Victimless crimes man, they're a godsend, they even let you feel good about yourself the next morning. Ah yeah, sweet sherbet dreams and a clear conscience – that's candy to the tongue. I know, I know! it's kind of childish but there's just something about breaking the law in harmless petty ways that I thoroughly enjoy! Kinda pathetic, me, a grown boy of 28, playing at criminal, or at least it's closest, most comfortable middle-class alternative... but at the same time; makes me alert, awake, fluorescent with risk and goddamn! charred with the joy of it.

It's weird, afterwards I feel almost like I've done something actually genuinely worthwhile. Like I achieved an important milestone for this quarter, or crossed one more to-do COLLISION IMMINENT! PULL UP! PULL UP! item off the old whiteboard list and explosively carved my face into the avalanche prone mountains of history. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Still, the idea of stencilling absolutely appeals. Basically, it sounds like a hellva lot of fun. Plus—makes the world a drip more colourful and keeps things slightly interesting. I honestly, I do, like to think of this shit as almost being a public service. Here I am, I mean there I was: me, an upstanding responsible member of respectable civil society and role model for several children, proudly determined to perform my civic duty and make the world a better place.

Afterwards I feel that I have cross-hatched a bit more of the woodcut, I am heavy with paint.

I guess it's mostly a case of whatever spins your wheels. so I guess this gasoline is the homoeopathic equivalent of pharmaceutical-grade rocket fuel, the kind of covert CIA horse-steroids normally reserved for cup day at the rings of Saturn.

I guess you have to do things you enjoy.

Low barrier to entry with stencils. Anyone can create a design, cut it out on a piece of lino, grab a can of spraypaint and get straight out to the vandalism. I often find that approaching a subject you know very little about can be quite intimidating—there's no other way to go but humble—but at the same time it's all kinda fresh and new and I have everything to learn and clamber on.

I regularly forget, entirely, who I am. Getting too old, can't find the map with the pin. Like misplacing a set of extremely important keys, you just had them in your hand, they must be close by, retracing your steps, room by room, interrogating the ashtray and shouting ugly accusations at the vacuum cleaner, fuck, what was I doing again? But you can also lose yourself, moment by moment, absolved completely in what you are caught up in doing, seems a better way of spending time.