the bastard is givin that stuff out to ALL. those graffiti guys

…or



…things the bastard liked about 5pointz


…and






…THING the bastard DIDN'T like about 5pointz

so on Friday night,

the wife days to me, "bastard, you like teh graffiti, yes?"

"why yes wife… I likes teh graffiti"

so she schemes to me on having us walk up to the graffiti installation known as 5pointz which is STUPID touristy these days but the bastard has accepted this as a known quantity.

that way, I can digest the bullshit well enough.





so I agree and we take the family up there. the boy hasn't seen reasonable tagging since we were at the river wall in at Louis in 2009 and we were much more preoccupied with eating cold Arthur Bryants at the time.

so we headed up.

and while at first blush a family of four with a stroller looked out of place at an abandoned building covered in some fair to excellent work, the bastard has to say that he was a fucking breath of fresh (F-R-E-S-H. fresh fresh fresh fresh fresh) air compared to the pack of wild kuwaii girls and there attempts at myspace style self portraiture in front of the graffiti.

a breath of fresh air compared to the eurotrash who asked my son to get out of the way of "thaa peece" he wanted to photograph.



and a goddam sight better than the black turtleneck crowd who ogled the same stuff they scorned 10 years ago when this stuff was the symbol of urban blight rather than that of urban renewal.

but what took the cake for me was this…

a monster truck pulls up the block

with the monster logo on it and a bunch of chuckleheads swarm upon the place in monster energy drink shirts on.

and a couple walk by and the man says to the woman , "the attention to detail is incredible".

"yeah", she concurs and then I kind of went back in time for a second.

I was at the Greene street gallery with art school and we're looking at a crappy sculpture of an apple core made of plaster and the guy in the black turtleneck leans over to the girl half his age and says in a throaty voice, "it's so dynamic. it's very indicative of the fall of man."

meanwhile back in 2011, the bastard is getting a laugh at how all of these white folk who would have never given this a second thought 10-15 years ago sees this stuff I grew up around as full of attention to detail.

don't get me wrong, it was some dope looking examples of wild stour circa the mid to late 80's and definitely more evolved but I would never quote anything out of artspeak to elevate it to anything more than what it is…

graffiti.

and I wouldn't paint three murals for any of the ass this guy was trying to pull down. unless you like that sort of thing.

oh well, it was still good to look at and I made burgers later on.

—the bastard

countdown…

t minus… who the hell even knows.

regularly, the wife im's me with some new fresh hell that cokes attached to the home buying process.

the mortgage broker is wound up all kinds of tight.

too tight for her taste. and we're both tightly wound.

but it's like the death of a thousand cuts except they remove information from the flesh of our paperwork and them come back with questions.

apparently because my evil ant overlords have changed payroll companies two or three times, he cannot divine that I have held down this job since 2002.

umm your husband has been part of evil ant publishing since 2009.

between the understanding gap and the tense, it isn't what a bastard could call fun.

don't get me wrong.

the ends totally justify the means, it's just short term annoying.

…end rant here…

—the bastard

palpable…

the bastard felt the wind go out of his sails today.

we had to bring the price down a hair today. only a hair but, every inch you give away feels like a yard of ground you're losing.

I want to move back across the river so much I can taste it.

don't get me wrong, I like it fine in manhattan.

10 minute walk to work.

shit is open all the time.

access.

access.

access.

but I look forward to seeing the sun go down over the gantries.

having a place that's not her's or mine but our's.

the sort ride to work don't hurt either.

—the bastard

...on habits

the bastard is beginning to think that his robot problem may be getting out of hand.

—the bastard

...on side projects

so, there has been a bit of a dearth of content these days.

the bastard and his not so merry band of magazine peeps were engaging in the yearly awfulness of producing the gun show daily.

sent the last of those pages this evening and with that poured out some whiskey to the crew with much thanks.

but what about the nighttime bastard?

you gettin lazy on us?

well young shiteyes, lemme tell you about my reoccuring ailment

robots.

yes robots are strong.

and when they get they claws on you, there's no breaking free.

I first started putting these things pictured in junior high school when a kid named Raymond hooked me on the otaku.

and I built until I discovered girls.

then I started again to divert myself from my inability to find work after college.

and now after the the bastard told the trustie about them and he got hooked.

so he bought me one for christmas.

excuse me.

the "holidays".

and it went so well, I think I might futz with it some more.

currently, the bastard has a munny from kid robot that my dear friend heavy metal acquired for me from the designer ( thanx so much h.m.)

and now the bastard gets to play with a new medium.

looking forward to it.

I'm never gettng this time back anyway.

—the bastard