PimpDifferent

The concert started at 8:30 pm, according to the big red letters. There were only 10 or so people in line. Back in the day, the line would be around the block. And you wouldn't be caught with a t-shirt with the picture of the artist performing on the front. A huge concert fashion faux pas, 1/2 of the revelers were sporting their "Common" t-shirt, as if we had to be reminded who they were there to see. We know you like Common, dude. Now depart with the shirt.

"If I don't like it, I don't like it, that don't mean that I'm hating."

Right Common?

•

I usually jump on the subway at this station, but plans have me seeking other things today. I jump on a MetroRapid, 7 blocks north, as I'm acquiring hard to find Japanese import baits. The shop owner knows my M.O.

I will enter his store, and walk around to see any new items might have come in since the last time I was there He will not talk to me, I will not talk to him, until I have finished my walk around the store. During this 'walk,' I will grab bags of plastic worms, hold them up to the light, and either will put them back, or take them up to the counter. I do this for every item I get. You need to be sure things are perfect.

After I have made my way around his tiny store, he brings 5 or 6 baits that he has held in the back, "specially for [me]," he says.

"Zip Orbit 80 Shallow Runner. Very rare bait, like you ask me to get"

"You finally got them in? How many colors?"

"3."

"Good. I'll take 2 of each."

This routine happens every Friday. To think I was gonna drive to Lake Havasu, Arizona to pick up these baits. Largemouth bass make you do crazy things.

•

The second half of the summer has been frustrating, as far as fishing is concerned. I've spent way too many days (and nights) trying to figure out patterns, avoiding rattlesnakes, and avoiding dehydration, as well as 'fishing gang' wars if you can believe that. But, as the old saying goes, "I'd rather have a bad day fishing, than a good day at work."

But, I take things in perspective. Even though a day might not be productive, I'm in the outdoors, working on my tan, enjoying the company of friends, and ultimately, putting time on the water. You can learn from mistakes easier than you can from successes; at least in my life.

I've also had the opportunity to rekindle my relationship with my old cheap Sony Mavica. It's funny how many more pictures you take when the fish are not cooperating.

Lunchbox and his daughter joined me for an evening session at Lake Piru. I didn't catch shit, I felt bad for his daughter who was bored to death, AND I got a $50 parking ticket for parking after hours. It pretty much mirrored my last few outings, and set the pace for the next few outings to come. I did spend a few moments jumping out of my truck and quickly snapping a few pictures inside the town of Piru, before making the 15 minute drive to the lake. I was going to walk around and take some more, but after seeing a patrolling local police car, I decided against it. He might have thought I was casing a place or something. You never know with these small town cops.

And, I just figure that in a town with a population of 1200, the police department is bored; and what better subject to harass than a guy running around with a camera around his neck, taking pictures of random stuff in their town. I don't like cops.

Piru wasn't fun. It was the continuing of a pattern of frustration on the water.

The last time I had hooked a decent fish, Lunchbox and I were walking a quasi trail in the pitch black of night at Castaic. Nothing like wandering off into the dark in rattlesnake country, especially after a influx of baby rattlers hatches. And, if you didn't know, and face it, you probably didn't, baby rattlers are more sinister in their youth than in their adult years. Why?

• No developed rattle. At least with an adult, you can DISTINCTLY tell if one is nearby and you are getting too close. It will send chills up your spine. Baby rattlers, on the other hand, will attach themselves to your calf without prior warning.

• No developed venom control. At least with an adult rattler, it will bite, and recognize that the foe is larger than them, and there is no way it could take it down. It will then secrete less venom from their glands, leaving a painful bite, and less venom than a baby rattler. Baby rattlers have no control of their venom glands, and will bite and empty the venom regardless of what is has bit.

In any case, that's why you always have someone walking the trail before you. You don't want to be 'that guy.'

The bite was not as expected, but I did manage a chunky fish that fought extremely hard. I had jumped over a barbed wire fence that fenced off the NO TRESPASSING area to get into a comfortable position to cast, and when the fish hit, it forced me back over the barbed fence. Of course, my pant leg gets pierced, and i'm left with a nice gash running across my leg. That explains the grimace in the picture. So, yes, I do keep on catching fish. Just not enough. There is reason for this mayhem.

I then decided for a change of scenery. I camped out at Casitas with Lunchbox and his family a few weekends ago, during the peak of the Zaca Fire. Although the fishing wasn't as expected, we did manage to answer the age old question:

"Can 2 men drink a 5 liter keg of Heineken in 2 hours?"

And we found the answer to that question rather quickly.

We fished Friday night, from about 11 pm to what seemed 3 am. I didn't get one bite. After hiking back to the campground at 3 am, I crawled into my new tent that I had just picked up, got a nice spider bite on the back of my neck, and woke up at 5 am to fish the morning bite. Once again, I spent 5 hours for ZERO bites. I got back to the campsite, exhausted, and packed up my gear, my tent, and all my belongings, and took off. Casitas Lake kicked my ass, and I ran out when I still had my pride left. That lake can humble the best of anglers. You roll with the bad and you take the good.

I took a few pictures of the Zaca fire, rising over the treacherous slopes of the Los Padres National Forest. As I mentioned before, when fish aren't biting, my camera seems to be used more often.

Our baseball season came to a quick halt, as we lost our first game of the playoffs. A 13-1 season, down the drain. But, when life gives you lemons...you go fishing on Sundays too.

I fished Barrett again on the last Wednesday of the year. It was a nice change of pace as work has pretty consumed every emotional cell inside me, and having at least one day off during the middle of the week was a breath of fresh air. I've been spending a lot of time in nature. It cleanses the soul.

Lake Havasu next weekend, and then who knows. I'm still on my quest for that double digit fish and it's unfortunate that I've come close this year, but still haven't broke the magical mark. I still have until December 31st, and then it starts all over. The fall bite is starting soon, as I stare out my window and see the gray skyline at 2:54 pm. I'll keep chasing these fish in this small little world I've created for myself.

This is where we came in.