everytime D Jay rapped and Shuga sang. Others may get annoyed at the
movie and the plethora of pimps and hos. I loved the music, the
message, and above all the dream.
I love graffiti. I love it in the way I love tattoos. Its colors. Its
placement. Its voice. Its randomness. Reading Jonathan Lethem made me
love it more. He made me want to be a graffiti artist.
The stars must have aligned or something because it's a series of odd
coincidences that have me blogging about this. Yesterday I stumbled
across a site called Graffiti Archaeology, and the flame was lit again.
Then I noticed the cover story of the style section of today's Post was
on the arrest of the infamous DC graffiti artist, Borf. I'd seen Borf's
work...who could miss the giant tag over the Roosevelt Bridge? I was
never a Borf tracker (though I've found myself inspired to seek out DC's
graffiti marvels for a shoot), but I found myself saddened by his
arrest. Don't get me wrong, I understand the sanctity of private
property, but most of the stuff graffiti artists tag is abandoned, ugly,
what I would call public, etc. Is it fear that drives people to despise
graffiti? Do they associate it with gangs? Fear a 'the wrong element'
is hanging around her neighborhood? Fear the message delivered?
I see graffiti as art. Yes, some may just be someone's initials or some
curse words, but look at the slope of the line, the color chosen. Look
closely...next time you might be seeing my tag.
During the summertime the smells that make up a city are more distinct,
pungent. Walking past McPherson Square on my way to the metro I was hit
by a wall of b.o. and trash. The smells of the homeless that call the
park home are more ripe when it's warm. While people feel free to walk
past the city's homeless easier in the summer because the harsh cold is
gone, they can't escape the smell of humanity. I breathed it in because
I didn't want to harden myself and pretend they are invisible. And, as
the musky smell of unwashed bodies washed over me, I again felt guilty
for not doing enough and for having too much.
**I contributed to the city's stench myself yesterday. I tried out the
'organic' Tom's of Maine deodorant. I wouldn't if I were you...I
smelled musky for most of the afternoon.
How relevant is age? A series of recent events has me wondering if, in
fact, it does have some bearing on one's actions.
It's almost 2am, and I should be in bed now. Instead, I'm laying here
worrying about those close to me. I was going to write a diatribe on
age (see first sentence above) to get back at someone who angered me. I
can't though. I see so much anger and pain in the world, and tonight I
can't contribute to that and possibly make someone else feel bad,
especially if they don't necessarily have the life experiences to have
brought them past that. Instead I'm just going to post some names here
of people who need special thoughts right now (no particular order).
I'm not going to air their business and tell you why (though that would
be more interesting). If you pray, then pray for them. If you don't,
then send them good vibes and karma across the airwaves. (If this is
too cheesy for you, then eff off.)