Exploding dog graffiti, Newtown

(Buckland Lane, Newtown, Sydney)

Acid Midget reader bag has sent us another Slug piece he found, this one in Newtown.

It is similar to the one we posted the other week. Seems Slug is finding more squalid, deserted locations for his pieces and spends more time on them.

Do you think he works so fast with such varied imagery that sometimes his subconscious does the work?

Can a writer prepare for a piece like this, or does their mind 'vomit' it out?

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SHORT FICTION: Slug graffiti dog

(Graffiti by Slug at Oxford St, Bondi Junction, Sydney)

Today I asked a police officer for information. He said "I'm new here, I'm not the best person to speak to."

I asked if there was someone else that would help. "Not really, I'm not sure who would be able to".

He said it'd be better to send something to him in writing. He'd help me that way, he said. "Here, send it to this fax number."

I wrote the fax number down and asked if there was also an email I could reach him on. "Use that for now," he said.

I said thanks and hung up.

I called a neighbouring police station and spoke to an officer at the switchboard. I explained my story to her, what I was after, and that the other officer had asked me to send a fax.

She laughed. I laughed with her, enjoying the irony like it was a sugared almond.

"Ah-ha. Well. Their station also covers ours, so if he doesn't want to say anything, then I'd be pretty stupid to."

I said thanks and hung up.

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Gerald the Dog is back in Sydney

(Esther Lane, Surry Hills)

Remember Gerald the Dog? That poor pup poured his life away after meeting some hipster dogs. Last we heard there weren't any new Gerald bombs popping up in Sydney.

Then I found this where the last one was, behind the Ray Hughes Gallery.

**UPDATE**

Colin left a comment saying these pieces were by Slug. Obviously if slug were to pick a name for this character, it would be Gerald the Dog.

Seems Gerald lost his shit even more than last time. Previously he was a drug addict, having gone stray after partying too hard.

Now he has used condoms poking through his eye sockets like ghosts of lovers past who are back to haunt him. Semen seeps down his face, his lashing tongue and gnashing jaw unable to hide the agony.

(Fitzroy St, Surry Hills)

Here he is again, in the same style on the Hopetoun Hotel. This is a fitting bomb for the Hoey - it has all of us feeling a bit blue.

Will the Hopetoun ever reopen? Is anyone friends with Justin Hemmes on Facebook?

This was also at the right of the frame:

It's the lips flower we've spotted around town. So many delicate pink petals, so snatch-like, so fragrant.

This image - don't ask me why - reminds me of the models featured in Robert Palmer's track Addicted to Love. I remember being very young and very confused about the overtly sexual imagery in the video clip. It drew me in and I didn't understand why.

Now it's happening all over again.

(Image source)

To jog your memory about the lips flower here's a piece from the previous post:

(Grafton Street, Chippendale, Sydney)

PREVIOUS COVERAGE:

Gerald the Dog

gerald the dog

(Esther Ln, Surry Hills)

Gerald the Dog was always agreeable. He lived in Surry Hills with his owner and was known about town for his youthful optimism and yellow skin. He stayed close to his owner’s feet around the home and up and down Bourke and Crown Sts, to defend him from harm.

Gerald was tidy and well-mannered. He always took his dishes to the kitchen, occasionally loaded them in the Miele dishwasher or even did them manually, propped on a bar stool while scrubbing in yellow rubber gloves. He always scooped his own shit too. He placed it in sealed bags and remembered to drop those turd stones (they were yellow like his skin) in the bin every night, after drinking his hot milo.

Aside from productive days at dog training school - where Gerald learnt gymnastics, Latin and classical piano – he also had an active social life filled with weekly dinner functions, dogtail parties and $1000-a-head fundraisers.

(Crown Ln, Darlinghurst)

But Gerald’s life quickly fell to pieces.

On meeting a group of hipster-puppies from Newtown that "partied", Gerald’s fortunes began to unravel.

He began drinking heavily and experimented with drugs. One night he managed to rack a five-gram bag of meow meow before "going inter-spieces" in an orge with a pink poodle, LaPerm cat and a heavily tattooed goldfish.

After partying with these puppies for a few months Gerald was expelled from dog training school, became a stray and had several bitches up the duff. He was addicted to a concoction of drugs, most notably meth, and scavenged for money as a "ladydog" outside Campbell House, giving tug jobs between methadone hits.

You might say poor Gerald’s life went to the dogs.

Woof.