I had grinded (ground?) pipe over to a Communism-themed bar, and I hid my deck in a bush outside the entrance. Came out a few hours later after some fraternal, equally-shared drinks, and the board was gone. Irony of ironies, personal property stolen outside a Communist club--oh well, I hope it's being used for the common good. Mai pen rai.
Last night it seemed like a bigger deal, because I didn't have the distance I have now and also because of the presence of a not insignificant amount of particular depressents floating around in the ol blood-stream.
Now I'm okay. Until I find a really cheap bicycle/replacement skateboard I can get by on walking and cheap taxis. The skateboard was a luxury, really, not a necessity.
Only one thing left to do now: grow out a Devendra Banhart beard, pump some old-school Tom Waits on the Walkman and mope under a street lamp. Catch you on the Heart of Saturday Night, little things.