My Bag

This blog is an ode to my bag.  It is a couriers bag and has always been through it manifestations.  There have been three.  The first I received in high school.  It had been my fathers.  I don't remember it perfectly anymore.  It was a dark navy blue on the flap that opens,  the rest was black with gray inside.  It was made by a company in Boston,  their symbol was Hermes I think walking away naked with a courier bag slung over his shoulder.  I lost that bag on the Williamsburg bridge in 2001,  my bike had blown a tube in the lower east side,  it was late and I was walking it back to Classon street.  I got to the Brooklyn side,  the top of this long ramp that slops down to the street. (it's not there anymore) These two guys beckoned me over,  I shrugged my shoulders and walked over to them.  One of them whipped a knife to my throat. I don't remember being particularly scared I never believed they would hurt me. They wanted my money obviously.  I believe it amounted to about a buck fifty,  it might of been less.  So I don't remember when they got my bag,  but they got it and rode down that ramp with it.  I yelled after them,  because there were people walking up the ramp,  like three or four people.  No one really did or said anything.  And that was that.  My bag was gone.  It was full at the time because I had just dumpstered all this bread.  That was the joke,  that my dumpstered food was good enough to steal.  So I walked home.  Looked for my bag in the alleyways around there the next day,  but nothing.  My bag,  a sketch pad,  some pens and pencils,  a cassette walkman,  and bread.  But the bag itself was hard to get over.  Until my budy Sayre gave me his old courier sack.  It has a yellow water proof coated inside,  and a black canvas on the outside.  The only thing that frustrated me was it didn't have snaps,  It had these straps that you had to loop through a metal clasp and then reloop it back and underneath.  So it slowed you down,  but I love that bag,  I have had it repaired,  and only finally made it my secondary about eight months ago.  It doesn't have a name so I cannot give it a toast,  but I can poor some beer out on the curb for it.  Thanks Sayre.  Now we arrive at the present day.  I bought this bag of f my bud Arrianne.  Now I say bought,  but she sold it to me for about half what she paid for it.  Yeah I know.  And this feline is a high class courier bag.  Black on black in black,  Like night rider.  All I got to do is install the moving red light that talks.  actually the symbol is red,  It's sorta like a hawks profile and a P.
       Now why my bag.  My bag is always with me.  I am part tortoise,  part marsupial.  I have hitchhiked,  moved,  traveled and been all over the country,  and some of the world.  I go out to coffee shops almost every day.  And each and every day there has been one of these three bags slung over my shoulder.  I wear my bag straight across,  wedged over my shoulders.  I wore it the same way in NYC.  that's for walking long distances,  no better way,  'cause there is little weight actually on your shoulders.  Oh yeah  I carry weight,  Sketch pad Twenty odd comic pages I'm working on,  pens,  pencils,  now my computer,  maybe a spare layer and a snack.  Yeah it's heavy,  and I've been miles. But this is my bag,  this is my companion,  been around more then any friend,  more then any lady,  family member.  Been physically attached to me more than anything has or will be in my entire life.  I continue to travel,  and plan to go all over the wold,  and if you ever see me,  chances are I'll have my bag slung over my shoulder,  or someone will have a gun to my head,  'cause a knife ain't gonna be enough next time.