I started writing in Flushing, Queens in 1979, mainly hitting-up my name on the stairways in my building, along with a very close friend of mine (who was writing RIOT 1, for a short time). The name I picked was NEO, which means
I started bombing by myself. It was when LOOK 1 wanted to go to Continental Avenue on Halloween, but at the last moment I backed out. I saw an undercover cop, and my Neo senses popped up like Spiderman (telling me not to go). On the next day, in the newspaper, I saw that quite a few people got busted. DERK is now driving the 7 train late nights. GHOST, PEAK, and PG 3 were some of the writers who got me interested in piecing.
As far as racking goes, I was probably the best in the RIS crew, with heavy competition from GHOST who was racking 200 cans in a day. Once, I got caught racking paint and maced the employees so that I could get away. It was a good plan at the time, until the cops came, and maced me with two cans of the stuff. All I can say is..."Thanks I appreciated that".
Climbing on rooftops, swinging from elevated platforms, and almost getting hit by trains pulling out, is what I call fun. I wrote with the following crews: RIS, MPC, UA, QV, NOG and TDK. TDK was the first crew I was down with. SO was the leader for the TDK crew, whose real name was Erik. He loved writing his name and his girls name, (ERIK and DONNA 4 EVER) around the neighborhood. SO, GHOST, SUR 167 and REC 127 all destroyed Flushing, Queens along
where he worked at an Ace Paintsstore. He hooked me up with paint and he connected me with CAP. I remember everyone telling me not to go, cause he'll shoot my eye out. Fuck that, I was at war with RTW and figured the more allies, the better. I met up with CAP at the bakery where he worked; Who knows how many people he put in that oven! The next
of the BMT's, IND's and IRT's. My favorite spots to hit trains were the M-yard and the 241 Street yard. GHOST introduced me to that spot and then REC 127 and I got greedy and dogged it. Me and REC use to hide out on the roof to this yard waiting till the workers left, we both hide out in these little cubicles by these giant fans, then when it was all clear jump down and bombed every fuckin train in site. It seemed like we both lived in that place and at times we would provoke
the workers in to chase us and once we lost them go back to bombing. There were nights we both get in there and find all of our shit on every car parked in that spot... it was wild. It was always a pleasure bombing trains with REC, at the 2-yard and the 7-yard (which at times NYE would join us). I remember REC having convulsions over some toy, named
SILVER. I happened to meet this kid before knowing REC had beef with him. Two days later, I saw SILVER, while REC was talking to me about how much he wanted to do some roundhouse shit (or some other method of destroying someones body) that him and SUR 167 were always creating. I said Yo Tony (REC) there is SILVER“. REC said "NEO, don't bullshit
(Graffiti cops from the 7-line), but we saw them coming and ran out of there. One time we“ were bombing insides and I told REC, "Yo, my shadow ain't jumping like I'm doing now, but it's running this way". That was a really funny night. He was very good dude and will be missed by many who knew him.
The writers I went bombing with were GHOST, CAP, REC 127, GATO1, SUR 167, DUTCH, EA, NEV 67, DA /DASH, SCAM TDS, LOST, CRO, SAINT, SLOAN, DERK / LOOK, ZONEY and his younger brother NYE, SLOAN, CHINO, SIN and INGY and then later with VEN, REAS and STANE. DASH who was doing DA throw-ups also wrote YG for a short while. DASH was GHOST’s piecing buddy after PEAK disappeared to dwell in his little room, in Ridgewood, Queens. DASH was always saying "oh shit", tagging and studying old school styles, and dealing with his writing partner DUTCH who had a million cats (and a father he always cursed at). Recently, I saw DASH who is still the same saying "oh shit" and playing that "I forgot to meet you routine". But DASH your still okay, cause mainly, you bombed the 4’s, M's, RR's, G's, and D's.
I changed my throwies as I got more developed as years went by, but I'm sure people knew what it said when I use to dog their shit. I did tons of throwie's at the D yards. That place is like a supermarket for graffiti artists, It seemed it went on forever. They had riddgies, flats, bulldogs. I used to do MPC style throwies but have no photographs of them, very few of the capital N... NEO throwies, the elongated NEO's as you see me with SCAM . And the original fat girl ass lower case N,s in the beginning. They looked like an ass on a Dominican chic, or a fat mamma has. I use to kill shit with REC on the 7's, 2's and 5's, and kingston layup hitting 3's,1's, and 4's with those style throwies.
The war we had with RTW was all thanks to GHOST and his way of making friends, wherever he went. Once you're down with a crew, you have to back them up, so I figured what the hell. I remember when that dumb-ass "Ghostbusters"
dumb-ass, zooted bitches trying to shoot, stab, or throw various shit at me because I am now a cop. I don't give a shit about anything, except my family and friends. If a person wants to bring up old shit, crippled or not, I'm there.
Raid stories? I have plenty of them. In 1980, GHOST, SUR, REC, LOST, and myself went to 241st Street yard. It was freezing that day and all my cans kept exploding, therefore I had more frozen paint on my hands, than on the damn trains. We were there for over 2 hours and then we got raided by workbums (transit workers). Everyone separated and eventually would meet by the wall. I remember going underneath the train and then the train started to move. I was thinking, oh fuckin great...first the paint messes up and now this. We all got to the wall, and GHOST had everyone start climbing. I think SUR kept slipping on the dirt and ice mixture, where your hands and feet had to go, to climb up. I fell off that fuckin thing. It was at least a 4 story climb, straight up. After we all got up on the elevated tracks, we had to walk (actually run) to the station that was frozen with ice and seemed a mile away. I told GHOST that I would go with him, but I had to be home before my father had a shit-fit. GHOST assured me that it was no problem, and watched me looking at my clock all the way home until it was 2 in the morning. Yo, that shit wasn't funny. As soon as those cans exploded, I should have left.
I remember GATO, CRO and myself were ripping up the 1 yard for at least an hour, and then all you saw was a whole lot of blue uniforms coming our way. CRO was lucky enough to climb down a cable (that would have cut your hands
Street, underground lay-up. We spent around 2 hours down there. As a Graffiti artist, you not only get raided by cops, but also by the community. All of us were about to get on a bus to head home, when GATO needed to get a drink. Just before missing that bus, about 10 people were telling us to get out of their neighborhood. GATO gave them a few choice words. As we were coming out of the deli, about one hundred red necks, yes here in New York (not only down in the south), came out of the local) pizzeria, bowling alley, and who knows where else. One big, fat "guido" came out and counted to 3 and then said "You ready boys?" CRO got punched first, GATO got away, NEV hit two in the head with bottles, COAL took off, and I helped CRO, by punching that fat piece of shit. The next thing I knew, I was alone getting kicked from behind in my legs, my back, my head, while these blind, dumb-ass rednecks chanted "Nigger and Spic". Now as far as I know, I am white...perhaps I got too much of a tan that summer. But nonetheless, they were the pieces of crap I enjoyed arresting, later on in my career. All I remember, was winding up on a bus, heading home.
I went to bomb with GHOST, DA / DASH and DUTCH in the M yards out by Ridgewood, Queens. We mainly looked to do some pieces, but then it started raining. We did insides instead, until all these nice, brand new, clean cars came in the yard. It's amazing what wet paint, over more wet paint could do in the rain, lets just say it’s like putting butter on hot toast...completely unrecognizable. I wound up leaving early that night. While going towards the platform, a fucking train was coming and I had nowhere to go. I, like an intelligent person, hung on to the wooden planks of the tracks dangling over the streets of Ridgewood. Yo, I had to fuckin swing like a monkey to get my ass back on the tracks, of course I was hanging there for over 5 minutes, which sounds like a short amount of time, but trust me I wanted to let go.The last time I bombed was with GHOST in the 7 yards. After that, I became a cop. "Sorry, but I needed a job".
I would like to Thank to Subway Outlaws for allowing me to tell my story. I'd like to give props to my boys DERA, SEOD and to my old home boys SUR 167, DASH / DA, GHOST, REC 127 ( R.i.p ), DUTCH, CRO, LOOK / DERK, NEV 67, SO TDK, SCAM TDS, INGY RIS, KADO 7, CAP, LOST, SIN RIS, ZONEY, NYE, SLOAN, SAINT, EA, VEN, REAS, STANE, MIRO, CHINO and COPE 2. -" THE NATION OF GRAFF. "
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