I always wanted to be good at skateboarding. yet every time i found myself the pacified drunk lunatic with a beer shoved up my ass on someone's front porch, confused and diluted i liked to wander around alleys converting backwards christians into the malfeasance we call passing interaction. and with those stoney skaters of the backwards eighties i found solidarity but only in passing glances not to be confused with the california cool. we all get this way. pacified and nonplussed searching for an endearing character flaw that could resemble a home somewhere along the wayward cannibalistic doped out highways of yesteryears. constantly masturbating and finding home in the solace of pederast nuns we mutter slurrey promises into telephones like we had any fucking idea what we were talking about...and where were we? oh yea in my mom's garage as i demonstrated my lackluster kickflipping skills and wished i had enough money to buy the deck and the t-shirt that would make duluth cool. again. lost in a sea of adolescent fuckenall i pushed nails out of my head and spat jubilee while we wallowed in our degradation. fuckferall no oneenall. open wide and willing i gave my communion.