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Monday, 4 January 2010


It’s quite a new thing. People didn’t use to do it so much. Didn’t decorate the streets that snuggled the places they lived or fill the tract between their skin and muscles with ink. Maybe they didn’t want to. They might have thought they looked nice already. Maybe they waited until that clean and smooth sheen of concrete descended. Waited for the right type of grey before they changed it to something else. Personally I like concrete, especially polished concrete. It’s quite posh that as well. Some people just like to smash things up, Windows or towers or phone boxes. Building a tower could be vandalism as well, if you did it in someone else’s garden. But if they liked it I’m not sure it would be anymore… Maybe it has to be ugly and crass and neon and sharp to be vandalism. I think you may just have to upset people. Then you’re a vandal. Like the band or the trainer. Sometimes I reckon spraying your name on a wall’s just like my cat pissing on my sofa. A pain in the arse, it also ruins those years we spent evolving into not being things like cats anymore… and the sofa. A friend of mine used to smash wing mirrors off cars every time he walked down a street drunk. I couldn’t focus on the immediate pleasure of kicking things because I was preoccupied with insurance premiums and the people that dozed behind drawn curtains, whether they were nice or wankers. Although I may have just thought about these things because I was scared that if I kicked a car I might get punched in my face or in trouble.

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