Allan Weisbecker, the noted surfer/author of In Search of Captain Zero, has written a new book titled (take a breath) Can't You Get Along With Anyone? A Writer's Memoir and a Tale of a Lost Surfer's Paradise.

SurfPulse has obtained a sneak preview of the first chapter:

CHAPTER ONE

‘Where shall I begin, please, your majesty?’ he asked. ‘Begin at the beginning,’ the king said, gravely, ‘and go on till you come to the end: then stop.’ Lewis Carroll

Late winter, 2003. We’re coming up on the second anniversary of Mom’s death, which was in April of 2001. As I write these words – indeed, as I begin this narrative – I’m not at my home at the end of the road at the bottom of Central America, in outback Costa Rica. I’m on a certain lower Caribbean island, never mind which one – there’s a great surf break here that doesn’t need more surfers via my blabbing. Back in the 1990s I did a piece about the island for a popular surf magazine and not only did not name it, but I laid in misinformation as to where it is, via some subtle nonfiction deceits.

Lisa is here with me. Lisa is a woman with whom I have fallen in love, at age 55, possibly for the first time. We have a little cottage overlooking a gorgeous stretch of tropical coast. Right now (about 9 AM on a Sunday) the members of the Spiritual Baptist church up the hill are in full, melodic voice. (Back in 1995, in the shore break below us, I was baptized by the church’s Spiritual Mother.) As the Baptists sing, fishermen, many of whom I know, are hand-hauling a seine net in the bay. Everywhere you look there’s a postcard. Later today, the neighbor on the other side from the church will likely play soca music on his stereo. Soca is a form of calypso I like very much. The surf has been great since we got here a few days ago. Lisa surfs also.

As I more or less am trying to say, it’s idyllic here. And you know what? I can’t wait to get back to my home in Costa Rica, with Lisa, if that indeed comes to pass. That’s how idyllic life is there.

That was a photo of Lisa in a bikini you looked at a moment ago. Please bear with me and take another quick glance.

Back? Holy shit, right?

I mention this stuff – plus having you look at Lisa in a bikini again – because my life appears to have worked out, which would make Mom very happy. Toward the end, Mom actively worried about me, how my life would go after she was gone. She mainly worried about me finding someone to love in this world.

As I’ve told Lisa, I only wish she could have met Mom.

So it appears that I’ve finally got what I want, after going through a lot of shit. (I’m not sure whether getting semi-raped in a Panamanian whorehouse counts as going through shit. Maybe.)

Further, I believe I’ve begun this narrative because of my finally having got what I want, or the appearance thereof. In other words, because of Lisa, my having fallen in love with her, at age 55, possibly for the first time.

In a narrative wherein the protagonist goes through a lot of shit, it’s nice if he gets what he wants at the end. Not absolutely necessary, but nice. This is difficult in a memoir, which is a sub-genre of nonfiction, which is supposed to be some sort of description of real life, which this narrative is supposed to be, because real life is hardly ever like that. For example, in In Search of Captain Zero I went through a bunch of shit, then, at the end, pretty much just went through more shit. I mean my dog even died, for Chrissake. I had to jump through some hoops, mainly structural ones, to come up with a satisfying ending to that one.

By the way: Structure. You wanna talk about something a writer sweats over?

So I believe I want to write about my current life, how it goes now that I’ve got what I want and what Mom wanted for me. I say I believe I want to write about that because of a theory I hold.

No one knows shit about why he does anything.

This includes writing, of course. Why a writer writes anything. Sometimes I think I write to find out why I write.

Want to buy the book? Go to Amazon or Bandito Books.

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