This is how rumors spread.

Like most people in Pittsburgh, I was informally introduced to “Mook.”

In August of 2001, when I first came to Pittsburgh, I quickly came to know him as a legend by his greatest work: “MOOK” spray painted on the top of the tower on the 10th St. bridge that connects Downtown and Southside -- it is an impossible sight to describe without seeing it. I remember saying to myself, “Wow, now that is pretty incredible.” It really is.

It makes your stomach turn into knots and you lips smile with reverence for the person who had the balls to actually climb, literally, a few thousand feet above the Monongahela River, and out onto a two foot wide cat walk just to tag their name for all of Pittsburgh to see. It could be considered both the most self-centered but most cool thing in the world depending on how you want to look at it -- I thought it was both.

About a year and a half later, I was more formally introduced. Dana introduced me to her friend Michael at the Beehive one night while I was there working on a paper. When he walked away to get a drink she whispered in my ear, “Its Mook.” It was as if she thought she was the coolest individual in the world because she got to hang out with him; yet, she just wanted to be subtle about it. I thought it was fucking lame.

I looked at it like I wasn’t popular or cool enough for her. I wasn’t famous, so it wouldn’t be me. I wasn’t jealous. I just thought it was stupid. She would rather fuck some Pittsburgh super hero than be with me. I thought she was stupid.

To make a long story short, a few months later when we were drunk, I told her to “fuck off” and that was the end of it -- that was in March. I haven’t spoken to her since.

Today is September 20 -- it is her 21st Birthday. I was going to call her to wish her a happy birthday, but about five minutes ago I read in Anjee’s diary that two night ago, Michael as I was formally introduced, Mook to the rest of you, was killed while trying to tag a train.

I guess if you look at it logically this kid -- who as far as I know was only 20-year-old -- had been tempting fate for a few years, and was going to die sooner or later trying to be famous. I doubt that’s how Dana looks at it right now. I don’t know, its just one of those things that still hits you inside. I never knew Michael at all, I met him once, but I knew Mook. Dana knew Michael. I wonder if she hurts inside right now.

I just don’t think right now would be the time to apologize for the shit that has been between us for the past six months and to wish her a happy birthday. I guess I will wait until January.

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