Hopefully I don't dox myself by writing this, but I'm a graffiti artist, or as some might see it, but the link went.

I'm fine with either title.

Point is, I like to spray paint and I'm decent with a can in my hand.

The tagging community is atrocious.

People are unfriendly and there's no respect between artists.

Because of this, I've adopted a much more inconspicuous routine. I like tagging up quieter

spots where my art likely won't be seen by other artists or the general public. Old train lines are usually

a good bet, since the train cars are endless and new trains get decommissioned and left to rod on them all the time.

My friend Lucas likes to come with me when I tag up even though he's not big into the whole thing himself.

I welcome the company. Some people don't

understand the importance of a good friend and I think that's sad. Most of my other friends don't seem to

respect my time or interests as much as he seems to. Lucas and I found

ourselves smoking on some nameless set of old tracks I found earlier that day on

Google Maps. I'm not a big stoner myself but he smokes a lot of weeds so I often indulged to match his vibe.

It wasn't that late, maybe a little past 10 p.m.

We finished a jay and talked as we walked alongside the old rusty freight train. Oddly enough, there wasn't a single

tag on the entire train. Must have been recently moved here, I thought, excited that I

get first dibs on such a good surface. I tossed Lucas a can for him to mess around with and I started doing my own thing.

About five minutes later, I finished my first tag. I admired it for a bit before moving to the next car, then the next.

About 15 minutes and two paint cans later, I had three decent tags up adjacent to one

another and I was pretty proud of myself for how they looked in combination with each other.

Sorry in advance if this offends anyone, but I tend to discard my empty cans wherever they go dry.

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