I shot this photo when I was on crutches for a couple of months and basically felt like the most useless human on the face of needy planet earth,
And actaully mainly probably because Angela Boatwright had gotten sick of seeing me feeling sorry for myself.
so one day she said "you are shooting andy kessler for mass appeal."
And when I said that I couldn't because I was on crutches and hadn't left Lucy’s in two weeks she told me I was a big giant puss.
I thought to myself "fuckin fuck!"
And she said "you're gunna fuckin do this"
And i was like "fuck! you're right!"
So Tino walked me from Houston to Tompkin's square on my crutches.
And Tino was careful to guide me. I was like glass Joe. he watched out.
When I showed up at the Tompkins Square Andy howled and said "Jesus H!"
He knew that I hadn't done a damn thing in two months and that I was obviously confused and mostly useless.
I couldn’t hold it against him. That’s exactly how I looked. It was glaringly true.
Alain said he'd meter for me. He did.
Tino stopped me from falling over on my face by holding my collar. Crutches are a bitch.
And once Andy piped down he started to believe that I was going to take his photo. Then the bastard hammed up hard. hammed up damn good.
He jawed at everyone except me. it was like it was just us and then a bunch of sour of herbs.
Tino was laughing. Alain was smiling and reaching in and metering and Kess was pumped for a Tompkins’s mug shot.
Aside from all this I knew Andy since I was maybe 19 in Rhode Island.
he was on of the elder statesmen of eastcoast skateboarding that could talk shit to the poeple who, as far as i knew, no one could say a word to.
and when he did it they all laughed at his bastard genious and gleefully took it in the belly as fast as he could dish it.
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when i first got to nyc i told him i had known him from his visits to rhode island and he looked at me and said "ahhh christ no".
i tried to explain how i had met him years before.
when it finally made sense to him he spit from the side of his mouth "yeesh. another one" and then was off pointing some one elses flaws out.
he did this with a raging giggle.
he was a man i'd gladly except sarcasm from at whatever rate he could hand it out.
i spoke to my friend who met him probably when i first did, earlier tonight.
and i said "hey sometimes bad luck is really nowhere close to good."
to that he replied "i dont think i have ever had good luck"
i said " good luck is being assed out again and again and having a guy like andy picking your phone call up willing to run with you. good luck is having good friends"
he said "i have the best friends"
good luck is having someone that will look out for you.
andy died, randomy as it was, helping someone that he could have easily given up on. over and over and over. and most people did. but he gave the effort.
we are damn lucky to have our friends. lottery tickets wont ever tell us a thing. our hugs tell us all we need to hear.
hug the people that have your back next time you see them.
andy would call you a pussy if he saw you do it and then let in on you about how you have dumb shoes. but thats why you'd want to hug him.
he was definetly a good one.