Being at a loss for words is like being blind in a big open space… For a person of my profession words are so important, we use them everyday, but without calculating their power… Now under the cloak of nightfall, when the edge of distant storms breeze through the floral landscape that I live in… Now is when I need words the most, I’ve been thinking of switching back to a narrative form, but what to narrate, am I old enough to look back on my life, have I experienced enough to reflect on what I have learned so far… Is it memoir time? I’m sure some people will relate but younger people don’t read anymore do they?…
My neighborhood was marked by art work, even the scribbled names and affiliations inspired me as a young child, they inspired me to be artistic and to make my claim… Now what we call Graffiti is pursued by Art Majors, skate boarders and random renegades,I can never give these artists as much credit as I do the writers who I watched as a young kid. Graffiti went hand in hand with hanging on the block, people were given nick names and those people painted them on the wall. They formed crews, the crews engaged in various criminal activities and were considered gangs by the media and authorities… These were not groups that kids sought out, they were attached to neighborhoods and blocks and communities… The people in my crew that are still alive and not in prison, still talk, we celebrate holidays and birthdays together, even though I have moved far from home, but we still try to get together as much as possible and talk about old times… Though these times were hectic and our behavior was reckless and at times suicidal, to say the least, they were the times that made me the man that I am, and the greatest times of my life… Sunset Park Brooklyn…. I couldn’t have chosen a greater neighborhood to be raised in.
RIP… Sniper, Macho, Bubba, Bobby, D.Mo… Free… Trim… Felix… R.C.
See you when I see you Brothers… Till then, I’m gonna win a few Oscars for all of you.
