at long last i hear kyle's voice again

i couldn't get by Forest Lawn today. i worked all day without a break and would have arrived after dark. i hate not going by to clean ky's marker and leave some flowers.

when i got home, on my computer desktop iMovie was open. i vaguely remembered clicking on it by mistake as i was leaving for work in a hurry. i thought about the movie ky was working on the years before his death, the one he'd shown to me when he was home that last memorial day weekend. i start going through the clips.

they are as i remember, for the most part: drive-by shots of the streets and highways of San Francisco, clips of graffiti and tags, a tour of his haunts, and once or twice he's on a bus. some he took at the Venice graffiti wall or driving in LA. the soundtrack is usually the noisy street, sometimes the music on a CD player, sometimes the sounds of the car. (at time i'm not sure whose car he was in or who was driving.) sometimes there is silence and sometimes there are voices. and some of the time--be still my heart--i hear kyle.

i've been wanting so much to hear kyle's voice again. i have been heartsick that he left no outgoing greeting on his cell phone, heartsick i did not have one of his last voicemail messages saved.

in the video clips, sometimes ky's hand reaches in the frame pointing to something or picking up something. once, you see the camera pan down to his hand turning his dickey pants pocket inside out, proving to a guy he hasn't any more money than the quarter he's just given the guy. one time you see him capture his own tall shadow on the sidewalk. but as i watch i never see a clear image of kyle.

i do, though, hear bits and snatches of his deep voice. sometimes just a random word. sometimes more. chuckling, laughing, commenting, teasing, semi-interviewing. some things he'd be embarrassed by (or not). some his father would hate (or not). to me--part mother, part sponge--i am thirsty for every utterance.

i'll find a way to imbed a clip here. but when i do, take a breath or two before you listen. it's like having kyle here again, just out of sight.

From Kyle's Notebook

If you saw Kyle's notebooks, you'd think they were filled with scribbling. Actually he was practicing his "writing" style for tagging. Occasionally there are phrases which he may have read somewhere, heard as lyrics, or were his own. And on rare occasion, you find something like below. Since Kyle was so into music, I'm thinking this was in his head like a blues song.


The bus is comin
I've been waitin
....*
I've been paintin

Ain't got no money
Can't pay no fare
Got to get to the door
by the back stair**

The bus is crowded
Can't get no seat
Women look at me with scorn
Then they step on my feet

Been working since mornin
From nine to five
No food in the cupboard
No herb to get high

Got my check last Friday
You know it's already spent
For food and herb
For debt and rent

Trying to live right
But you know it's so hard
Boss man, police man,
and Mister Landlord



*Illegible
**Ky was so tall that he would have to stand in the door well of the bus in order to have room for his head

Last Memorial Day

The last time I saw Kyle--well really saw him--talking and laughing and full of life, was right after Memorial Day last year. He had spent some time making this monster of a message on the Venice graffiti wall. It was a response to the fact that following the weekend, the city of Venice would put into effect a new law: writers could no longer paint on the wall without a permit. He thought that was ridiculous and wrote the above message: FUCKAPERMIT. He particularly liked the fact that the wall was across from the police station. I liked the fact that he was getting the 3D down really well.

That kid at the right end? He's already started to paint over Ky's work. That's how it was at the graffiti wall. Soon as you were done, the next writer is literally all over it. To get the picture, Ky had to ask folk to wait and then run way back to take the shot. He came home and dumped his pictures into my computer and we had a great talk that night. I told him I thought that if he were going to be a graffiti artist that words and messages, his politics, would be his talent. He then spent ages showing me pictures of graffiti he had taken all over San Francisco. He'd explained about his name DFEAT and the FYF crew theme that, sadly, I'd get to know so much more about that (FarewellYoungFriend). The time Ky spent with me, even at the time, felt like a gift, like something we were both savoring.

Mysterious Ways

Lovely Laura, Kyle's girlfriend, came over last night. She is doing beautifully, having just graduated from the University of San Francisco with a psychology major. She looked wonderful and healthy and was upbeat. It was so comforting to see her doing so well.

Laura had done a remarkably brave thing. She had taken the Caltrain again. THE train from near Santa Cruz headed north. THE train that had stopped for 45 minutes and then, while Kyle was going to fetch them Chinese food, started up again after only 20 to 30 minutes. The train he had tried to climb on. The train he had fallen from.

Laura had gone to the second story (I hadn't realized this was a double decker train) and taken a seat. She sat at the back, as close to the seat she had sat in on July 5th as she could tell. It was not easy.

Obviously, this would have been overwhelming for anyone who had lost her boyfriend in a train accident. But two more things happened to shake her up a bit. The seatback that she faced was covered in graffiti. Writing not that artistic, kind of like Kyle would have done if he'd taken to defacing backs of seats on trains. She looked around at the other seats. No other had writing of any kind.

The she found beneath her seat a bag containing Chinese food, left untouched by a previous passenger. She called her parents.

I'm not going so far as to say that Kyle finally delivered Laura the food he promised but left in a hurry. But hearing about the graffiti and the food did take my breath away.

One more reason I may have to start Atheists for an Afterlife.