Wednesday, November 25, 2009

the end


Friday, November 20, 2009

the drains

"When we get there, we’ll make a circuit around the block to see which houses have lights on, who’s awake and asleep.  Then we’ll park, and once the car stops, no talking, no noises, just get out and get the paint and go.  Once we’re away from the car and into the wash on our way down into the drains, don’t stop for anything.  If someone sees you or someone says something to you, don’t stop.  We’re vulnerable until we get inside the drains.  Once we’re in the drains, no-one will follow us.  There was a guy who shot at a cop and went down into the drains, and it took the cops three hours to even go in there.  So if it’s a cop who sees you outside the drains, run.  Drop everything and run.  Once you get through the mouth of the drains you’re safe.  You can pop out a manhole or keep going down for miles.  But it’s illegal to be holding spray paint inside a wash so don’t stop and chat with anyone."

I stop the car.  The four doors pop open, and then close, I unload the bags from the trunk, Anctious takes the battery pack and we hop the fence, slide down the bank into the wash, and walk north toward the drains.  Now, walking, there’s time to notice the coolness of the air and the clouds in the sky that diffuse the light of the moon. It’s silent except for the treading of our shoes.  On either side of the wash are houses, some with lights that come on automatically as we pass, and now at 10 PM people will still be awake, and if they look out their back doors they’ll see our parade, and if not, they’ll hear the dogs and know we’re here.

One dog yelps at us a few times and then quiets.  Another barks from the other side, and more dogs hear us or catch our smell and join in, but we can see the mouth of the drains, dimly, down there where the sides of the wash rise up into a ceiling and go down under a parking lot and under a shopping mall and on underneath the rest of the city.  At the last house three dogs bark and growl with fierceness that betrays their sixth sense about who is good and who is bad, if you heard these dogs bark you’d say they are convinced we are bad, we are demons and spirits like Mephisto who prowls disguised as a cat, and we, trying to be as quiet as the cat do not escape the notice of the dogs, they know.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Saturday, November 14, 2009