Tag: graffiti

Categories
Dream Journal

Empty Apartment Rooms & Old Hostel

My dad has a very late in life baby who’s still small named Rubor. Sometimes it’s spelled with an eñe over the b, a highly unusual accent.

The two front rooms of our apartment have been emptied and I can spread out stuff on the floors, reusing the space for something totally new. The rooms seem much bigger — they *are* much bigger I think. But it’s still creepy to have everything gone, though.

I’m back to my original paid-job hostel, a flat-fronted shack (possibly made from shipping containers and roll-up doors) with graffiti covering the windows. Being here finally reminds me of a girl who loved me, who I simply forgot about. Somehow my time with her just never was revisited, her story never came up again.

Categories
Dream Journal

Different Kind of European City

I’m traveling Europe with a friend. I’m drinking good beer from a very thin silver can. It’s from Crate and Barrel and its embossed. I attend an outdoor concert from one of the Balkan bands I used to listen to in the early 2000s. The crowd, mostly male, does a wave of the song “Kassaka”. The concert is over and we leave, paying for some poles but not the beer. We carry our bags of clothes on rafts through a canal. I see maintenance workers on an encased rock. A pair of exhausted teenagers swims up and wants to use one of our boats to rest on.

The city turns out to be Paris. I visit what’s supposed to be CCSF Paris, with a big red heart, but it’s just a site under some freeway overpasses on the outskirts. People are looking at faded but stunningly large graffiti and there’s light pouring in from above. I think I’ve lost two rings in the canal swim, but then I find them on the ground, bent and crushed. I also pick up.a watch band.

I’m nursing Chris’ dick back to health. I’m reassured, as I empty both mine and his, that they’re about the same size. His seems whiter and cleaner though. I think about testing whether it’s more sensitive, but decide masturbating with it would be uncouth.

I saw Steen across the street from my house getting into a convertible to drive away. I stopped getting in my car and came up to say hi. I told him I lived across the street, he asked “oh, in Pete’s old place?”

Categories
Glot

These Are the Graffiti in My Neighborhood

Mission District, San Francisco (by Soaked In Sin)It’s hard to write about one’s urge to make graffiti and do it in a non-incriminating manner. So what the hell; I won’t.

It calls to me. I have a roll of sticker labels, and a neighborhood crawling with/calling for graffiti. Funny story, there. Lynae tells me this: there’s a guy, one guy, who, after getting off his work in the afternoon, drives around the Mission noting all the graffiti he sees. He then gives his list to a Graffiti Task Force Officer (or whatever they’re called), whom I shall henceforth refer to as GTFO. This GTFO takes the list, looks up each property owner, and tapes up the neighborhood equivalent of a Cease and Desist letter to their building. The guy who drives around has gotten so popular there’s even graffiti of him (pictured at right). Going into Surgery on the Streets (by Orin Optiglot)Nice touch, huh?

Here’s another funny thing: the definition of graffiti, as stated on the GTFO letter, is that it’s non-consensual. Without consent of the property owner, that which is painted, affixed, engraved, assembled, or sautéed in garlic butter with minced figs and within the public viewpoint is considered graffiti. It then becomes the responsibility of the property owner to get rid of it within 30 days. Here’s an odd observation, property owners: why not just say yes? If graffiti is stuff on your stuff without permission, give permission for your stuff. No more paint to buy—and no more frustration when the damned things got more scrawl on it the next morning. I’m just saying.

I’m just saying that if more stuff starts showing up that actually comments on the existing graffiti, don’t be surprised. If you’re not part of the problem you’re part of the solution. Or something.

By the way, anybody besides my dad even notice that I haven’t really come close to my goal of 25,000 words this month? Anyone?