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Al's in Tampa. #tampapro #fanfavorite

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Quick follow-up on @andrewreynolds' @epiclylaterd episode on @viceland the other night ...
I asked THE BOSS for some parenting advice, and wouldn't you know it, he landed bolts.
Respect advice, honesty advice, drug advice, alcohol advice, skateboarding advice, and art advice—you can read it all at @vice (link in my bio, yo).
Here we are.

Every reader of this post, every friend of every reader of this post, and everyone else in the world is at an age where we're no longer observing from the sidelines as our grandparents' friends, our parents' friends, or our older siblings' friends pass away.

We are here, watching as our friends expire.

It doesn't seem right, but it happens, and it's very bad and very stupid and it's going to happen again.

But weren't we untouchable?

Weren't we below the radar enough, behind the scenes enough, unexplainable enough? Didn't we adequately side step concerns over real jobs, real responsibilities, and real life so convincingly that we earned ourselves a Passover when it came to a disadvantage of this nature?

I know the answer. But in hearing the deep, guttural negative, I'm still looking for a way out of the inevitable, knowing that something as real as death doesn't apply—shouldn't apply—to anyone in my circles.

Didn't I just talk to him the other day? Weren't we just shredding together a few hours ago, weeks ago, months ago, sharing the silent stupidity of curb cuts, slappies, or the verb "shredding”? Didn't we just try some dull-witted handshake and laugh it off as our knuckles cracked ineptly? Didn't he just let me know of his admiration of our mammalian brotherhood, or of my pointless joke, or of my pivot to fakie? Didn't I just tell him yesterday that he's one of my favorite people of all time? Didn't I just tell him?


I haven't talked to him in a while. I mean, I hadn't talked to him in while. I mean … you know what I mean.

I just really liked having him around. By around, I mean alive. Knowing that he's no longer in the area, no longer a couple states over, no longer in contact with those other friends of mine, who I know are taking care of him, is like suddenly knowing nothing. And by nothing, I mean nothing.

I'm here, we're all here, and he's not.

I don't think I'll write his name on my shoes. I won't wear a black armband. I'm just gonna be sad for a while. After that, I'll go places where we skated together, where we rode together, where we learned together ... (continued in comments)
To celebrate last night's @epiclylaterd episode on @viceland—and in loyal service to hype sessions forever—I shot the shit with @themuska for @vice and asked him to break down his ten most-wanted boomboxes (link in comments).

J o h n M c L a u g h l i n
Ahead of his @epiclylaterd episode on @viceland, I spoke with Spike Jonze for @vice about the tools of his sole-stealing trade, and all the cameras he's loved and broken (link in comments).
"You coming downstairs? 'Cause, you know, I'm downstairs."
Interviewed another @epiclylaterd heavy hitter for @vice (link in comments).

"Andy Roy is, in many ways, the prototypical skateboarder. A tatted hell-raiser born and raised in NorCal, his approach to skateboarding—and life—has always been gloves-off, full-throttle, and fuck-you. Bystanders beware."

📸 @tobinyellandphoto