Groups of people are sent off to see the judge, and finally my time comes at 10:15 pm on thursday evening. Lying in between two large men, one with a tear drop tattoo, i awake to my name being called. I rise excitedly and the Officer tells me as he lets me out of my cell that the case has been dropped. “Damn straight!” I try to tell myself i knew it all along, they didn’t have shit on me, and they beat my ass. Fucking pigs. They keep my paperwork and tell me i can go pick up my things at the district headquarters where i was arrested. I walk out into the thursday evening sky-Free again.
Out of all this shit, i am lucky, i am unscathed, the beating was nothing i can’t handle, and i feel my karma caught up to me for the kind cops who found and returned some stuff i left at a subway station a couple weeks back. But Damn, i missed work for these photographers, and they have no idea where i am or what i’ve been doing. I thought to email you guys, but i am worn out and go back to my friends house where i had been before the arrest. She welcomes me in, i tell her all about it, and she gives me food and a shower. I sleep.”
TODAY IS THE DAY!
"RESISTING ARREST! We don’t have to wear uniforms! WE’RE TAKING YOU IN!" they yell, and i finally realize it is over. I realize it’s over as the man on my right pulls my arm up and backwards until it might snap at any second. I realize i’m finished when they throw me to the floor and start kicking my ribs and head. I know i’m doomed, lying face in the concrete, both their knees on my back, as they zip the cuffs on as tight as they can.
They take me to district 33 in a squad car with two additional uniformed police. Joking around in the car, the driver tells me that “‘Man is born free and is everywhere in chains’ Locke said that” i reply with a simple “Heavy” and i mean it. My everything hurts, and the cop who practically broke my arm is sitting chummy with me in the back seat, his arm resting on my shoulder.
After two hours in District 33, they say i will be able to see a lawyer, and they ask me if i want my phone call. Who do i call? my parents? Rachael with DOOMED? my roommates? My phone is out of batteries and i have no numbers, i could call my parents but i don’t. They get me and two other cellmates in a bus, and drive us cuffed to CENTRAL BOOKINGS, a jail where people wait to be seen by a judge. That’s what i’m told, but its 3:45 in the morning and there’s no judges to be seen so we’re shuffled into cells with “other mischievous people such as yourself”. I hear an older black man, allegedly pulled over for weed by a racist cop who stalks him. Elsewhere i see a tall middle eastern man, admitting to firing his pistol into another man’s leg. All these cases are different, but all are doomed just the same.”
We’re ready for Tomorrow! ARE YOU?!?!?!
"I first put it up on one of the metal columns, which were painted over and over with a teal green so as to add texture to color. The sticker didn’t stick all that well, but it’s black and white resounded with the black sign above, where i cropped the word "wilson" out, leaving an ambiguous "AVENUE". Yes, this photo would represent DOOMED in the subway station of subway stations. It could be anywhere in manhattan, the bronx, staten island, it was just a run of the mill subway station, any "avenue" but clearly new york, clearly DOOMED.
As i said, it didn’t stick well, i peeled it off. I put it on another wall, framed the shot, adjusting the grout lines just so with a putrid circle of rust in one tile, and the doomed sticker in the next. DOOMED, this station is doomed, new york is doomed, i am doomed. I take it off and stare into the darkness of the subway tunnel. Across the track is a black wall, dirt and soot leak down it hinting at the coming insurrection. I held out the DOOMED sticker for a reflexive photograph. The cell phone clicked: the image of a twin lens camera juxtaposed in this hellish background alludes to the act of photography and documenting art. I was proud of myself, but part of me felt like a weasel- insecure in my ideas and unwilling to STICK with one spot. The train came and i got on.
No one was on the train, i sat down next to a subway map, having left the station i was in a new territory, a traveling target that would surely reach a larger audience. “Where is DOOMED” i asked myself, and placed the nonadhesive sticker atop of the Green line in green point. I stepped back. sat across from the map, and photographed the map and the anonymous subway. DOOMED is everywhere, riding through the caves of new york city, seeing the light in Williamsburg and…. doomed, doomed is obstructing the functionality of the map, whose only purpose is to be helpful to the everyman who must travel through this harsh city. I site next to the map again, and slowly peal off the DOOMED sticker thinking it might be in bad taste. my thirst was quenched, i would see the light of day, in Manhattan, tomorrow, and i would be more aggressive, more public, and more confident in my Throw-Up stickering. “Tomorrow the right spot will come” i told myself.”