Idea — Imagined for Cinema
The smell of paint on a full moon, when shadows are their darkest, distracts me from the world’s burdens. Even if it is for only just that moment, the risk is weighted, and found irrelevant. I don’t tiptoe or sneak. I block out all possible transgressions and their consequences. I don’t acknowledge property, or accept the idea of off-limits. Laws make the world go round but for some people it’s just not spinning fast enough. At night I live in a world of baggy pants, aerosol cans and wet paint waiting to be applied. I learned at a young age that you can sell your ideas, and ideas never run out. My days’ only relevance in life is an income to fund my habits at night. My ideas are sold and posted as ads all over the world. But when night falls and all the advertisements are turned off I go to work on the world. In the night I fill the silent walls with expressive noise. I claim an empty space left exposed by law-abiding citizens and fill it with my concepts, and opinions. Things that question the purpose of life, the nature of reality and the infinite amounts of information everywhere. Ideas… I spread Ideas, ideas that I believe can change the world for the better.
This is the recap of my last idea.
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The Blind Arties closed at 2am.
“Meezee, I swear your ass is nocturnal,” Mike said, leaving the shop
Anticipation and adrenaline had already started to pump through my veins and without meaning to I ignored Mike. The door closed behind him and I was finally alone. A forgotten outline of a masterpiece lay before me on a crumpled-up piece of construction paper. I sketched vigorously with my sharpie, trying to bring it back to life. It was just an outline, a sketch, an idea. Nothing more than the beginning of what it was to become.
I finished with a final stroke and capped the pen. The idea had grown from an idea I had in my mind at one moment in time and now today it gets to evolve again it’s being paid attention to again… but with a new mind expanding on it. Tho the amount of time between when the Idea was first sketched out till the second time it was creatively worked the individual that I am has gone through experiences and been altered a bit in the mind. This present mind is now taking the idea one step future crossing the gap beyond imagination and into physical illustration but through completion. This idea had broken free from being forgotten and tonight it will have survived the creative process and will be considered complete…. this is important to acknowledge because most ideas never do.
Knock, knock, knock. I looked up across the shop, one big room with tables scattered aimlessly throughout. I kept quiet. KNOCK, KNOCK! I smiled…one more knock and the code would be complete. KNOCK!!!!
“Come IN!!!” I yelled, standing up.
The door opened and the only norm in my life steps through.
“Hey Meezee,” Jay Bee’s sweet voice whispered off the wall.
Once again I didn’t answer. I spun the construction paper on the table and rolled it into a tube. Jay Bee’s footsteps are always soft but the silence I live in allows me to hear them. They stopped paces from me. I wrapped the freshly rolled tube with a thick rubber band and looked up into her eyes. Browns and greens looked back at me. I clicked the switch on the lamp and picked up my gear bag.
Contains of the gear bag:
Variety of spray cans, one towel, two rags, pack of smokes and lighter, condom (her idea), head lamp, a Dewalt fluorescent area light, and an array of bandanas.
Almost one years ago… and without knowing it I became reliant on her company. I didn’t want this; I rejected the idea and refused it. I couldn’t allow her influence to alter my life. I shouted in her face and cursed her involvement; she refused. So I sliced open her gear bag, and spilling the contents at her feet. I silently walked out into the night leaving her alone to collect her things. Four hours later I was cuffed on the hood of a cop car thinking of her eyes. Jay Bee is resilient as steel, polished to perfection and molded to float on water. I’m stubborn as a rock, sinking to the bottom and really needed her to keep me afloat. During that night alone in a cold cell I learned to yearn for her.
The next bright night she was there. I kissed her… she slapped me…. she kissed back. The night lasted till sunup. When it was done we were both exhausted and fell asleep together. Only to be discovered hours later by a girl on her way to school.
The acceptance of another person into my rogue existence terrified me. I would no longer be alone; she would know my secrets and be around when I wanted to vanish. I fought it, but I chose to embrace her forever, under all circumstances. I chose to love her.
We left the building in silence. Walked a block to the train and boarded.
“Where?” Jay Bee asked without looking at me.
“South wall of Millennium Park,” I answered.
The city of San Francisco was our playground. We knew every route in, out and across. We know when to go up or down, we knew when to stop and open a door. Every route to freedom was waiting in our back pocket.
The Bart stopped at West Oakland; we stood from our seats and departed. The walk was short and like always we stopped a block away from our destination and waited; ten minutes minimum, one hour maximum. If the decision to proceed wasn’t possible in that time we left.
And just like other targets I’ve spend countless nights observing this location, choosing the best day of the week and hour of the night to work, before I committed to the canvas.
At night the city spoke in tongues, shadows lingered and demons came out to stretch their legs. I waited under the flicker of a street light. Jay Bee checked the border. She is my lookout, my third eye, and I have learned to rely on her. Of what she does I remain ignorant. Only after she walks past the canvas do I know I have her approval to begin.
I laid the gear bag before the barren wall and swiped open the zipper; the first thing to come out was the light. After that only whatever I used at the moment broke the surface. I knew that at anytime, the night could turn against me and leave me running for my freedom. Yes, Jay Bee was there, watching for safety; but what you leave to chance you condemn. The bandana went on and mist engulfed me. The idea dug from the wall, each color maturing in sequence. Time sprinted against me. The mutters of the world hushed and with each stroke I move the idea closer into focus and manifestation.
If tear ducts existed in my eyes I would shed a tear for this beauty. The minerals in the wall snatched at the paint, clung to the paint, accepting it, soaking it up, and became one.
I was breathing the last breath into the piece when the hand of God gripped my windpipe and squeezed.
“MeeeeeZZeeeeeee!!!” Jay Bee screamed
In slow motion her voice echoed off the ice walls of my soul, melting it like fire on ice. I spun around and froze. Ice blanketed the city and chills climbed the vertebra of my spine. The can slipped from my grip and rattled against the sidewalk.
“Meezee, run!” Jay Bee cried out in anguish.
Three men stood with Jay Bee in their grasp. Jay Bee was forced over screaming through the hair that fell over her face.
I spun around snatched up the gear bag and sprinted. We both agreed. If anyone got caught they were on their own till morning. There’s no glory in going to prison together. That’s when I realized. They’re not cops. Jay Bee has been snatched up by devilmen of the night with unforgivable intent.
My body rejected flight before I did. I was standing still, the gear bag already discarded steps behind me. My direction veered, drawn toward Jay Bee’s defense. My pace was fast and fluid with force and decision. I drew my box knife from my pocket and slide out the small razor blade. I peered down the sidewalk at the sight of Jay Bee surrounded by captors.
The three men formed a triangle, Jay Bee in the middle with the two men in back man handling her and forcing her to be quite. The man in front drew a gun; I picked up the pace. The barrel bore down on me, I sprinted and shifted right, the muzzle flashed, I shifted left, the muzzle flashed again. The Gun Man with the gun stumbled forward to take better aim but at the same time Jay Bee’s legs started kicking viciously all the way up his back. In the moments it took him to regain his footing I ripped past him attempting to slide the knife blad all the way down his arm and into his neck.
I made good contact with the knife but lost it along the way. I leapt into the air and crashed down on the man to Jay Bee’s right. His free hand reached out as shield; I crashed through and my knees made sure contact with his chest. His hands slipped from Jay Bee on his way to the ground. As I landed on top of him, he gasped for air. I thrust my fist into his face, his throat, again and again, as fast as my fist would move I stormed down every drop of rage on him. Jay Bee cried out.
I jumped up, reevaluated, and shifted toward the last man. Toe to toe he tried to pull Jay Bee away as she strained against him. He froze. Fear poured from his pores. I ground my teeth, tucked in my chin, and the instant before I lunged he turned and fled. I followed for two inconsistent steps; I was under the control of rage, but the reason inside of me stepped in and I backed down.
Jay Bee was on the ground, breathing heavy, but quiet. Those green and brown eyes looked up at me. I relaxed and stood up straight. Retuning again Jay Bee gaze I exhaled my first breath of relief.
A gun shot rang out. I watched Jay Bee’s body jump. I was frozen. Then heat webbed through my body; then pain took over. I felt weak and began to collapse. Jay Bee was there and caught me. She slowly lowered me to the ground but I didn’t feel her put me down. Actually I could see her talking to me but couldn’t hear anything. I watched her face for a moment but then watched her become very anger and start to look around.
The next thing I new Jay Bee had gotten up and took the guy away from the other guy, quickly turned and shot at the man running away, and then walked back over to the man who shot me and stared stomping his head in with her boots.
Looking up at the sky I couldn’t help but think about how beautiful the night was. I could see the stars behind the lights of the city. I felt the wind stirring.
Jay Bee’s face came into view, silhouette at first. She looked so scared. I reached up to touch her face as it came into focus. She was crying.
Jay Bee hadn’t been shot. I had. I started to feel and realizing blood was leaving my body very fast. But I was to upset with the fact that I was dying. But to be honest the bullet hole didn’t hurt it was the slow lack of oxygen suffocating me that grasped hold of my focus.
The panic in her eyes distorted the colors. “Jay Bee, don’t cry,” I said… but only in my mind.
I could see her lips moving but the words vanished with my attempts to translate them.
The moments in between consciousness and death were very still. Pain was present but my mind let it go as Jay Bee’s milk white skin, California face, coffee black hair lingered in my vision. I stared and couldn’t help but smirk at how cute her tears are. I wanted to comfort her, I wanted to sit up and hold her. A tear fell from her cheek and splashed on my lips, it tasted salty.
I gasped for air but it wasn’t enough. I was troubled. I had so much left to say but no time to…
Death overtook me. My thoughts were full but my tongue was still and my vision blank. Not black or blurry: blank. As if the concept of seeing had ceased to exist.
I wondered where I was going, what was next. I remembered the splash of Jay Bee’s tear, but couldn’t recapture the taste. Memories were fading; it quickly didn’t matter. Like a piece of ash burned off from the fire, I floated out of my body and felt myself become formless. My connection to my body slowly started to vanish, vanish like a forgotten an Idea.
The End
