If I was a real man, I’d be out there taming the Florida frontier every day, tearing down forests and building McMansions. But instead, I’m in a nice air-conditioned building processing applications and forms. If I was a real man, I guess I’d be utilizing great math skills (which I don’t have) or exploiting vulnerable people.



I’m putting up my stickers again. When I first moved to Florida, I didn't think I would be able to place my stickers effectively. Back in DC, there were plenty of places to slap stickers where masses of people would see them. There are so many people on foot - when you're on foot, you notice a sticker stuck on a newspaper box or stuck to the back of a sign or on the back of a subway seat or on a pay phone. But in Florida, everybody drives (fast). For a more subtle graffiti form like mine, there aren’t as many opportune spots to slap up a sticker - where somebody will actually see it, that is. I thought and thought about it and . . . EUREKA: gas stations. High traffic. Captive audience. I slap them right on the pump or on a trash can. Those fools gotta see them. I’m back in business! And as goofy as all this horseshit sounds - I feel like I am dealing in The Meaning again. (I’ve also been posting these little blue cop men in different places. hee hee hee)

I saw a documentary about graffiti artists recently, and there was this one guy who spray painted his whole life story on the inside of a subway tube - New York I think. He had a workman’s outfit for his disguise - so he looked like he belonged down there. He would spray a huge white rectangle on the wall - a blank page - and then he’d write on that - everything from his whole life - page after page. But nobody saw it . . . except . . . the cops (who eventually caught him). . . and the other workers. I find that incalculably noble. But I gotta get my stuff out there where it can be seen. I just gotta. Not all splashy and high profile like spray painters . . . subtle, but seen.

You should read/watch/listen to this: GRAFFITI RESEARCH LAB