getting up just aint that easy

GETTING UP JUST AINT THAT EASY

“She gets around, she gets around a lot” – Money Jane by Baby Blue Soundcrew

 

Boredom can bring one to do many things. Recently a silly Montrealais discovered the age old lesson of what boredom can bring one to do. With the combination of a bit of ambition, a permanent marker and wine from dinner lead Baby Jane to perform mischievous things in nighttime. The graffiti spirit flowed through her veins bringing to tag anything and everything that stood in her way. She was beginning to collect street cred by the milli second. The sound of the police quickly awoke her from her graffiti induced trance. Like Tony Montana, she discovered that the higher you are, the harder you fall.

  

Interviewee: State your name gangsta

BabyJane: Baby Jane

 

I: Is your name inspired by a Baby Blue sound crew song?

BJ: Absolutely, because I (giggles) saw them at the Tulip festival in Ottawa in the year 2001, and I knew that they would one day have a great deal to do with my fate.

 

I: How would you summarize the Montreal area called the Plateau?

BJ: Um, (tapes up a self-made envelope) it’s a lot like (giggles), it’s like a comfortable outdoor pub, um (continues to tape) where everyone knows your name but there is no Woody Harrilson.

 

I: Why did you pick the plateau to make your mark?

BJ: Um because it is very small area in which I supposed it might be easy to get up

 

 

I: What is your weapon of choice?

BJ: Um, my weapon of choice is black permanent marker that costs $2.27, available at the depanneur next to Chez Jose until 11pm.

 

I: What does it mean to “get up”?

BJ: It means that everybody knows your name. Um, it mean that if you write your name enough, then people can’t help but notice it and know that you are part of that open air bar that is the heart of this city.

 

I: have you had any incidents with the law, as you were attempting to get up?

BJ: As a matter of fact, yes, I had been on my way “up” for about an hour, um dropped my name probably 69 times, when I found myself in the face of a salt& pepper haired po-po who put on his sirens, it was an unfortunate situation I don’t’ consider myself out to damage other peoples property I mainly limit my name to (giggles) space that will not be debeautified by it’s presence.

 

I: What’s next for you in your career”?

BJ: Um, well now that I have been in contact with the law, I will have to change my pseudo-nom should I get on the “up” ever again.

 

I: Do you feel that incident with the law has given you a bad taste for getting “up”?

BJ: Absolutely not, it’s all part of the game, and you can’t let the man get you down.

 

I: What inspires you?

BJ: I am inspired by the guys who run Peanut Butter Chow Mein, who are always willing to give me a free fortune cookie, when there is a line up of people who are waiting for their noodles. Those boys have hearts of gold

I: Lastly, is there anything that you want to tell your fans?

BJ: Um, well I would have to say, don’t try your luck on the corner of Pins and St.laurent around midnight, because it’s silly. And keep on rocking in the free way…doood dooo looot dooot doo doo.

I later had a chance to talk to "Parson Browne" who worked at one of the stores "hit" by baby jane. I perused through the stores collection of various silk screened things as I also attempted to collect boxes for my dreaded move. Parson helped explain to me what he thought about Baby Jane's recent beautification of St.Lo.

Parson Browne: It reminds me of Winnipg gang graffiti because it lacked any sort of classic graffiti structure and the prefix of "baby" is common to gang members where it's more about making a mark than a stylized affair.

I: Do you feel that getting up in this city is easy?

PB: Yeah, in comparison to other cities, Montreal is a cake walk, or to get up in because there is no buff.

I: Buf? what doth that mean?

PB: Buff means anybody who removes graffiti, or tags over it. it comes from buff to shine.

I: Do you have a past in graffiti?

PB: I did graff when I was 11 years old, doing tags and stuff. I grew out of it but I've never lost interest in it.

I: Tell me more about Baby Jane techniques

PB: Another thing is that you can tell that a characteristic of a seasoned graff artist is that they take time (due to patience and confidence). You can tell that she was experimenting. 

I:Are you mad she tagged your store?

PB: I love baby jane, so no, I'm not mad at all that she tagged this place.

THAT'S IT FOLKS. 

DONT FORGET TO EAT YOUR SPINACH

 

 

Adventures in the sun

ADVENTURES IN THE SUN

Walking down St.Laurent, Montreal’s runway, you never know what to expect. Leaving who you’ll encounter, what you will witness and where you’ll end up to new level of random. I took a stroll down this said street today. Collecting photographs for a pseudo-article on a new Montreal graffiti artist, who learnt the hard way that getting up just ain’t that easy.

 As I perused home, I passed a familiar stranger, who I often see on these Montreal streets, I gave him a Lion King inspired name Rafiki. Not based on any racial conations but just because he always wears a smile as he carries a wooden stick and he also looks as if he would have some interesting stories to tell. I creepily snapped a photo or two of him as he talked to some people on the street. I continued on my way home and saw my friends T&A come out of a clothing store.  They were doing some research for a clothing company they are launching and were checking out local shops. A realized that my bike was busted and offered to help fix it.

Sidenote to the ladies, guys love to fix bikes, so if you’re feeling lonely bust your bike up a little and hang out at your nearest bike path. RESULTS WILL OCCOUR.

Anyways, as my bike was being fixed Rafiki walked towards us, I couldn’t help but say hello. We began chatting it up, he spewed proverbs and inspirational quotes. Which made it hard at times to concentrate. I decided to snap some shots as I zoned in and out of the conversation. In summary, he handed me his card which had no telephone number or e-mail. 

Rather he had just his address, I felt a slight touch of old-school, like real old-school when phone’s didn’t even exist. He also was carrying a bag of photo albums, showing his memories of playing Othello and those who once meant something to him. He wished us well and carried on his path. After our conversation I hopped on T&A’s research train and hit up a Man-Friendly boutique, the hangers were clad with YSL swimming trunks, coconut scented Marc Jacobs perfume and a wild assortment of sneakers to satiate any shoe fetish. After we teased our mind with the idea of one day being loaded. We ended up hitting up a café, making it my third coffee in roughly 2 hours. A bounced to attend to some previous engagements as T and I soaked in the sun and pretended to be hanging out in Europe. We decided we were in need of an adventure so we headed to my house to drop off my stuff. I gave a quick tour and then we hit up the streets. Left turned into a right as we aimlessly roamed. We ended back on St.Laurent street, this time there were chicks in quilts giving away coupons to a near by pub. It turned out that the coupons were a straight $5.00 to get wherever we wanted. We suddenly had a destination. The place was nice, chatted it up with the bartender who was also appropriately attired in a quilt. He told us he had just flown in from Paris one hour ago and was now working. We ordered delicious fries that were accompanied by a curry sauce. We chatted and giggled and then A returned to show us his latest accomplishment, which was a remix to a fun 80’s track. The time came for us to part so I picked up my bike that is apparently useless for the moment and headed home. Et, voila here I am typing away random tangents from my mind as I blast a mix my home girl passed me. 

TODDLA T

 

A louer

SONG: Hang on to your love-Sade

Here i sit, on lovely st.lo street, for some anglo's who choose to keep it anglo, the street can also be known as "st.laurence street, but that is for those who like to keep it obnoxious. 

it's a beautiful day and the hipsters are shining, with the bright colors and urban outfitters garb. dont get me wrong im not here to preach the gospels of originality, rather im here just to make fun of it anything else i deem acceptable. my judgmental gaze leaves little room for innocence. 

Sidenote, there is a man across the street, who is just sitting alone and talking to himself as he smokes he cigarette through his nose. Things like this cannot be made up, rather they are straight from the pages of a thing I like to call reality. 

Three days remain of my time as a Montrealais, ooh how the time flies by kinda like a night of drinking, I will realize all the fun that was had, the morning after, choosing to ignore all the things that are deemed secondary.

There is not much left on my to do list, besides just take it easy and just enjoy ze moment. There is one thing left, but I shall chose to keep that between me and my imagination.

The past seems to haunt me like the ghost that used to crash on the 4th floor of the museum of science and nature building in Ottawa. Apparently, they renovated the whole place, evicting the pool ghost man, gentrification just aint hitting the poor but also the dead.

I gots myself a new camera, which is exciting. these peeps who insist that I call them "mom& dad" came over the other day, popped open the trunk of the their vehicle and were like "you check this ish out gurl" I was like oh snap, oh no you didn't. they then drove off to kick it with their homegirl aka my sister aka their daughter.

I don't have the internet and must be honest, I am overwhelmed by it's powerful existence.

I often check out the same things everytime i "log on"

like my horoscope, which i know is as close to being as real as Paris Hilton, but im just a sucker for a stranger to tell me precise things about my life. I then proceed to check out my e-mail accounts in hopes of  discovering something fun and exciting in my inbox, often more than not, i come out empty handed, but hey my horoscope tells me that will change. My friend insists that I cave into "Skype" but truth be told that ish kinda scares me, it's as if the future is now, and I am unable to run away from it. I continue to make excuses like "i dont have a webcam, or I don't have a computer, or I don't know what Skype is, but there is just soo long that I can continue to spit these lies in hopes of caching my fears of well face to face Internet chatting. 

Sidenote, CLones...what up with that and do they actually exist?  Looking out of my cafe store front window, i can't help but to see constant reproductions of cool. 

I have pretty much found a way to say nothing in soo many words. MAGICIAL!!!

I am in a current state of detox, the slight thought of alcohol makes me shudder, as I am reminded of my 17hour state of comatose. I pretty much laid in bed for give or take 17hours, entering and leaving consciousness here and there. It was a rough day, a complete write-off to be exact. but ca arrive....n'est pas. Belvedere, kids! It's dangerous....perhaps a weapon of mass destruction if placed in the wrong hands.... And, Sunday it was defiantely a weapon that destroyed my liver and all plans I had made for Monday. It reached a point that talking was a difficult task.

Ok, the Sun has decided to come out and make an appearance, making me want to sit under it's rays as I attempt to procrastinate more of my life away. 

Laziness is truly an artform, one that I am attempting to perfect, daily, hourly and well just constantly.