 You know what rhymes with lobster? Pussy. That’s what I am when it comes to heights. Take me 10 feet off the ground and I start to freak the hell out. Every time I clean my gutters I basically assume that is the day I will be falling off the roof and snapping my neck. Once I went on a ride called Freefall at Great Adventure where it takes you up 50 or 1000 feet and then drops you straight down. I cried the entire time. Heights are gay. I have everything I need right here on ground level. Birds, clouds, tree limbs, high-tension towers can all kiss my ass. I am not down with your scene up there.
But I’m also tough. GRRRR! A real tough guy. When people challenge my toughness, I get extra tough. SUPER TOUGH, in fact. (That was sarcasm.) Last Saturday, May 12th when my book party at KCDC Skateshop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn rolled around and Amy Gunther (owner of KCDC) said, “Nevitt (Amy’s partner) had a great idea, we got an old grandpa’s chair for you to sit in and read.” I was like, “Cool. Where is it?” and when she pointed up to the crow’s nest some 15 feet off the ground. I shit a brick. But I did it TOUGH. So I said, “Oh. Yeah. That’s great. Great idea. I like that. I‘ll be right back.” And I bee lined to the beer table and grabbed a bottle full of the smooth, sexy taste of Colt 45 (they sponsored the party).
For hours I stalled on addressing the unruly crowd that had gathered for the free beer. “When are you going up and reading?” my friends at Vice kept asking me and I just kept pointing to my half full bottle of beer and saying, “Just let me finish this one.” Then I’d slam it and run and get another bottle. I was dreading the entire thing. I didn’t mind the public speaking since I had so many friendly faces there to support me but the dangling on a thread above the earth made me uneasy.
Finally I was ORDERED to get up there and read. So I climbed the ladder skyward. The air got thin. My palms began to moisten. I had no material prepared. I had no intention of reading the book. I figured I’d just bullshit with the people, tell stories and crack jokes but the higher I got the less funny I found everything.
All of my good people at Vice were waiting for me at the top. One person said, “You look pale. Real flushed.” “No, I’m fine,” I said. I took my seat and looked out over the crowd. I don’t know how KCDC did it, but they must have some kind of button that lowers the floor because suddenly I was hundreds of miles above the audience. They looked like ants. A bird flew past me and things got turbulent as I passed through a cloud. I was losing it. Let me get this done quick and get off of here, I said to myself. I said, “Hello,” but the mics didn’t work. WHAT THE HELL! THE MICS DIDN’T WORK! They didn’t work for 5 minutes. And for 5 minutes I starred out at the people below wondering, “Will no one save me? Who of you is strong enough to catch me?”
Then the flashes set in. I’ve had my arguments with the people at Vice, it is natural in any business relationship, but at that moment I started to panic and think, “What if I pissed them off so bad that they planned this so that they can push my chair over the edge and kill me? Was this all a set up?” I looked back over my shoulder at the Vice staff and they all smiled and gave me a parade-wave IN UNISON. Holy shit! They were all in on it. They masterminded this to kill me and create hype around the book to move more units. News at 11: Author falls to his death at his book release party. How ironic. WHY WON'T THE GODDAMN MICS WORK?
 Then one fellow came along and turned the mic switch from off to on. But it was too late. I was done. I had a group of hit men standing behind me waiting to pounce and I needed to find an escape and quick.
I said, “Hello. I’m Chris Nieratko…and I’m an alcoholic.” The crowd erupted in cheer. The sound brought them closer to me and suddenly I didn’t feel as high off the ground. Then I just started feeling awkward. I don’t like the idea of looking down on people. It’s not my style. I’m a man of the people. I need to be eye to eye with folks and talk to them straight. Suddenly I was analyzing everything while waiting for Vice to push me over the edge. I scanned the crowd for smiles. For my wife. For my partner Steve. For my buddy Scott Keating from Nike SB. For Nardelli from 5Boro, for any of my many other friends to reassure me I wasn’t about to die. But the strangers had my friends outnumbered and I finally just said, “Fuck it.” I leaned into the mic and said, “I know most of you only came for the free beer, so drink up and enjoy yourself. Good night.”
With that I sprung from my chair and ran towards the ladder. All of the Vice staff looked at me with hate-filled eyes. I thought it was because I had thwarted their plan to kill me. But it was actually because as I was thanking people in my chair I accidentally forgot to thank Vice. So I’d like to take this moment to formally thank Vice… for not pushing me off the stage to my death.
On a serious note, aside from those 10 minutes of pure hell up there I had the time of my life. I would like to thank everyone at Vice for their hard work in making the party and the book possible. To KCDC for allowing us to soil their store with our presence. To everyone at Nike SB for coming through in the clutch. To Jeff Regis and everyone at Red Bull. To Colt 45….mmmm, beer. And most importantly to my friends who came out to show love and support. It meant the world to me to have your faces there amongst all the top hats, bed heads and bad steez. I love you all. Good night.
Photos by Bryan Derballa:
Fuck that chair
Alex from Supreme Starks Laces
Billy Dee, Billy Dee
Gabrielle and friend
Gunther the Barbarian
You know... chucka chucka
I heart Mexican tits
I used to be a bartender
Me, Lesley
Moe wants Two of something
Suroosh and Thalia love me
Suroosh loves me
Hippy tits
Photos by Felipe lara:
Nards!
Pensyl
Chicks
CONTEST!
Yippee! It’s contest time. Everyone likes contests, right? Maybe not. Maybe you are so bitter that you are just sitting around waiting to die and can no longer get excited for anything. Or maybe you’ve been looking for a way to turn your life around and what better way to do that than by WINNING SOMETHING FOR FREE! Well, here’s your chance. I’m giving away signed copies of Skinema to the Best naked or semi-naked photo of a girl or someone's girlfriend holding a chrisnieratko.com sign or something that says "SKINEMA" or "CHRIS NIERATKO SUCKS" or you know, something about me that isn’t photoshopped. [transvestites and transsexuals are all ladies to me, so feel free to submit.]
Send the photos to contest@chrisnieratko.com
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