic!

Showing posts with label Pismo Beach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pismo Beach. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

The Journey IS the Destination #7: Post-Apocolyptic Australian Wasteland/Pismo Beach

Sunday, June 22. Ahhh...Pismo Beach - without the hockey mask and leather body wear. "The Road Warrior" was the first thing that popped into my head when I saw the scene below.

Way off in the distance you can make out a line of vehicles traveling up and down the coast. Dune buggies flying all over the place, a traffic jam sans pavement, broken axles, the smell of gasoline, campers and sand everywhere – meaning in the streets. on sidewalks and blocking the doors to storefronts. Mayhem. I couldn't get out of there faster.

Campers. Picnic'ers. Maybe a carny or two. Troublemakers if you ask me.

There's the broken axle dude. Some vehicles are really unsuited for four-wheeling on the beach. Not really sure I'd want to be a part of this scene - something inside told me that the shit could get outta hand here really quick. My best friend, Tom, has camped here several times when he was living in Long Beach. I certainly trust his judgement and I have no problem with camping on the beach – roaring fire, Beach Boys’ tunes cranking, a little drinkie, chicks – only with the "getting there" part. Jas felt the same way.


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