APB-sides: part 4.

As far as John Oliveira is concerned on these pages, I've already gone into some seriously deep emotional detail regarding my favorite local skateboarder, so I'll spare you. Kind of. One might even gather that I'm totally gay for John by the way I gush (no homo) about him so much and speak so highly of all of his exploits, on and off board. Don't get me wrong, I do fully love me some John, how could I not? We're both from Aiea. Halawa Heights, son! That alone solidifies his status as down for life right there. There's definitely something about Johnny, boys and girls of all ages love the Silent one. When I was writing the team profiles, I wanted to incorporate the Candybandit angle into John's, but I wasn't really sure how to do it. Then I remembered knife arm!


This is John doing a John trick. He's got several.


One time we had pancakes, John likes the sizzurp.


Johnny is a media star, be it in print like this photo from Transworld, or on camera in any number of skateboard videos. His section in The Struggle is a recent fan favorite for sure, and his appearance in Sean Reilly's Brokeback Skateboarding was nothing short of mesmerizing.

It's been super rad lately to see the evolving of John. He's not just a skate rat anymore. He's stepping out on the town these days, even in the company of ladies. He has a few drinks, he's a man of the world now.

I'm sure he hates this piece, but tough shit, here it is:

John Oliveira:

It was pouring rain and he was running down the street barefoot. His feet hurt something awful, and he thought that there may have been blood on his hands as well, but John had no time to stop and look. As he sprinted across the busy road against the light, his right foot stepped directly into a large pothole that had no doubt doubled in size since the unusually heavy rains had started nearly a month earlier. John went down hard, and the way his ankle twisted a normal human would have screamed out in agonizing pain and been immobilized immediately. However, he was not normal. John was about as far away from normal as a person could be, and it was this that saved him from becoming a hood ornament at that very moment.

The driver of the silver Lexus two door sedan could barely see through his windshield wipers, they were operating at their highest speed but it was still difficult to make out what was even five feet in front of him. As soon as John hit the ground he saw the headlights approaching fast and reacted. He did a one-armed push up right into a spinning barrel roll, a move that he had never done before. The car seemed to be moving in slow motion as he expertly executed this strange life-saving maneuver, and he avoided the Lexus with incredible ease. “Whoa“, he thought to himself in mid-flight. “Is this really happening? I’m not dreaming, am I? Is this some kind of Matrix type shit or what?”

As he landed on his bare feet safely out of harm’s way, John whipped around and quickly looked up and down the street. He needed to find something familiar, a landmark, a street sign, anything to help him identify where in the hell he was at this moment so that he could negotiate his way home and make his escape.. Nothing stood out to him, he was completely lost. Again. It seemed like only a week or so had passed since the last time, that horrible time that John swore would be the last. Unavoidably, it was always like this, and John could do nothing about it. He tried in vain to ignore the voice in his head that drove him, but the voice was determined. Determined to own him. Determined to rule him.

John kept running, he knew he had to get as far away from this area as he could or he would surely be caught this time. Nearly out of breath and close to total exhaustion, he finally made his way to a church, or a school, he couldn’t tell, and he didn’t really care at this point . It was dark and off of the main road, and that was all that he cared about now. He passed what he thought was a cafeteria or something and found himself at a waist high drinking fountain. “Ahhhh…at last …” the voice in his head sounded relieved.

John stood for nearly thirty seconds staring at the water fountain dumbfounded until the voice spoke up again. “Well, don’t just stand there, stupid. Wash your hands!” The voice was practically scolding him. John looked at his bloody hands, there was definitely something weird going on here. First of all, his hands didn’t hurt at all. No pain whatsoever, but they were bloody as hell, and from the looks of it, it wasn’t his blood either. John turned on the fountain by pushing the handle with his knee and began furiously washing his hands. As he desperately scrubbed his palms together under the water the voice in his head spoke again. “Yes, good, John! Veeeery good…that’s it! Get that bitches blood off of you! Hurry up! You don’t have much time…”

John finished washing his hands, and he looked down and noticed that they were not scratched or cut in any way whatsoever . It was like déjà vu all over again. “How many times has this happened before?” John asked himself. “I know what you mean, John…” The voice in his head answered almost on cue. “In all this excitement I kind of lost track myself.” John didn’t want to believe that it was going down this way again, but there was no denying it.

“It’s not like it matters anyway, John. The police have no idea… you know that, right?” The voice continued. “How do you know? How could you possibly have any idea what the police know or don’t know???” John asked in an uneasy tone that unintentionally betrayed just how scared he was at that very moment. “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…” the voice replied. “NO ONE has any idea. They don’t have a clue. How could they know? You and I are way too smart for that, John. Surely you must realize this by now…” the voice got eerier with each word, but John tried his best to compose himself. “What are you talking about?” John asked the voice. “You’re the smart one…I never have any idea what’s going on! I don’t know what I’m doing! YOUR voice guides ME! I don’t even want to hurt people, let alone kill them!” he added. The voice could only laugh now, and the sound of it’s cackle instantly made John nearly sick to his stomach. “John…what in god’s name are you talking about? I AM YOU…and you are me. My bloodlust is yours, and your murderous desire is mine…you’ve always known this to be true.” John shook his head as he responded. “No….that’s not the way it is. You’re not real…you’re imaginary. You’re a figment of my imagination…”

As much as he desperately wanted to believe the words that he spoke, John knew deep down inside that they simply were just not true. Knife Arm WAS real. Knife Arm WAS NOT imaginary, and Knife Arm definitely WAS NOT a figment of his imagination. The siren that now blared in the distance wasn‘t in his head either, and John could hear it getting closer. He didn’t need the voice to tell him what to do now. It was time to run. Again.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Live at the Blaisdell.

When I think about the Blaisdell Arena right here in lovely Honolulu, Hawaii, the first thing that comes to my mind is HEAVY METAL PARKING LOT!

I've seen some legendary shit at the Blaisdell, I'm talking like groups ranging from Iron Maiden, Def Leppard, and Ozzy, to Aerosmith, Metallica, and Soundgarden, I mean just a whole bunch of crazy arena rock went down there and the scene was always the same before the show. Just like the Heavy Metal Parking Lot video, (if you haven't seen it, pleeeaaaase click on that link up there and watch that shit, it's mesmerizing)there would always be a gang of rocker dudes in denim and leather and hella metal sluts in spandex roaming around drinking hards and beers and always smoking tons, and I mean TONS of weed, and blasting some serious headbanger shit on their car stereos. Every single concert you could count on a full blown party scene in the hours before the show, and I don't know what the fuck that has to do with the recent Big Boys Toys Expo that went down during the last weekend of March here in town at the Blaisdell, but I can assure you it was always awesome.

Well, anyway this Big Boys Toy expo thingy was technically held at the Blaisdell Exhibition Hall right in between the arena and the concert hall that everyone skates. Speaking of skating, there was an awesome, and by awesome I mean fucking AWESOME mini-ramp built just for the show over the weekend, and we went down there to skate it and hang out at the booths of our homies from APB, Fitted, and Poetree. Oh, and Christian Hosoi was there. Kind of a big deal!


You know if Gary's deejaying, the shit is going to be out of contrizzol! RHPS always represents lovely.


Shit was getting drilled.


Chad was breaking in the new guy. Whattup, Conor! Love this kid already.


APB and Fitted shared a booth right in between Heavywater Mag and Poetree. Chad had a bunch of product for sale, including his newest t-shirt design, which might be one of his best ones yet. See it?


Here, get a good look, drop to your knees.

By the way, this shirt was Chad's genius way of telling me that he's sick of having his photo on the Internet, more specifically his mug on this blog piece of shit right here.

Inspired by the taser guy from Florida, this t-shirt also happens to be a APB/Hirollingmedia.com collabo and it's on sale right now down at APB, don't you want one? Don't you want to let us know that you're sick of this shit and sick of blogs in general? Make a statement!


Anyway, the ramp was getting mopped because it was hella slippery.


So we walked around the show to kill some time. There was a pitbull kennel right next to where the ramp was.


These dogs ain't fucking around.


I mean they're on some ruff shit!


Like some pull 5000 pounds and up type of shit.


Keeping it CHEE PONO!


This dog is Diesel! Seriously, that's his name. Probably pull you and your whole family down the street and not even blink.


All the peoples that were in the ramp area posted up together.


ZZ Top type of shit.


Sick Jag.


On some Tom Slick shit. Not the A'ala Park bum, the cartoon, stupid.


Pretty gangsta.


These guys were all about customizing your shit.


With shit.


Might as well pimp your golf cart too.


Ludicrous bike.


And another.


This comic book shit is getting out of contol.


Even Green Goblin was up in that shit.


Mud Light!


Bitchin' Camaro.


Manly shit.


You know karate? Well, I know CARAZY.


These dudes were totally serious.


If they sold one of these all weekend, I'd be fucking amazed.


They should have listened to this dude.


Doc Peezy stoner type shit.


The tenth-grader in me was loving this shit.


Aaron is almost foxier than this chick.


The ill Bug shit!


While the ramp was being finished up, Chad stickered up.


Ready for some action.


Get your grub on.


Oasis dudes repped the Big Island.


They got planks and stuff.

Okay, so I was chillin' and whatnot, pounding down hella Vitamin Waters because that shit was free all weekend, and I had heard that Hosoi was in town for some demo/church service something or other at the Hickam Hangar and maybe he was going to be at the show during the weekend. Well, it was true, the man himself was spotted in the building, and pretty much as soon as the ramp was completed with its finishing touches, he got up on the deck. I immediately started fanning out and sniping hella shots of him just standing there. What? It's Christian fucking Hosoi. Fuck off!


Well, I'd rather watch Holmes stand on the deck of a ramp than watch about 75 percent of the video parts out there in skateboarding today.


More style in his fucking pinkie toe than, say, the entire Baker team.


If Christian is Christ, then Ivan is God. Hartsel with pops Hosoi.


And of course Jef and the man Holmes himself go back like pool chairs. Venice locs back in the day.


Hands down, without question, the coolest skater-friendly security guard in the short history of skater-friendly security guards. This dude has been working at the Blaisdell for like 35 years or some shit. He's busted everyone in town for skating at the concert hall, but he's always super nice and he even tells you when the best times are to come back when he's not there. He even made a cameo in the second APB video, lower case. He fake tackled Alex Ly on the steps of the concert hall and was a champ about it. In fact, Chad even hooked him up with a copy of The Struggle DVD so that he could watch himself in action in the bonus features. Braddah was stoked!


Kenny Brimer: superstar!


Dude signs autographs now.


Dude even has a camera now with a cute little lens. Welcome to the media, Blazer.


Too late, Aaron Lee! You're fucking blogged for life!


Westsiiiiide was in the house. Guess which one of these dudes has a video part on YouTube of him skating to Eye Of the Tiger. You have a fifty percent chance. Can't imagine it? Give up? Okay, okay. It's him.


Another ludicrous motorcycle.


Best t-shirt of the weekend, 4th runner-up.


Dopest shirt of the weekend, 3rd runner-up.


Coolest t-shirt of the weekend, 2nd runner-up, two times.


Okay, raddest t-shirt of the weekend? Found it! Jose', you're the winner.


Kenny says congratulations.


Cover band kinda killed it!

WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE, you're probably saying to yourself by now.
Wasn't there a goddamned ramp in the fucking building?
Didn't anyone skate it?
Where are the action photos already???

There are plenty of those.
Right here!
Some are from Friday night, when the extentions didn't have coping on them, or a deck to stand on for that matter.
The decks and coping for the extension got done on Saturday, but there was a heated session Friday night with no deck or coping on that section.
Saturday was crazed, full blown snake session from hell, but what do you expect?
Sunday I didn't go but heard it was way mellow and not as crowded.
I took most of these pictures, but Mako took some and I think Hesham might have taken the ones of Cuzzo, I'm not sure, but here's the cornucopia of action shots.


I'm still giving the finger after all these years, I dunno the shit just comes out, I can't control it.


I lipslid up the extension with no deck or coping, big fat fucking whoop.


Think I give a fuck about a frontside rock? Sometimes I give myself the thumbs down when I'm not sticking middle finger.


This dude is the Frank Lucas of the Hawaiian hat game.


And Cuzzo's crooked grind is in color too, if you missed it the first time.


Rene fucking Matthyssen kills it to this day. Next time you're over at Fitted copping that tight custom New Era hat piece, tell 'em that you seen Cuzzo killing it on the hirolling blogspot, and support their shit. Fuck a corporate mall hat shithole!


Little rats were doing ollies and shit off the extension. Damn!


Harts was like "Yo, I'm feeling your setup, Holmes!" I think it looks like he's feeling it anyway.


Kele Rosecrans did some wild maneuvers like this crazy varial spin to backside D.


Ken McGuire was in the Speed Freaks video! Now that is some legend type shit right there. Respect! Dude is fucking cool as hell and still kills it.


Not the greatest photo, but it's a Hosoi ollie!


Chris Kays killed the ramp all weekend. Duh. Here's a kickflip to rock fakie.


Holmes kicks out a one foot to backside disaster, steez dripping by the bucket.


Christian Hawaii Five-O's to fakie with ease.


Even though he "only" went to backside disaster after this vicious method, this may be one of theeee raddest photographs I have ever taken.


You don't think John Collins was psyched to be standing on the deck next to THE man?


John sure skated all weekend long like he was psyched. Blunt fakes with ease.


It ain't a fucking ramp sesh without Kale Sandridge! Obscene stalefish IN YO FACE.


I hereby decree that Ian Okui is the only skater in the state allowed to wear headphones, Skate Nazi has spoken!


Ian nailed this frontside varial spin to lein air off of the extension, by the way.


Cuzzo hung with the Blaze in between crooked grinds and feeble fakies.


Ricky Stiles frontside for miles.


Hey coping, hey deck, get ready for impact.


Honestly, name one guy with more style than this dude.


Forget it, such a person does not exist, and never will.


Well, more Kale is always a good thing.


Slayer shirt! Kale was rocking an Iron Maiden tee the night before. How hard does he rule? Very.


Hartsel doing some custom Poetree stuff in his booth in between killing the ramp.


Kenny was stoked to see his old pal Bo Ikeda back in the swing of things. What's up, Bo! Everyone was super psyched to see you're feeling better, let's go shred when you're not surfing sometime.


Was this board gay enough?


Sean Reilly thought so, and he was absolutely right.

The entire weekend was pretty crazed, I mean how often do you get to session a perfect mini-ramp right here in town, indoors, with all kinds of freaks and weirdos on display with an insane mix of cars, electronics, animals, music, oh...and did I mention skating that indoor perfect mini-ramp with Christian Hosoi?

Fuck yeah I was fanning out.
Shoot me.