Grafitti fascinates me. No, it really does. I mean, first there's the whole mindset; you're gonna do this thing, you could get caught, and everybody's gonna see it from now until the rain washes it away. And sometimes you get names or badly scribbled bits of profanity, and occasionally you get the really weird or beautiful, just stuck on the sides of buildings or decorating overpasses and things.

On the way to Rt 18, there's a bridge over the river (Raritan? Demmed if I can remember) that had the words "I love Stacey still" on the side of it. A bridge, dozens of meters above the water, with that painted on the side. First, how did they get there, and second, does Stacey love him back? You can't see the words anymore; they've faded from the weather and the sunlight. But not far from that bridge, there's an overpass, and underneath it, right above the spot where the concrete turns to grass, there's this little man-demon, really, with a clown-white face and yellow teeth full of holes and I think, black and white striped pants. Clown shoes, too. It's been a while since I've looked at it, but it's been there for as long as I can remember, and it hasn't faded much due to its sheltered spot.

The little guy's holding a scroll with "Your Soul" at the top of it. It's a shockingly disturbing and disturbingly attractive little painting. So you have to wonder, who would paint something like that, and why would they paint it underneath an overpass where a bush slowly (ever so slowly) is trying to cover it up?

When I went to NY last, I saw this face, in red, staring out from the concrete supports for the platform on the other side of the tracks at the trainstation. It was a miserable day, but there was that face, incredibly lifelike and marvelously well done, right next to the tracks. So who checked the train schedules to make sure the enterprising artist wouldn't get run over while he painted?

It just makes you wonder, sometimes.