dedleg.com

You know it’s cold when steel starts cracking. Good thing Spring appears to finally be on its way, this shit was getting ridiculous.

I shattered a base plate trying to punch out half a kingpin a couple times, but never managed to while actually skating before. In fact, when I landed and the hanger went flying out from under my board, at first I figured I had just broken a kingpin. That would have been pretty routine, actually.

You see, I have something of a reputation for destroying kingpins as it is — grade 8 bolts everywhere fear my very name. It’s become less of a problem as I slowly got less horrible at skating. But there was a period of time when I was cracking them in half so often I ended up just buying the right size bolt at Home Depot in bulk — something I recommend anyway, since they’re like 30 cents a piece there and you can get aircraft grade steel, which should be able to withstand even the sloppiest, toe-draggingest of landings. And when you smash down frontside pop shove its like I do, only aircraft grade steel will do.

It’s a commonly-known law of physics that skateboards are chemically attracted to water. And during the 11 and a half month long winter in Chicago, where water in both its solid and liquid forms is quite prevalent, that can be a problem for those of us who treat skateboarding as more than just a seasonal activity, but a lifelong quest to remain a Toys ‘R’ Us kid.

But, as with most things in life, you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re afraid to get your feet wet. You don’t have to love skateboarding in the slop, slush and salt, but you do have to love skateboarding enough to keep skating in the slop, slush and salt.

Skateboards are meant to be broken — it’s their ultimate purpose. Whether it’s a poorly-landed heelflip, or rust and water damage that finally does it is not important. What is important is that you don’t let the winter break skateboarding for you.

If Chicago is hell (and it very well could be), then it has officially frozen over.

I thought the lake looked eerily foreign the last time I went over there, but as the weeks passed and winter showed no sign of relenting, the beach practically turned into a replica of Pluto. And that’s kind of cool, since I heard it’s really expensive to go vacationing there this time of year.

I ran into a longtime Chicago resident out there who said he hasn’t seen the lake this iced over since the mid 80s. WTF global warming amiright lolol

Indeed, the lake is downright arctic right now. And about as dangerous as an expedition to the real thing, too. Its frozen depths nearly claimed my real dedleg right here.

Check out how far past the piers the snow and ice stretch — most of the year that’s all liquid water. Both of these shots were taken considerably past the shore. There is no sand underneath all that ice — just a frigid, watery grave. In some spots the ice is thicker than a concrete wall, and three steps later it’s far too thin to support any weight. As you just saw I was lucky enough to discover that first hand.

As I’ve already noted… the terrain out there was fucking treacherous. Coming down a frozen hill, I had to go into a controlled slide. All my survival training is finally paying off. I decided not to include any photos of me drinking my own urine or eating maggots I found in a rotting polar bear carcass, but I’m good at that shit too. 

This pile of metal… shit had been almost completely consumed by snow. The waves that normally crash against it all day slowly built up, freezing and thawing and freezing again, until it resembled a set piece from fucking Hoth. Fortunately, there were no Bantha sightings.

The East Coast might be getting all the blizzards this year, but Chicago’s winters are never to be outdone. There might not be 20 inches of snow on the ground in the middle of the city, but it’s been cold enough to freeze a lake nearly the size of West Virginia. Which is just a few notches below “cold enough to freeze your boogers,” for anybody out there who wants to get technical.

I don’t know about everybody else, but I’m running from this week as fast as fucking possible… which involves not running at all, but sitting relatively still inside a moving vehicle.

And we’re going now / ‘Cause, hey this is it / This is where we are / Out here where silence is / Seventy miles an hour, windows up tight / And I am home 

This song more than earned its spot on my award winning Pissed Off At The World: The High School Years mixtape. Although, in retrospect, my high school years contained remarkably little that warranted being so pissed off about. Nonetheless, posting this seemed appropriate, even if it’s going to be far from a crowd pleaser. But that’s what it is to be emo, after all — friendless, and deservedly so. 

Welcome to the end of the world.

Just kidding, it’s only my old friend Foster Beach again.

I once read a quote about photography to the effect of “if you look into the viewfinder and see something you’ve seen before, then don’t click the shutter.” I’m paraphrasing, and I don’t remember who it was that originally coined that bit of wisdom, but I found it pretty impacting (although I guess not quite enough to actually remember anything specific about it).

Whether or not I always follow that advice is a separate issue altogether, but I try to keep it in mind since, shit, it can’t hurt. And on this particular day, I think I almost hit it. Although I’ve been to this spot so many times before, this time it looked otherworldly. And I hope the photos capture that… it’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

Okay, so those aren’t quite the natural colors of this scene. However, it was dreary, cold, desolate, and… you know…

And yeah, I’d say these are really more indigo than blue if you want to get technical, but how about you just go to hell instead?

It seems I’ve got rain on the mind this week… which is weird since it’s actually been too cold for it to rain for well over a month now. It crept just above freezing yesterday though so, like, put the gun back in the drawer, lil’ guy!

Anyway, it’s dumb to complain about the weather, so I apologize — it is winter, after all, and there ain’t shit we can do about the temperature until stupid global warming finally gets the memo that it actually does exist. Until then, I believe the recommended treatment is usually described with the medical term “binging.”

Pointless FYI: the sort of “glow” coming off the bus in that photo is due to the very technologically sophisticated waterproof case surrounding the camera. If you’re into photography and want to be able to shoot in the rain and snow with relative ease, definitely consider picking one up. They look something like this:

Also — and this is a practically unrelated question considering you can barely see the street in that photo — how is it that Chicago has some of the highest taxes in the entire country and all the streets look like they were hit with an aerial bombing? Or is this just skate-stopping 2.0?

Between the frozen tundra this place becomes in the Winter and everything else that sucks about this city (i.e. almost everything), it’s amazing to me that it’s the 3^rd biggest in the country. Sure is a great town to get shitfaced and fight over sports in though.

There’s no point in owning any clothing that can be worn exclusively in the Fall if you live in Chicago. Our Fall is what most New Yorkers would consider Winter, and our Winter is what most people would consider “Hell freezing over.” I guess it would be nice if you were, like, a Yeti… but I sincerely doubt that you are.