Herby

Tonight i saw my first original Herby moniker on a train. Im not sure why but it was really sad. I didnt take a picture of it, but i drew a big circle around it so that people will see it and hopefully not paint over it. The date on it was 11/16/89...so he must have been in his early 80's when he did the marking. Something neat about an old man sticking to his hobbies and doing illegal shit in a train yard, hiding from the authorities and ducking the power. I wont live to be that old, but maybe the marks i leave on trains will, and some young post apocalyptic cyber punk will see them and laugh at cats barfing on inverted crosses or whatever i decide to paint.


Also, i was already on every single car in the yard tonight, with marks from 2009. Wonder where theyve been to in the past couple of years. Guess I'm doing something right.


Earl Sweatshirt can rap.

 Waiting around for someone who might never wise up sucks. If they only knew. Come onnnnnnnn.

Compline Service at Christ Church Cathedral has become part of my Sunday routine. Boxcars in the morning, wheaties in the afternoon, Compline at night. It's very dark and ominous, and the incense makes me sneeze. Monks sing songs, and old people look wise.

I start volunteering as a 'Vision Mate' with the Canadian National Institute for the Blind. I get to read books to visually impaired folks on Friday and Saturday nights. Psyched. Still no luck volunteering with seniors. Every volunteer coordinator I speak to is convinced that I'm a PP toucher or some shit. They can't understand that a 29 year old man would rather hang out and play crib with seniors than get drunk at the Roxy with his frosted-tip homies. Dummmmb.