Boldly Skateboarding Beneath the Banner of Jay Adams
(The Skateboarding Memoirs: Installment #1)
It was a funny thing the way skateboarding chose to come back into my life. I was 26 years old & hadn't stood on one for quite some time- 8 years or more. My balance was certainly not what it used to be. But as soon as the rubber-souls on my shoes struck the grip-tape, I was hooked. I began to work daily on the basics. I was unemployed at the time, & the US was experiencing severe economic drought. And there I was- w/out a job & void of prospects, working by the hour to perfect my free-riding, flat-ground skills w/out a single hope of ever going pro, or making any money. There was certainly no future in it for me, except for a future promising passion in its purest form.
I'd been viewing religiously video-clips of the Dogtown days, the Zephyr team. The original surf-style, old-school technique was much more moving, in my opinion, than the current trend of intangible, high-flying, 1000-flips-per-second, circus-act, vert-style made so popular by skaters like Tony Hawk, Bob Burnquist, Buckey Lasek , & my least-favorite of all- that butt-spelunking, soul-sucking, snow-boarding, carrot-topped, cash-machine: Shaun White. It was my opinion that the masses had taken the art right out of skateboarding. Their reaction to the pastime had spawned immense commercial-success, & in order to properly capitalize upon what money could be made, the act of skateboarding had to be envisioned as an item more concrete in definition. An item that could ultimately be sold in stores. Therefore, they had turned it into a sport. It was only their misunderstanding that skateboarding was most definitely NOT a sport. It was an art-form of the highest order. And there was no one better than the originals, the gods-of-street-dissension, the skaters of the 70's & early 80's who knew this best.
My favorite skater above all was, w/out a doubt, Jay Adams. Adams was like an animal let loose upon the street, a gorilla-beast devouring the pavement. At least that was how I saw him. In my mind, Adams represented the polar-opposite-end-of-the-spectrum across from his peer, the graceful, elegant "golden-boy"- Stacy Peralta. Peralta was a man whom, in my opinion, could be considered the father of figure-skating on a skateboard. And altho, I held many elements of Peralta's style in high regard, I could also tell by his way on a board that he was a big-time softy, much like many of the fame-fashioned skateboarders today. As Peralta soared across the barren, poverty-stricken cement-playground of 1973 Mono County, California, the boy might as well have been floating in the sky like a bird (or a Hawk, haha). He dawned the ethereal visage of an angel in the heavens. He danced high above, detached from the world below, impervious to the painful, toiling anguish of the street & it's people.
Adams, however, existed as one w/ the street. Between his body & the asphalt, there seemed to lie no clear distinction. They were one in the same. As the cement-swallowed soil surely does crush down upon its people, ensnaring them to lives of hardship & unforgiving quicksand-esque struggles- Adam's delivered the same back unto it w/ unrelenting, dominant fury. His body formed the posture of a primitive barbarian striking down upon the jungle-floor w/ battering fists. As he dug his arms, legs, & feet deep into the pavement, executing hard-boiled spins & muscled carves- it was obvious, by the sheer dignity of his tricks, especially his failed tricks, that Jay Adams was no stranger to falling or learning how to push himself back up, once he fell, & onward towards the victory of his goals. It seemed he did not care if he hurt himself, that the dedication, the commitment to the trick, even at the expense of enduring immense physical pain- harbored enough pay-off for the young-man in the end. It could also be stated that, as the single-most-profound-member of the Z-boys, Adams was the one to unfortunately get his ass bitten by the inevitable commercialization of the "sport" of skateboarding. As Peralta went on to have success w/ Powell-Peralta Boards, & at the same time, Tony Alva began to blow up w/ his own skating-line, Alva Boards- w/ his ego blazing brightly in each of his advertisements, the cocky, self-assure, curly-headed, financially-successful: "World Champion"- Adams set back in dismay & disagreement as money was made for those who had no problem making bank under the guidelines of American Free-Market Capitalism.
Adam's rejected skateboarding on a professional level. For him, the very act of competition began to rob the meaning out of what had been created freely, out of passion alone, by him & his friends beneath God's golden-sun in 1970's "SoCal". And he became steeped in internal protest against the powers at be, who only cared to rob the art of its freedom, in order to make it into a household name that would, in turn, make them millions. Skateboarding, for Adam's, embodied a message much purer than a rich white-man's pastime. For him, it was the actions, the raw-impressions, the crunching, clawing, teething-spirit of the street that was made sacred. I believe the man saw skateboarding as a way to make comprehensible the madness of the urban wasteland, the slow decay of soul & substance, the demoralization & heartbreak of broken-homes, false-ideals, & cruel abstractions. A rationalization of a world exhausted by the industrialized smudge of 20th-century-blind-ambition. A refuge away from the callous boot-print stamped upon the souls of collective humanity.
It may also be said, that whereas the "art" of skateboarding will never forget the undeniable influence of Jay Adams, the so-called "sport" of skateboarding washed over him like an inhuman force, a cold wave of indifference. One that was certainly not deserved of a legend who stood for a message much clearer than others at the time. An action which serves only to give reason as to why it is so important the "common-man" continue to pump his heart out via the means of a skateboard, trucks, bearings, & wheels. In order to regain faith in humanity & instill hope in place of destitute perceptions & shallow points-of-view.
And it is under such an example of unfortunate circumstance that I boldly choose to ride. Had it not been for folks like Jay Adams, a man like me would stand no chance at recognizing the unfiltered beauty w/in the ART of skateboarding. If I remember back correctly, the reason why I had stopped enjoying the process years ago was that I had become trapped w/in a mind-set cultivated by media, infiltrated into the American home via means of Tony Hawk videogames, one which stated that if a person was unable to execute all the moves on the board w/ ease, on a moment's whim w/out having ever been on a board before; if a very particular &- in my opinion- sterile style, if kick-flips, heel-flips, etc., couldn't be performed w/ immediacy, then that person should quickly step away from the board completely (& continue instead to sit on their dead-ass & watch the X-Games & decompose into a mound of rotting-flesh & learn absolute nothing from life; just play videogames & eat fast-food garbage; & unavoidably die a wasted-cause). A message that stated that skateboarding was a sport belonging to either children or elite professionals- no one else. Those days when to step onto a skateboard, as a beginner, felt much akin to visiting a professional-gym filled w/ bitter-hearted, loud-mouthed, meat-heads, when pushing 450lbs of bubbly flab & rolls. You simply wouldn't want to do it. It could be a humiliating practice. In those days, I had been dying to ollie at the very 1st moment I bought a deck & some hardware. And when I'd failed repeatedly to land one, I'd become discouraged. I'd refused to practice or even enjoy what things I could do well while my skills could be allowed the proper time & space to improve. Instead, I had walked away from it entirely. I had felt there was no chance for me in the world of skateboarding. That I was a failure. That I had failed to become a person of talent. That I was forced to stop because, if not, I would only hurt & humiliate myself further. Such was my misconception of the art-form.
But now I see that there is a chance for me, for all of us to enjoy an activity so pure in its natural design. And now, as a result, my skills are growing on a daily basis. Of course, I'm not making money at it, but I am creating art; valuable, sensuous art for which there is no better thing in the universe, no higher compensation. I am persisting w/in a burning passion to skateboard like a bat-out-of-hell. My days are now filled w/ gratitude for the opportunity to be alive & breathing. And I can feel my body beginning to develop a style all its own, based upon my own immediate geography, as well as what maneuvers I have the ability to execute w/ proficiency right-now, in this moment, on the board.
When I skateboard, there is a freedom- both tangible & complete. A freedom to set my worries aside & think only of my next move: Shall I kick-turn into a small pop-shovit? Shall I carve this hill like I'm surfing a wave? Shall I scoop down low & twist my body into a forward-slide, a backward-slide? Shall I map out & explore my neighborhood? How far shall I journey into the unknown? All components of reality become as a kaleidoscope, casting images of magnificence towards my animal eyes, my newborn eyes free to explore the world w/out casting down judgment upon it but only absorbing it for what it truly is: my canvas, my notebook, the soaking clay between my fingers, the living wave on which I ride, the Big-Kahuna, the journey towards enlightenment.
Now when I think about the state of our nation, the sadness we all endure, the hardship, the failure, the disappointment- I try not to think in such solid, artificial terms. I try not to measure the world only for what it's worth. Instead, I envision it for its infinite possibility & potential. And as a man w/out a steady job, w/out a salary, w/out a contract, w/out benefits, w/out health-insurance, but only as a laborer of the earth itself: of carpentry, gardening, writing, skateboarding, art, & thought- I witness my endless ability w/in a world confined to plastic rules & regulations. I begin to realize that such a world seems to pass me by only because I, like many others ahead of their time, am a man in the spirit of Jay Adams. I am a person who cares deeply for the art of living. One who is willing to go thru extreme measures just to realize how to become most fulfilled w/ my life. And as many of my neighbors, my family members, my friends, my detractors, the members of the community of my life sit ill-pleased w/ the quality of their own experience, spared upon us all by people who envision only cash-value as a commodity; those who are so willing to judge me as a 26-year-old-man who chooses to use his time skateboarding w/out cease, working only every-other-week as a handy-man, instead of hunting down the best job opportunity, the most lucrative career possible- I get to proudly declare the last laugh as my own. For as opposed to possessing such a demeaning, inhuman impression upon God's free gift of life, I am choosing to live boldly under the banner of Jay Adams. The man who taught me that the best in skateboarding is the best in life, that which comes to us freely. That which appeals heroically to our passions. That which, once unearthed, can never be silenced so long as you live. And then long after you die, that which takes shape in the form of immortal legacy.
So now I feel that I must say to all of you: passion is of the most sincere commodity, as is an endlessly hopeful perception of our natural world. Forsake all material suggestion. Find meaning in yourself. Allow your mind to open up the gateways that now stand between you & eternal bliss. And I swear you will find it. The world will lay beckoning at your feet, perhaps in the shape of a board w/ wheels, begging you to take a ride towards moments that make you feel truly alive. All misery & agony will subside &, in turn, give way to something of a purer fashion. Happiness & fulfillment will envelope you as a kindly womb. Life will overwhelm you w/ it's limitless wonder. And you will become a being-of-light for which to share w/ the rest of us. Lord knows that then, & only then will we get to a better place as a collective. Once we are each realizing our place under the sun, our purpose in life, our reason for giving. Once we are able to give to our fullest extent. Only then will we be at our best. And only then will we soar like the eagles high above this tainted world forever.
THE END
(of Part One)
PS- In order to attain the full intention of these memoirs, it may be useful for one to conduct minor research (or YouTube videos) many of the people I am discussing. It will provide further insight as to what was fully intended by my words & references to people. Thanks for reading.
Rank-Hard biotchezz
Funny-little-fact: In the movie: Lords of Dogtown, Emile Hersh (actor famous for playing Christopher Johnson McCandless/ Alexander Supertramp in the kickass film: Into the Wild; McCandless being one of my largest influences) also plays a young Jay Adams in the movie: Lords of Dogtown. In fact, it was his role in Lords of Dogtown that helped him grab the attention of screenwriter/director/actor: Sean Penn (maker of the film: Into the Wild). Furthermore, Penn also narrates Stacy Peralta's documentary over the Z-boy's/Dogtown, as well as plays a major contributing part to the stellar documentary-film: Born Into This (a documentary over the life of my all-time favorite writer: Charles Bukowski.)
Sounds to me like Emile, Penn, & myself ought to get together sometime to grab a stiff-drink. Seems like the 3 of us would have one hell of a time, haha.
