I’m envious of you.
For one thing—you lucky bastard—we probably haven’t even met … that alone makes me envious. You haven’t yet had the displeasure, and that’s a feeling I wish I could experience.
Don’t get me completely wrong; I’d also like to experience your nollie heel, your wide trucks, your automobile, your whole vibe. And if that means we have to meet, well, I guess that’s just a sacrifice I’ll have to make.
I’m envious of the man who the devil asks, “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” Likewise, when they ask the devil, “What the fuck are you doing here?” I can’t believe his flame-retardant fortune.
Sorry, what? You got a new phone? God, that sounds good.
Wait, you meant you lost your phone? No calls, no messages, no connection? That’s even better. I wish that was me. I mean, I wish I was you … or you were me. Or something.
But I keep hearing that the world looks to us—to skateboarding—to say what’s good, what’s bad, and what’s bad-ass. I keep hearing that they’re envious of us. What? They’re envious of us? How? Aren’t we the shitty, the dirty, the poor huddled masses? I mean, I’m envious of you, you’re probably envious of someone else, but how can we all be envious of each other?
I’m envious of the people who aren’t reading this, who aren’t thinking of this, who haven’t just typed “envious” twelve times. It’s ridiculous. My circle is small, I try to keep myself in check, I’ve got good friends, a stable core, good places to skate, I’ve even got family. So why this gross blanket of greed and concern about the other half and how they live—this jump for something more? What’s the antidote to this bug?
Relief is fleeting, but it’s there. Yeah, I’ll shut the fuck up in a second—believe me, I’m envious of you for thinking that before I did. And I know it’s counter to the gnar to say so—silly, sappy, and stupid—but there’s a real break in this envious action when we’re out skateboarding. Fittingly, you can rarely tell it’s happening while it’s happening—like Joni said, you don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone.
It’s there in those lost-in-thought solo sessions or the energetic, hard-laughing, goofy, and even violent times with a few others, when you forget what they got that you don’t, feel the comfort of your feet in your own shoes, and just cruise.
It’d be sweet if they paved paradise, though.
I heard they did that in Sweden or someplace.
Lucky.
Listen to TGP’s playlist: Songs For Problematic Times
