Let me hit it from the back while I rock the Ski
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MISCHA YOJI COSTAS. 70′S OC.
“ You grew up in twenty-four hour laundromats and wore what you could find inside, you’ve been a problem child from as long as you could speak; your name isn’t really your name, but you use it nonetheless. Those that know you, see you, call you Critter. Those that do not see you do not call you anything. Often you are called Mischa. Often you are called Lovey, Mischling and other, sweeter things that rot your teeth.
The streets you grew up, the streets that raised you, were not kind; but you are. Sweet things grow between your toes and lovely words blossom up past your honey’d lips, you are a rose growing in the cracks of the emptied swimming pool you skate in. Your skin is speckled, your limbs long and sinewy but strong --- hard work isn’t a stranger to a boy like you.
Your singular claim to fame is your art. You’d like to believe it’s the grafitti on the train that goes into the Bronx, but it isn’t. It’s that Led Zeppelin album with the windows on it, Physical Graffiti; even the name was lifted from you.
Now they call you the Graffitti Ghoul, your name doesn’t matter anymore. Life didn’t seem to start until those four men sauntered into your life and took your name, your word, your art; they liked your life - style, didn’t they? Those posh, long - limbed English boys. So they took you with them, you didn’t even need to ask. They bit your art and swallowed your poetry and then kindnapped you.
As it stands, your name is still Mischa and you are kind and if you had it your way every single swimming pool in California State would be emptied so that you could skate it. Despite being taken, transplanted into the dreamy world that is Los Angeles, you’ve never been more yourself.
Led Zeppelin didn’t start your life, but they sure as hell helped. “
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#Los Angeles #Graffitti #HipHop
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