Still Pushing

This is who I am, what I was born to do

Playing in the streets. Photo: Ryan Sherman

Post summary

• Welcome to the official launch of My Substack. This is my first post in my Notebook, a place for miscellaneous journal entries, archival posts, short stories, poems, articles, etc.

• I wrote this short article/journal entry (below) about a recent visit to Southern California, where after several years of my skating taking a backseat to music projects, I got back on my board in a profound way.

• Listen to the Audio Companion to this post here!

Some quick groundskeeping…

• Watch my Welcome Video here, and check out these previous posts:

  Happy which is about this new season of my life.

  Roads and Resolutions which documents my final tour with Black Flag.

• This post is FREE for now, but starting April 21st, posts like this will only be available to Members. Please consider joining and participating in our community by becoming a Member. Membership gives you full access to every post, including playback of my weekly live show Still Pushing, which premieres this Thursday at 3:00 p.m. ET.

• Other ways to support

  Bandcamp

  Powell•Peralta

  Cariuma

  Socco

  GORUCK

Still Pushing

It’s a perfect Southern California day—the streets shine in the sun. I grab my skateboard and with a running start throw it down onto the pavement—urethane meets asphalt—my feet meet the board. I push across intersections, up and down sidewalks, through alleyways and parking lots. Cameras focus in. I dreamed all of this so long ago—only the styles of the passing cars, the drone swarming overhead, and the helmet I’m wearing signal the passing of time. This is who I am, what I was born to do—I’m still dreaming.

Tommy gives me the thumbs up, and I take off. It’s a simple thing, pushing a skateboard—a necessary first step, but one that so awed me when I started out that I have lingered long in its ecstasy. It is an art form all its own—one I have never taken for granted. My wheels sing up the middle of the street—each kick propelling me forward—I’m still awed.

I see Brodee in front of his house with his dad. I catch their eyes, and we share a smile. Next, I’m on their front lawn—we’re shaking hands. Brodee grabs his skateboard from inside the house. I jump on his mini-sized board and do a street plant—Brodee gasps—Wow! This—this, playing in the streets, was my first love—my calling. And so, popularizing, sharing and promoting street skating was my obligation—the aim of my professional career. Brodee’s mom comes out and takes photos of Brodee, his dad, and me posing with our boards. After more handshakes, I skate back to the starting point filled with gratitude. I’m still out here—I’m still playing.

Ryan pilots the birds-eye-view overhead. Tommy changes angles to catch glimpses of me passing between parked cars, while Jameson directs from the sidewalk. They tell me to go down as far as the end of the block then turn back around and do it again. On go, I explode out of the gate—away from Tommy’s camera, clear of the whirl of the drone, past Brodee’s house and beyond the end of the block. I keep going—I keep pushing—I keep pushing. I’m still pushing.

Thanks for reading!