The CITGO Gas Station Sign I

This evening marked the beginning of an Independent Art Study; may I have your sign for the purposes of art?

The attendant was sitting behind the glass. He wore colored lenses. I asked him if I could have this large, white sign for CITGO gas that was on the side of the business. The signs were next to the trash. I wanted to take the sign to an art gallery for them to hang on the wall. I thought about the movie Trash Humpers.

We picked up some pizza. The pizza joint was located next to Mediterrano and covered in soft lighting. The other structure in the building was for a therapeutic health practice. The first row of parking spaces in front of the Cottage Inn were for the delivery drivers. The row of spaces was empty. We took the food home and talked about Lean 6 Sigma. The sign was waiting near the gas station.

Once, I met a gas station attendant who told me that it was a dream. He made noises like the pow-pow of guns when he was bored. I asked him if anyone there had ever been robbed. He said no one had and pointed at the glass. The glass was thick, rainbow, and looked like light. It was a long walk to head from HQ to a gas station.

The sign turned out to be immensely heavy. A friend and I slugged it on our shoulders to our domicile. We had to stop frequently. I was carrying the sign by the "C" and he was dragging the "O." We tried to walk out of sight behind trees. We had permission to take the sign, but cars kept slowing down. I realized that this sign was going to be site for the misunderstanding of a century. A minivan playing loud music halted in the middle of the thoroughfare.

We crept quietly along a cul-de-sac where sunflowers swayed in the dark rain. He wanted to drop the sign. I took a strap from my jacket and wove it through the "C." The adventure reminded me of what I would have imagined going t.p.ing felt like as an adolescent. On one block, a lady started to walk her two dogs in our direction. They wouldn't stop barking and she went inside her home. She had one of those pumpkins that was carved to look like vomiting. I thought the pumpkin and small dogs were aptly suited to compactness of the sidewalk space.

We were almost there. The big water tower was obscured by the houses. The ground was covered in a film of leaves. I looked relative to my own direction. There was a house where the occupants were all already wearing Halloween costumes.

They said, "Now, that's a scavenger hunt. They stole a CITGO sign!"

The wee little dogs kept yapping, their beer pong game continued into the night, and that is how, I believe, we might have accumulated a sign to pass on. I want to see what happens to this in the same way that I think someone did about dollar bills.

I wonder what it would take to do a geocache about one used gas station sign that's about 10 feet long. I'm thinking of the whole "Where's George" campaign and how that revealed interesting patterns in the flux of human movement with currency. Any further updates about the CITCO sign will be noted in regards to #independentstudyproject and accompanied with a numerical value.