Remember when Slap ran short fiction to accompany photos? The stories always had a skate theme–how it’s cool to skate alone or to skate at night or to skate with friends or to skate when you’re angry or to skate when you’re sad. Basically, skating is cool, you should keep skating, and if you don’t skate, you’ll feel empty. Complex narratives by some of skating’s finest prose stylists.

Anyway, they once ran a story about two dudes who found a new spot, with a surfeit of ledges, stairs and flatground space, in an unnamed downtown. One dude skated every day and got really good; the other profiled–in ’95-’96, that meant hanging out in Polo and Nautica and Nikes, which were still considered chill shoes–and drank 40s and smoked weed. Of course the serious skater, tired of the scene, left the spot and skated all kinds of shit, while the other dude chilled. At the end of the story, it’s understood that skating is productive and hanging out is not.

So, yeah, what’s the point? The other day, when I was nerding at Peace Park (see a couple of posts down), it dawned on me that laptops are the new chill shoes.

What a convoluted post.


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