trixxie

A GREASY BREAKFAST IS GOOD IN THE WOODS AT 6 AM. THEN I USUALLY GO FISHING WITH MY FISHING NET FILLED WITH A 6 PACK FULL OF AMSTEL LIGHT KEEPING COOL BECAUSE I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO CAN NEVER CATCH A THING AND DO NOT CARE

Born in Flushing, Queens, CLAW became infatuated with graffiti as a child, while looking out the car window and watching the highway throw ups go by. She began writing graffiti in the late 1980s, when she moved to Manhattan, after she enrolled in the Fashion Institute of Technology. It was during this time that her admiration for her graffiti evolved into an obsession. During the 1990's Claw linked up some of graffitis most notorious and prolific figures, taking her iconic "claws" all city. Claw is among a rare breed- the female writer. Some women writers think the rules are different for them but they really arent, CLAW told ZEPHYR for While You Were Sleeping magazine: women get a little more slack, but as a woman, you should do twice as much as a man and be twice as dope. I dont think writing graffiti is a feminist statement. Being a woman and writing graffiti is more an equality issue- trying to fit into a mans world. Its great that women feel they can be a part of this culture. Thats the way it should be. After reigning supreme as the Queen of the New York City bombers in the early and mid-1990s, CLAW took off for Los Angeles in 1995 to pursue a career in styling and costume design. "I love graffiti with all my heart", CLAW told QUIK RTW for Backspin magazine, "but being a vandal is not putting money in my pocket. I do it for my friends and crew. And I do it for the ladies. Fashion is just another way of expressing myself."



[Edited on Sep 15, 2005 11:52AM]

[Edited on Sep 15, 2005 11:53AM]

Inspired by your writing and not at all
in the mood to listen to people
hoarsely shout
over the two massive, no-nonsense fans
that have been fixtures over
by the windows at my usual
meeting across the street,
I decided instead to kind of
wander down to the park
that provided a similiar refuge
for me at one time. For some
reason I just wanted to more
or less check things out down
there and generally see
what's what. And as I sat there
, sweating into my iced coffee,
staring into space, I had a whole mess of
questions I couldn't help
sort of throwing out there.
1.In London, what's the
story with that absolutely
insane apartment building
we stayed at on Ormond Street
, by the children's hospital.
Those amazingly nice
people on the first floor over
to the right were out of their
nut, as were the others
up on the third floor. Oh I know London's big but
I thought I would take
a stab at it anyway.
I was always curious.
2.Where were the speaker
top nights? In London,
Canada, NYC or else where?
3. Here's a wall I don't know if you've seen.

PINK's canvas are always
fresh and original and the
stuff at Guernsey's or Soma
was just wonderful. She made us the coolest little spray can Christmas
Tree ornament and signed it
and we keep it in a special
little sealed plastic baggy
and just stare at it every so
often. That and the No Parking
sign REVS painted for us.
Oh, and the MUCK canvas too.
And, if I'm being even remotely
complete with respect to this type of thing,
an inordinate amount of time late,
late at night staring at
the view of the bridges
and the lower east side
and east village from way
up out our windows as well.




[Edited on Aug 18, 2005 11:47AM]

[Edited on Aug 18, 2005 11:48AM]

[Edited on Aug 18, 2005 11:50AM]

Except for some obvious fanciful "yarns" I had, at one time,when much younger, mentally spun to take me to a better place when my all but "ideal" homelife got, for me at least, "too-much-to-swallow", all the rest, outside of the occasional hopefully equally obvious exaggeration, is, well, true. (Ala the cabbit. The cabbit would be one such example. Of a, again, hopefully, fancifully presented "yarn"). I've grappled with addiction for, unfortunately, a good two thirds of my life and was really "off-to-the-races" you could say in the era of The World and Hotel Amazon and such. Now I just pick little memories or daily experiences , and, without trying to expose too much, or cause myself too much "in-recovery-esque-obsessive" handwringing or head clutching, or, on the other hand, without appearing, in anyway, mastubatory, or worst yet, like I have any clue at all, really, just put them out there and see if anyone else can "relate" or "feel". And, more importantly really, to see what others have to say and what they have generally been up to.

[Edited on Jul 25, 2005 6:27PM]

I just wanted to clean up and get my bearings and sort out the last ten minutes or so. I also, more significantly, with all the flailing and twisting and kind of shock of being stuck in that completely impossible predicament, wasnt feeling all that hot, and was worried, in a way, that I might actually vomit or throw-up, if you want to know the truth. Thats the main reason I just bolted out of the room and made a bee-line for the bathroom. I didnt want to add myself vomiting to the scenario. I had twisted and bent and flailed around so much that it honestly had made me pretty fucking nauseous. I hadnt eaten a thing all day or even all night for that matter, and honestly thought I was about to vomit there in the sink in the thankfully empty bathroom. My mind was a mess and I couldnt think clearly so I just stood there spitting into the sink and tried to calm down. I just stood there spitting into the sink and tried to think things over and more or less plan my next step.