Freewrite

I'm listening to Gigantic. The Pixies were the first band I ever really loved. The songs Brick is Red and Break my Body moved me to tears on several occasions. Listening to them now, I have no idea why. The music is really cool, but it doesn't have the same value to me anymore. It is just music, not the anthem it once was. I remember really liking the Pixies and trying to get Dylan to listen to them in his car. He refused and asked what the big deal with the Pixies was. Once Jordan and Corey started listening to them he was all about them. That sucked. I wonder if any of the three of them will read this, and what their feelings on that will be. That was back in the days of skateboarding. I miss skateboarding. It was my best "sport" endeavor. I was good at skateboarding, at least compared to those boarding with me. I kick flipped the seven stair. Skateboarding did things that were good for me. I liked the independence and purpose it gave. Me and Michael and Jeff would pick up and hit a gap for a few hours. We sweated and sat on our boards and put our elbows on our knees and wiped our faces with our shirts. Grimy asphalt worked itself into the creases of our bodies. Sometimes I carried a bottle of seltzer water with me. Sometimes Michael was hijacked by the stoners and then skateboarding wasn't as much fun. Bleary eyed, he would sit on the curb and say silly things. I haven't found something comparable to that sense of accomplishment after landing the perfect flip, or olliing 5 skateboards stacked, wheels interlocking. I biked across the country in 9 weeks, and I am still prouder of my multiple attempts at olliing the 11 stair, even though I never landed it. To bike across the country all I had to do was wake up and put one foot after the other. The 11 stair ate two of my skateboards, and was never conquered. But to face her was to face an Everest. It took some balls culminating in a poetic pop-woosh. The pop was the tail of my skateboard clacking on the sidewalk inches before the abyss. The woosh was the flight. Like an arrow I flew through the air and down the stairs, an unusual approach to descending stairs. Time after time I landed with a crash. Sometimes the board shot out in front of me and my ass hit the ground. Twice I landed perfectly but the thing wood of my board just couldn't survive the impact, and the stress points of the contraption splintered, making me do the splits, one foot on each half of the skateboard rolling away from each other. Once I gave up half way through the air, kicked the board away from me and landed in a crouch like if I had jumped without the skateboard. My head, or eye, more specifically, collided with my knee with the force of 11 stairs skipped. That one is on film.