I hadn't seen the powerslider in a while, but I consider him a homie, which begs the questions, how does one define a homie? I propose here that slams define that status. Witness a true slam, not just a fall, not a buttslide across smooth ground, but the kind of biannual event that marks true suffering; this shared experience is what defines a homie. My powersliding homie is a perfect example: we always skated a lot under the bridge, but he saw me take a full body slam a few months back. Video replays don't count. Ultimately, there are other bonds that skateboarding creates, but the vicarious slam, the kind that is so hard that no one laughs when it happens, is my opinion the most profound bonding that we share. Think back: how many specific slams can you remember of each of your homies? Anyone over a four slam history is basically a blood brother.
In other good news, my fami mart homie is back. He is an old pot bellied southern taiwanese dude who works nightshift at fami (which, by the way, is at the top of the conveience store list; it goes, fami, 7, independant, ok, and maybe something I'm forgetting). This particular fami is always my last stop on the way home, so he usually seems me after a handful of beers, but is immaculately polite, taking my money with both hands, and giving me my receipt with both. He is hopelessly incompetent, and somehow manages to maintain a line of half a dozen people, late into the night. He disappeared for a few weeks, and I assumed that he had been fired: this kind of shit is totally normal in America, but in Taiwan, well, this is the only person I know who fucks up so badly at work. Because he is so friendly and old and gracious to me, I was really worried about him. He was back tonight. I am relieved. There is no reason that someone his age would be working in a Taipei fami on the nightshift without a goddam good reason.
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