Skidzilla's Weekend Memory

I only got to skate on Saturday. But here's a bit of prose surrounding the event:

“Don’t Skate Angry!” Nikoli screams at me as I pass him. It’s a recurring statement I hear of late. I must be scowling. I’m in the snake run – what’s to be angry about? I’m on the concrete. I’m skating. I’m in the sunshine and hanging with my bros. I’ve got my mind off of life’s woes and on this stupid wooden plank.

Although, I can’t say my mind is on skating. Mostly it is on not falling. “Don’t fall when you carve this six foot wall,’ my mind says. ‘Don’t fall,’ it says as I flirt with the coping – backside or frontside. “Don’t fall,’ it says as I feebly attempt yet another 50-50 in the 8 foot bowl. “Don’t fall,’ it says as I pull a backside transfer over the hip maybe just a little higher than my capabilities should allow. ‘What the fuck are you thinking?!’ It screams as I peer over the 11’ to drop in by the full pipe. I drop anyway. I know it’s not the fall that kills you; it is the sudden stop at the bottom. All I gotta do is stay on. It’s that simple.