RTD

Super duty tough work – circa late 80s early 90s – los angeles

We used to run toward the lumbering rolling beasts. Run to them like wild dogs, Savage mongrels after prey.

The smell of the city, thick and sticky, brings me back.

There we are now dodging traffic across eight lanes. An adrenaline fueled mad-dash. We run to them and rock the casbah. One after the other. and on and on.

Blurs of action in my peripheral, 

Layers of multicolored movements all around.

I know the guy to my left and the other to my right like I know the others running around the beast. I know the one on the front of it, the one who is face to face with the beast’s conductor.

And there they are, arms flailing and spiraling in def maneuvers, there we all are.

I see the surface, and can feel its dust on my palms as I make wide interlocking spirals, conjuring up the old school gods.

I see the others, ghostly yet as solid as the meanstreak I’m holding. Their backpacks and baseball caps. The rail thin kids wrapped in extra large clothing, agitated and in full action.

Each one packing multicolor technicolor hunting spears for the beast.

Oh it’s on! 

driver side

all windows

Grill

And

Windshield

destination

Insides

black box

Rooftop

bumpers

body rock

Scribes

Meanstreaks

Uni wides, poscas

Sakuras

Krylons

Rustoleums

Testors

Pilots

China markers

Homemades

Deodorant case with school eraser

elmer glue mixed with paints…

The beast hisses and kicks up the gritty city dust when it arrives, It radiates heat and the idle rumble gives the illusion of a mechanical grumble coming deep from within its body. The beast carries a scent along, of rubber, fuel, and human funk.

and the adrenaline rush was the addiction. super duty tough work wild style inscriptions.

11/97 – 11/24

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