The cat is repeatedly jumping from the kitchen table. It’s like that scene in the Matrix where the black cat repeatedly walks past, but no Keanu saying “Whoa. That’s weird.”
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
I wake as SharkBoy jumps from the bed and peeks out the blinds. There are people on the roof next to our building. SharkBoy can see people doing something to the billboard that fronts onto the street, on the roof next to ours.
At 3am, your mind races. We’ve repeatedly caught, chased and hid from various people who have gained easy access to this roof beside us. One night, kids use the roof to try to break into the apartment while SharkBoy was home. Another time, kids tried to use it for a video shoot around 2am. Many times we’ve yelled at kids who go there to drink. The year I moved into the building, someone was pistol-whipped in the back and kidnapped so you can understand that if there is anyone up on the roof, we cautiously decide whether or not to confront, call cops or ignore. If the city didn’t demand that two fire escapes be fully accessible at all times, I would have electrified and chained these access points long ago. Unfortunately, I can’t kill trespassers. The bible and the city say no.
They’re done. The four of them leave the roof. They’re carrying hockey sticks, poles and backpacks and my mind says, “Best not to confront them.” as they leave. They meet round the front of the apartment and hug and take pictures of their work. I begin to suspect their some sort of guerrilla artists group, fucking up some billboards for the mass G20 court date that is happening today.
This morning, Torontoist reports that this was a city wide “raid” on public advertising. Oh you OCAD kiddies! You hipster culture jammers! You fucking Queen Street Rejects. Hey here’s a thought, if you come around our house again, I’ll beat you senseless with a bat and then call the cops. And I’ll take pictures and I’ll call it art: “Bloody Art Student”