Friday

. . . memorized key passages in the U.S. Army Survival Guide . . .
. . . sliding Polaroid photos under the door to you . . .

Wednesday

PLAYS OF THE WEEK: We suck in football, we suck in hockey, who knows what’ll happen in b-ball, but we’re number one in fuckin people up.

HIGHLIGHTS from the Washington D.C. Police Crime Blotter

12/12/2003
2300 Hours
ROBBERY - Gun
2300 Block SKYLAND PL SE
CCN #03172051
C1 (BM 72YRS) REPORTS S1-S2 APPRO. S1 DEMANDED CASH, S2 PUNCHED C1, THEN S1 SHOT C1 IN THE FOREHEAD WITH A SMALL SEMI/AUTO HANDGUN. S1-S2 TOOK VARIOUS PROP FROM C1 AND FLED IN C1'S VEH. C1 TAKEN TO MEDSTAR, ADMITTED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/12/2003
1200 Hours
ROBBERY - Fear
SHERIDAN RD SE & BOWEN RD SE
CCN #03171766
C1 (BM 15YRS) REPORTS S1-S3 APPRO AND S1 DEMANDED C1'S COAT, C1 FEARED,S1-S3 WAS GOING TO HARM HIM AND GAVE THEM VARIOUS PROPERTY AND RAN HOME.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/12/2003
1800 Hours
ROBBERY - Gun
3500 Block 22ND ST SE
CCN #03171998
C1 (BM 39YRS) REPORTS S1-S2 APPRO. AND BOTH PROD.HANDGUNS, DEMANDED CASH. S1 THEN TOLD S2 TO DUCT TAPE C1'S HANDS AND ANKLES. C1 STATED THAT HE HAD KIDS. S1 STATED, "LET HIM RIDE." S1-S2 TOOK VARIOUS PROPERTY THEN FLED IN AN NK. DIR.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/14/2003
000 Hours
SEX ABUSE - Adult 1st
3200 Block 22ND ST SE
CCN #03172516
C1 (BF 23YRS) REPORTS S1-S2 DRAGGED HER INTO THE WOODED AREA THEN SEXUALLY
ASSAULTED HER AND ROBBED HER OF VARIOUS PROPERTY. C1 TAKEN TO HUH, S1-S2 FLED UNK. DIRECTION.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/14/2003
300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
1900 Block RIDGECREST CT SE
CCN #03172548
{DV} C1 (BF 32YRS) REPORTS THAT, DURING A VERBAL ALTERCATION, S1 (HER CHILDREN'S FATHER) PRODUCED A SILVER HANDGUN AND THREATENED TO KILL C1. S1 ALSO THREATENED TO BURN C1'S APART.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/12/2003
900 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
1300 Block CONGRESS ST SE
CCN #03171677
{DV} C1 (BF 44YRS) REPORTS THAT DURING A VERBAL ALTERC., S1 (HER DAUGHTER) GRABBED A FORK AND ATTEMPTED TO STAB C1. C1 HAD TO BE RESTRAINED BY FAMILY MEMBERS. CASE CLOSED WITH ARREST.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/12/2003
1800 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
2900 Block 8TH ST SE
CCN #03171911
C1 (BF 26YRS) REPORTS DURING A ALTERC., S1 PROD. A KNIFE AND STABBED C1 IN THE LEFT SHOULDER. C1 TAKEN TO HUH BY AMB #26. CASE CLOSED WITH ARREST.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/13/2003
000 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
2000 Block 14TH ST SE
CCN #03172045
{DV} C1 (BM 48YRS) REPORTS DURING A VERBAL ALTERC., S1-S2(HIS WIFE AND HIS
BROTHER-IN-LAW) JUMPED C1 WHILE HE WAS LAYING IN BED. S1 (HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW)
STRUCK C1 IN THE FACE WITH A METAL PIPE, KNOCKING OUT HIS TOOTH.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/14/2003
2300 Hours
ROBBERY - Assault w/Intent
2800 Block LANGSTON PL SE
CCN #03172805
C1 (BM 43YRS) REPORTS WHILE WALKING, S1-S4 DROVE IN A BLK. UNK. VEH. S1 STATED,
"GIVE IT UP." C1 REFUSED AND ONE OF THE SUSPECTS SHOT HIM IN THE RIGHT ARM. THE VEH FLED, WITH S1-S4. C1 TAKEN TO GWH BY AMB #32.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/15/2003
1100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
2600 Block STANTON RD SE
CCN #03172963
C1 (BF 35YRS) & C2 (BF 19YRS) REPORT DURING A VERBAL ALTERC. S1 (C1'S BROTHER AND C2'S UNCLE) PROD. A HANDGUN AND POINTED AT C1-C2 AND STATED, "IF YOU STEP OUTSIDE, I WILL KILL YOU." CASE CLOSED WITH ARREST.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/15/2003
600 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
1300 Block CONGRESS ST SE
CCN #03172868
C1 (BF 21YRS) REPORTS DURING A VERBAL ALTERC. S1, HER BOYFRIEND, SLAPPED HER, THEN KICKED HER IN THE BODY WITH HARD BOOTS. C1 IS PREGNANT WITH S1'S CHILD.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/15/2003
1600 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
4600 Block MARTIN LUTHER KING JR AVE SW
CCN #03173091
C1 (BF 42YRS) REPORTS DURING A VERBAL ALTERC S1, HER BOYFRIEND, PULLED THE PHONE CORD OUT OF THE WALL AND ATTEMPTED TO STRANGLE C1 WITH IT. CASE CLOSED WITH ARREST.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/15/2003
1600 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
4600 Block QUARLES ST NE
CCN #03173163
C1 WAS FOUND IN THE ALLEY IN A CONSCIOUS MANNER SUFFERING FROM SEVERAL GUNSHOTS TO THE LOWER BACK. TRANSPORTED TO PG HOSPITAL. {AWIK} AREA CANVASSED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/15/2003
300 Hours
ROBBERY - Snatch
900 Block EASTERN AVE NE
CCN #03172859
A 7 ELEVEN CASHIER WAS REMOVING MONEY FROM A CASH REGISTER. S1 REACHED OVER THE COUNTER, GRABBED $40, AND RAN N/B ON SHERIFF ROAD INTO P.G. COUNTY. {COMM} AREA CANVASSED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/13/2003
100 Hours
ROBBERY - Assault w/Intent
3000 Block NAYLOR RD SE
CCN #03172102
C1 (BM 39YRS) REPORTS S1-S2 APPRO. C1 AND S1 STATED, "GIVE ME YOUR MONEY." C1 DID NOT COMPLY AND TOOK OFF RUNNING. C1 HEARD THREE GUN SHOTS AND REALIZED HE HAD BEEN SHOT IN THE BACK. C1 TAKEN TO HUH BY AMB.#19.S1-S2 OBTAINED NOTHING.

Tuesday

People who are crazy don't tell you they hear voices in their heads, they just do the crazy assignments the voices give them. My voices tell me to act normal, to bottle up all frustrations, go to work and write some things down, eat cookies - love a woman { but pinch my nipples hard enough, and you know what will come out? The urge to chew the head off of some patient stranger offering friendly advice about rolling around in broken glass and burning myself - that's what. People love to brag about their ability to discern sneaky behavior, so I act like I'm stealing water out of the water fountain, drinking with a dirty tongue, waiting for somebody to look at me so I can scurry away laughing like a mental patient. People love to blog about behavior. - - a few trips to the junk yard and a few courses at a technical college and I'll be able to build an army of skull cracking, brain slurping automatons - if I stand on the roof of a crematorium next to the chimney maybe I can net a few souls to install in them, or I can sell my own ass - right on ebay - buy my ass, somebody. Buy it real good.

Monday

I love finding toys. I think it's good luck. Little pieces of youth return to you in this way. Right now in my cubicle I have many different plastic soldiers, a Micro Machine car – one of those tiny cars, a machine gun that goes to some kind of action figure – an M-60, a skateboard truck from one of those tiny skateboards you ride on with your index finger and middle finger and do little tricks, and a little plastic monkey whose arms and legs move. I usually find them beside the street or in a parking lot. They’re scraped up and abandonned, and there’s no way to get them back to the kid, so none of that “Damn, Bobby. Taking kids’ toys now? How cruel.” Anyway – I lost my share of toys when I was a kid. I hope adults found them and lived a little longer because of it.

Sunday

A Purple Splash of Paint on the On Ramp

There was a purple paint spill on the on-ramp to the highway I took to work every day. I love purple. I see it in the exhausted yet still squirming chemical residue light blur at night driving down the road or walking down the road. I don't know the meaning of purple: biblical, secular, art historical. Purple for me is the life or light that leaks out of the form of the expected structure - purple is blood. I don't know how else to say it. It spills out of my optic nerve when there are no other visuals making any sense to me. Exhausted flashback. Stoned or drunk light leaking from the containment of my visual expectation of shape, leaking from shape. Connecting everything - connecting energy from every energy source to every other energy source. Purple is life, I guess. Comforting me, clarifying purple arising, bleeding, sweating from a long day that has died off into an interesting night. It's a funky old pimped out color - a color with a sense of humor. But it is noble. It is potent. Purple can be a surprise. It is all colors combined. It melts and impacts the negatives reeling in my eyeballs. That paint spill seemed to occupy a plane slightly above the actual roadway. It made no turbulence in my suspension as I passed over it day after day. It altered my vision, adjusted it proper for a clear and sane day of viewing. The shape of that paint spill definitely conveyed a 45 mile-per-hour and accelerating G-Force scenario of vandalism and escape into highway congested anonymity. Maybe some tripper sat in the bed of a speeding pick-up truck, and he threw a can of that paint out the back, and it exploded on the pavement, "Wew!!!" I wish I could have seen it! A paint explosion - what's more vivid than a paint explosion? The blob of paint in mid air beating gravity momentarily reaching out with growing blob arms and legs tumbling and traveling in mid air, sprouting out in all directions, and then it dives and splats on the pavement. Damn! I saw the paint stain while I was tripping on acid. After driving over it a million times on a sober head, one day I drove over it tripping on acid, and the experience added a dimension, altered its hue, energized it, electrified it, animated it - it was the same paint stain - the same shape - but something new emerged from it or emerged within my perception of it. Days, weeks, months and years after that trippy day, the added hue or added frequency or wave or additional energy was still visible to me as those chemicals diffused into my spinal fluids never to leave, and that vision squirted into my mind swirl, becoming an active ingredient. That spill stayed there on the pavement a long ass time, it might still be there right now - I have since moved away. Who will go to the trouble of re-paving a road just because of a paint spill? I think other folks loved that spill and depended on it as much as I did. It was accidentally beautiful, or I wonder if it was intentional. Did a paint can just fall off a truck? Or some art student or some commercial painter or some psychology experimenter or some visuals donor or whoever thought about it and did it, "I'm going to make a mark. A beautiful purple mark."

Everybody should do that.

Everybody should dump a can of paint on a road somewhere.
Just as the so called ‘civilized' man builds his home next to nature or some resource or fruitful place, the super civilized man makes his home next to the works of man - and finds his living in the folly of man, the surplus and the inefficiency and the carelessness. In other words, he digs through his trash and steals any unsecured object laying around the property and picks up discarded items around town.

+ Live in the woods next to a driving range. Collect all the stray golf balls that the hacks slice off into the woods and sell them by the bucket.

+ Build musical instruments with objects and scraps I find beside the road. Play tunes for the tourists and let them fill my hat with money.

+ Build a small plywood shack on a flat push cart - carts like those you see listing along in hardware super store parking lots. Three small walls, a small door and a ceiling - all nailed together and attached with wire to the push cart. My sleeping bag thrown in there and my clothes. Wheeling my home down the sidewalk.

Wednesday

not much to say - not worried about it - an empty head is a receptive head

Sunday

Toothpaste was one of his only requirements of the civilized world. Hand soap could be found in off ramp gas station bathrooms without too much interaction with civilized beings. Hand soap could be used for deodorant, though it stung the arm pits a bit. Just slather some up under the arm pit, and you're stink free for the day. Hand soap lathered up well for shaving, if he had a razor. Hand soap could be used for hair shampoo, though it dried the hair and the scalp a bit. Hand soap could be used to wash clothes. There was no substitute for tooth paste, however. Once a month or so, he would go into town to beg for a little money. He would use the proceeds to buy a few tubes of toothpaste. It did not take long to raise the sum required. People walked by him as he panhandled. Many refused him. Maybe they thought he would just use the money for booze or drugs, or they were greedy or wary or just wanted to remain oblivious. He would just smile at them with his bright, white, healthy teeth and ask the next passer by.

whole story

Tuesday

I might be broke as hell - barely able to maintain a residence and eat - but I can still buy a red ink pen and wield all the authority that goes with it - and equip myself at the Army Navy Store - and go in the trophy shop and buy a trophy with the words " World's Best Human Being : All Categories " - and buy a blank certificate and certify myself able to perform open pants surgery - but I think I've exhausted all my merits on this subject, on this better than better horse shit. -INSTEAD- I'm going to slide under the fence with as much property as I can steal.

Sunday

Either somebody has gone insane, or there's some supernatural shit going on around here.
Each Garment Is a Thought

I worked as a temp stocking up a brand new Burlington Coat Factory, setting up the store right before it opened for the holidays a couple of years ago. The store had just been built. I helped in the child coats section first. I must have carried a million little kid coats - really weird and funny - these little shiney coats made of such crisp starch new stiff material stuffed so full of feather filling that the arms on these little kid coats stuck straight out from the bodies even as they hung on the little hangers - as though there was already a little kid in the coat and the kid was trying to give you a hug - I picked up stack after stack of these and carried them - carried thousands of these little coats to racks and hung them up. All different colors and textures and sheens and some with little hoods and mittens attached. I also assembled dressing rooms, prefabricated, pre cut and pre finished panels of wood and instructions included, this peg here, hinge door there, screw this under there, the seats the mirrors and stick on stickers bewaring of shoplifters being prosecuted. Just like little apartment houses I was building - door next to door next to door - I'd get tired and hide in there a while and rest, and I wondered if I could just hide out in the dressing room until the store was set up and opened up in two months and just pop out. I worked in a massive massive warehouse with hundreds of clothing racks, racks on wheels, full of all kinds and colors and cuts of clothes. I was stranded in a maze of clothes racks. Workers came along and wheeled them away, and it was a maze - a maze of walls - but the walls were moving every minute - the walls of clothes swirling and waving, clothes which were constantly moving and disappearing and wheeling away and reappearing and you didn't know where you were within the massive massive warehouse because your multicolored surroundings were constantly changing and you were crammed in there, lost among a million million garments unable to see over the tops of the wisps of fabric, like a theater stage with the only performance being the actual opening of curtains to the opening of another set of curtains which will open to another set of curtains which itself, too, will open and the whole performance is just one opening of fabric after another, or sliding set constructions of cloth slipping on by and gliding layers of fabric making surprisingly little noise for the amount of visual commotion you are witnessing and it is spontaneous performance art and it would be a beautiful play - inadvertent art - or organic like I was eaten and I'm now passing through the fabric folds of intestines - or like being born and I'm passing through the fabric of a birth canal - or geologic like mining a fabric mountain - or like bobbing in an ocean of fabric - a storm surge, and I see other folks drowning in it too - or all space is but fabric - the fabric of space is the fabric of fabric - and I'm out there in it - or it is time and I'm passing through it, I'm passing hours, days and years and these fabric garments are the ticks of a clock, the pages of a calender - or - I AM DEAD, and I'm making much more out of it than is actually there, blowing my surroundings out of proportion and imagination = the fabric of my own coffin = and there I am with wild visions pulsing and spitting in my rotting, dead brain - outfits and dresses and skirts and blazers and shirts and pants and tumble and dance and zooming by, and sleeves and pant legs swinging up synchronized, a chorus line and rippling in the momentum and hips of pants and skirts boggie down on the rack wheeling along to be wheeled in front of me and, uh oh, that one fell off the hanger and "Put price tags on these please." And away they go, chaos and color and you hear voices a few feet away but you can not see for all the clothes hanging in the way and then you catch a glimpse of another confused worker between two London Fogs and there seems to be no method to any of the madness just more and more clothes coming in to be processed, eighteen wheelers back up to the dock and out come boxes and the clothes - the clothes jump out of the boxes, and workers unwrap them, put them on hangers, hang them on racks, the racks wheel away like a trolley taking pedestrian clothes to the next processing place - wheeled up to me and behind me and I do my thing and turn around to the next rack and then the next and a new rack comes into view between two suits on the rack I am tagging - tagging each and every sweater and then setting it free into the wild with a warm word of encouragement and an earnest hope for its species and I goof off a little - jump on the bottom bar of the clothes rack and hold on the top bar and push off like I'm on a skateboard, a skateboard full of nightgowns and slips and other foofy stuff like that and wheeling and wheeling and I'm skating like that and somebody says, "Ha ha. Look at that guy."

Thursday

I'm pathetic. The most worthwhile thing I can think of to motivate me to lift my ass out of this chair and stumble into the world outside of my cubicle (and write about) is an Hostess French Apple Pie I saw in the snack machine earlier. Somebody's probably already gotten it.

Wednesday

UPSIDE YOUR HEAD: Washington D.C. Police Crime Blotter


PSA 703
11/3/2003
800 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
1200 Block SUMNER RD SE
CCN #03153520
C1 (BF 16YRS) REPORTS WHILE WALKING TO SCHOOL, SHE WAS INVOLVED IN A VERBAL ALTERC. WITH S1. S1 PICKED UP A STICK AND STRUCK C1 IN THE BODY. S1 THEN STATED THAT IF HE HAD HIS GUN, HE WOULD SHOOT HER. S1: BM 16YRS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 704
11/1/2003
1400 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
3400 Block 23RD ST SE
CCN #03152619
C1 (BM 11YRS) REPORTS THAT S1 DRAGGED HIM INTO THE ALLEY THEN PUNCHED HIM AND STOMPED HIM IN THE HEAD AND FACE SEVERAL TIMES. S1 STATED THAT C1 WAS TRYING TO TAKE HIS DOG. C1 HAD A SOLE PRINT ON HIS FACE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 706
11/3/2003
800 Hours
STOLEN AUTO - Stolen Auto
100 Block XENIA ST SE
CCN #03153401
C1 (22YRS) REPORTS HE LEFT HIS VEHICLE RUNNING WITH THE KEYS IN THE IGNITION, AND RAN INSIDE HIS APART. SOME UNK. SUSPECTS STOLE HIS VEHICLE. KEYS AND REG IN THE VEHICLE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 708
11/3/2003
2300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
200 Block OAKWOOD ST SE
CCN #03153735
C1 (BM 45YRS) REPORTS S1 APPRO. AND STATED, "YOU OWE ME TWELVE DOLLARS." S1 THEN PICKED UP A STICK AND STRUCK C1 IN THE HEAD. S1 FLED THE SCENE. C1 TAKEN TO GSECH BY AMB #25.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 709
11/3/2003
000 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Club
800 Block CHESAPEAKE ST SE
CCN #03153260
C1 (BM 50YRS) REPORTS S1 CALLED HIM TO COME TO HIM. C1 COMPLIED, THEN S1 BEGAN STRIKING C1 WITH A BASEBALL BAT IN THE FACE AND BODY. S1 THEN FLED THE SCENE, C1 TAKEN TO GSECH BY AMB#18.

Sunday

surprising how little I'll say

Saturday

I'll get some really long rubber boots. I'll walk out into fountains and scoop up big handfulls of change. Those really bright lights used to illuminate flag poles and monuments - they're pretty hot - I'll cook cans of beans on them bright lights.

Wednesday

Your sanity is like your virginity. No. Your sanity is your virginity.

Tuesday

I'd go insane if it wasn't so embarrassing.


Just sweet.

Monday

What if they forced you to sit there and type up every single memory you can think of from your entire life? Eventually you'd reach the present time, and you'd just be typing this: I was typing. I was typing. I was typing. Now I'm typing. I'm typing. I'm typing.
. . . he's just glad to meet anybody who doesn't make fun of his hair - well - it ain't me! I'll name every species of bird his hair reminds me of.

Saturday

and jump in a pick-up soccer game and make spectacular fake outs and freak outs and score goals and steal the ball and intercept the ball because I been here two years and I got no friends in this shitty city and I barely had any in the place I came from - but it all comes out - it comes out with tears as I hop up and down on the sideline cryin a little trying to warm up and all the despair and all the isolation and just the pure love of the game of soccer and the longing for it and the energy in the air - all mixed together in my gut and my brain - and I'm in a pair of jeans and sneakers and I'm stretching touching my toes hopping and then somebody finally shouts "Hey! You want to play??" because he's got no wind left and they need a fresh guy any guy with fresh legs and lungs and I nod and I run out there and then I explode, steal the ball and haul ass with it and everything is pure glory and speed and agility and skill and physics and geometry and touch and precision - when you are running as fast as you can and you have to slow down mentally and apply just the right amount of boop to the ball so it doesn't get away from you though you are going as fast as you can plotting your course, looking for an open man or an open path and you find it - and for an hour or so I'm out there and they love me - - and I play until it feels like my heart will explode - the body's not in shape but the body will take any order the crazed ball crazed brain will give it and I go and go until it feels like my lungs will blaze out and it feels like I will blow my intestines completely out of my ass and then I lay down on my back and "Great session, man!" and "See you out here next week man!" and I walk away to the subway alone.

Thursday

With all the infinity out there, isn’t it possible that for the trillionth time, a man
pondered the fact that he could meet an exact copy of himself on the internet who for the trillionth time,
pondered the fact that he could meet an exact copy of himself on the internet who for the trillionth time,
pondered the fact that he could meet an exact copy of himself on the internet

Friday

How many people have you met? How many people have you spoken to? How many people have you looked at? How many people have you been in the same room with? In your whole life, I mean.
Only a cop would stop at a green light.
A guy hopped up and down, waving frantically on the sidewalk for the bus to stop. He is spectacular. He looks spectacular – he’s a painter - not art - commercial - but he looks spectacular because his overalls are splashed with paint from his shins to his chest – all in one big splat – a four foot diameter paint burst hit him – it was today, too, because it was on his face, too – all painters got paint all over themselves, day to day they wear their painting clothes with paint all over, but this just happened to this guy today – you can tell. It looked like a paint can exploded right in front of him. It looked like a paint can fell thirty floors and hit the sidewalk and exploded right in front of him.
I saw an old guy in a window as soon as I stepped over the hill on Cherry Lane. I saw him through his window at the retirement community. He was up, and he was headed across his room. It’s about an eighth of a mile from the top of the hill on Cherry Lane to 198, and I watched the guy as I walked that whole distance. He appeared to be watching me too. As I reached 198, an eighth of a mile away, he reached his fridge or whatever across his room.

Thursday

yippee, a gushing vortex is bearing down on me

I once sat in a hurricane on top of a high rise bridge in my car on the metal part of the bridge that opens up to allow ships to go through - just sitting there, because the sign on the bridge was jammed - it was flashing "Bridge Out. Bridge Out." I was blocked in. The drivers of the two cars in front of me were too petrified to continue driving across the bridge, which was clearly not out - you could see it - there it was - it was 'in,' in fact. The bridge straddled that river soundly in all its glory and 'in-ness,' doing its job, offering a route from one river bank to the other, though it sent mixed signals to its beloved users. The wind was so strong, coming up off the river, that my car was sliding a bit across the roadway toward the railing. I could feel the car become weightless and lift slightly and slide to the edge. On top of that, I was stoned as a mare flicker. "I don't want to die here," I remember thinking, "I don't want to be pitched over the side of this bridge into the swirling mess below."

Another time when I was much younger, there was a hurricane and everybody in the house cowered away from every window because we heard a massive piece of sheet metal blasting around in the wind outside. It was making its own thunderous sound, flexing and bending - gliding around like a piece of paper out there. You could hear it smash into chain link fences and cars. It was probably part of one of those aluminum sheds. It was too dark to see, but all night you could hear it thrashing around out there. There was a construction site across the street, and we didn't know what the hell it was. We were terrified it would come slashing through the fuckin' window and decapitate somebody. A fifty foot razor blade fixin' to cut you off like a pubic hair.

Stay safe folks! Keep your cool, and stay safe! Get off that computer. Stay away from the windows. And put some clothes on, for Christ's sake!!!!!

Monday

I was zooming up Interstate 95 with a leap frogging caravan. One guy from the back would race forward and take the pole position and lead and set pace for a while. Then somebody else would jump ahead – pass on the left and jolt foreward to the head of the parade. This same clump of cars working together as a team, an unspoken, understood arrangement and formation assembled by strangers just trying to get home from the weekend – making great time in this way, working as a team, exceeding speed limits by 25 or 30 miles-per-hour – sharing the risk by taking turns out front – our herd keeping the safety of its numbers. I occupied a position in this stack behind this pickup with a cap over the truck bed and no back window in the cap, I was behind this truck for hours, continuously, for the whole trip, except when it was my turn to race forward, but then the pickup jumped ahead of me and so on. In the back of this truck was a little kid, a five or six-year-old boy. He was having a blast back there, dancing around, looking out the window, yelling and singing. We even played pretend gun fight with each other. He fired his plastic M-16 rifle at me, and I pointed my pointer finger at him and cocked my thumb and fired back at him. I let him win each time, I'd grab my chest and make a face like I'd been shot and he'd raise his weapon over his head and chant like victorious warriors do. He got bored with me after a while, and he started poking his head through the little sliding window up to the cab where his dad was driving the truck. Yelling, kicking up his legs, squirming - at one point trying to climb through and, his dad let him have it - verbally. I could see his dad yelling. I could see his face in his own rear view mirror. The kid's ramblings subsided a bit for a while, and he just sat there pouting. He wouldn't even raise his weapon at me. The kid just looked down, frowning at all of the stuff loaded into the truck. The father had really loaded it up. The kid barely had enough crawl room, and that’s why he was so restless, and that’s why his dad was getting so mad at him. There was stuff stacked up just above the edge of the tail gate. There was a big purple plastic toy of some kind right on top. Some kind of outdoor toy, I couldn’t tell what. Maybe it was part of a little slide or some kind of jungle jim set up or a sled or something like that – it was about three feet long and a foot or so wide. Our caravan hit a rather bumpy stretch of road. There was some construction going on in the area. Patches of asphalt were torn out and there were sudden drops and lips and old patches of asphalt lumped up in the road. Our caravan tried to maintain its high speeds, however. We hit one particularly bad spot, a drop off of a few inches followed by some really bumpy old asphalt. The father in the truck ahead of me had his hands full keeping control. The jolt to his vehicle suddenly caused that big plastic toy thing to pop up and fly out the back of the truck! It took my most skilled and lucky and well-timed maneuver to avoid the thing as it hurled at me, bouncing and cartwheeling crazily at me, I swerved left and cut it back before I started fish tailing. I think the object may have hit a car behind me a few cars back in the caravan. The kid went berzerk. He started wailing. His toy had flown out of the truck, and it was the worst thing in the world to him. He started screaming and pointing, poking his head into the cab again. The father had his hands full driving. He screamed at his kid to leave him alone. I could see his eyeballs bulge in his rear view mirror. Again and again, he must have been screaming at the kid, shut up shut up!! Finally the kid sat down and faced me, he faced the disapearing landscape that his toy had flown off into. Its fate lost on the communication break down between himself and his father, lost in the frustration of the road and now beside the road for other travellers to see and think about for a few seconds, for a few fractions of a mile as they passed. The kid was crying up there in the truck, taking big gulps of air and wiping his face on his sleeve. He gradually calmed down, his movement subsided. His head started to nod down. Finally I could not see his face because his head was all the way down, his chin rested on his chest. He was asleep. The sun started to go down.

Thursday

Driving the three hours home to see my sisters, niece and nephews, I was munching on pretzels voraciously, barely taking the time to breath. Tearing them up. I was on a very very remote country road. I mean there's a farm house every now and then, but other than that, there ain't shit. Nothing. Nobody. I wondered what would happen if I started choking on a pretzel out there in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night alone, driving through the country. Write the following on a piece of paper, "I am choking. Punch me in the stomach."

Sunday

On the more isolated stretches of highway, engineers install solar panels to gather sunlight during the day, which is converted to juice that powers the lights that illuminate the signs all night. Well - he got out there at night with a hack saw and a step ladder, and he cut some solar panels off. He hauled them away into the woods. He had quite a few of them. He set up a whole bank of these solar panels, he bolted them to trees. He wired them together so they'd run a battery charger that recharged a whole bank of car batteries. With this juice he would run his television and his VCR. He watched movies all night with the guys in his shack in the woods. He had hundreds of movies that he'd kept from his marriage, some were his favorites, some were his wife's favorites, some they each loved equally.

Love ya
If I disappeared today, only the people I met in the last few days would care. I don't care. I'll pop all the buttons out of this keyboard and eat them. I'll bolt trucks to this keyboard and skate down the road.

Tuesday

I'll dance, Sweetie, if you let me pick the tune.
One time my brother was standing in front of a friend's house with some other guys. They were out there fooling around, and a friend pulled up in his old Volkswagen Bug. The thing was pretty beat - it sputtered and stalled all the time, it had rust holes, and it smoked because of all the oil it was burning. It barely ran. My brother and his friends proceeded to joke on the guy and his car mercilessly. The joke bombardment reached its climax - my brother challenged the guy to a race - the home boy, in his beat old bug and my brother, on foot – they would race only to the corner – the length of two lots - two houses down - for money of course. It seems illogical to challenge a man to a race – you on foot, he, in his car, therefore the betting was frenzied, like before the freakin Kentucky Derby or something. There was a stack of money on the hood of another nearby car when all the wagering was closed. The racers began preparing themselves. My brother hopped up and down, looking around, smiling at everybody. The dude went to the back of his car, to the engine – tinkered around a little. Well, they got on their marks, they got set and they went. They were off. The bug sputtered, it jolted forward, it started to choke and it paused. My brother had already taken six powerful strides and was in the lead. The bug driver found his clutch’s friction point and gave the finicky engine just the right dose of gas, and the bug came up to speed – not evenly. The power of machine over man became apparent, even in this absurd little vehicle – the bug began closing the gap fast with that stupid little roar that Volkswagen Bugs make - the bug was closing in on my brother fast. My brother was only fifteen meters from the corner by this point – and still accelerating. My bro was fast and wirey, and he had long legs. He had killer acceleration for a long-legged guy, and once he was up to speed, fuckin forget it. Nobody in the neighborhood raced him anymore. Anyway, the bug was five feet behind my brother when my brother passed the edge of the corner lot and strode out into the intersection and began to slow down. He'd won. Everybody started yelling and screaming. My brother went back to collect his winnings.

Saturday

young fool
so soon
an old fool
quiet in a loud room

Wednesday

DR.WANG sees it all.

Dr. Wang is always the doctor on duty when there's a homicide victim to pronounce.

More Highlights from the Washington D.C. Police Crime Blotter:
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 708
7/19/2003
300 Hours
HOMICIDE - Homicide
2900 Block 7TH ST SE
CCN #03099226
C1 (BM ADULT) WAS FOUND SUFFERING FROM STAB WOUNDS TO THE CHEST, NECK, ARM & BACK. C1 WAS TRANSPORTED TO MEDSTAR BY MEDIC 32 WHERE HE WAS PRONOUNCED BY DR.WANG @ 0353 HRS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 702
7/5/2003
400 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
2800 Block GAINESVILLE ST SE
CCN #03091734
C1 (BM 22) & C2 (BM 20) REPORTS THAT S1 APPRO C1'S AUTO ARMED W/A HANDGUN STATING, "PUT YOUR HANDS UP." S1 THEN ENT C1'S AUTO & ORDERED C1 TO DRIVE TO A 6D LOCATION.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 703
7/18/2003
1100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
1400 Block HOWARD RD SE
CCN #03098832
C1 (BF 20) REPORTS THAT DURING A VERBAL ALTERCATION W/S1, S1 PROD A KNIFE & CUT HER ON THE LEFT EAR WHILE STATING, "B--CH, I'M GOING TO KIL YOU." S1 AND C1 HAVE A CHILD IN COMMON.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 704
7/18/2003
100 Hours
ROBBERY - Knife
2200 Block SAVANNAH TER SE
CCN #03098711
C1 (BM 20) REPORTS THAT S1-S2 APPRO HIM IN FT OF THE LISTED LOC & THEN FORCED HIM INTO THE LISTED APT AT KNIFE POINT. VARIOUS PROP WAS TAKEN FROM C1 & C1 WAS CUT ON THE THROAT.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 705
7/19/2003
300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
3000 Block STANTON RD SE
CCN #03099213
C1 (BM 30) & C2 (BM 32) REPORTS THAT S1-S10 BEGAN SHOOTING AT THEM. C1 WAS STRUCK IN THE RT ARM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 705
7/20/2003
1700 Hours
BURGLARY - 1
2700 Block ROBINSON PL SE
CCN #03099951
C1 (BF 26) REPORTS THAT SHE LEFT HER SISTER SLEEPING IN HER APT & UNKNOWN SUSP(S) ENT HER APT W/FORCE. VARIOUS PROP WAS STOELN.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 708
7/15/2003
2300 Hours
ROBBERY - Assault w/Intent
200 Block TRENTON PL SE
CCN #03098822
C1 (BM 44) REPORTS THAT S1-S2 APPRO HIM ARMED W/A HANDGUN STATING, "GIVE ME WHAT YOU GOT." S1 THEN STRUCK C1 IN THE FOREHEAD W/THE HANDGUN CAUSING C1 TO FALL. C1 WAS THEN KICKED & PUNCHED ABOUT THE BODY BY S1-S2.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

PSA 709
7/17/2003
1700 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
9TH ST & SOUTHERN AVE SE
CCN #03098404
C1 (BM 35) REPORTS THAT DURING A VERBAL ALTERCATION W/S1, S1 PROD A KNIFE & STABBED HIM IN THE LEFT THIGH. S1 IS UNKNOWN TO C1.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday

Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry? Seems like an absurd question to have to answer when they're telling you that you are terminal. But it is still a question in need of an answer.

FOUR!!!

More plays of the week from the Washington D.C. Police Crime Blotter:

PSA 707
7/10/2003
1300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
3700 Block 9TH ST SE
CCN #03094522
C1 (BM 46) REPORTS THAT S1 APPRO HIM ARMED W/A GOLF CLUB STATING "YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP" & THEN BEGAN STRIKING C1 ABOUT THE BODY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 707
7/10/2003
1800 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
700 Block BRANDYWINE ST SE
CCN #03094690
C1 (BM 29) REPORTS THAT S1-S3 DROVE UP IN THE AUTO & S3 PROD A HANDGUN FROM THE BACK SEAT & BEGAN SHOOTING AT HIM. C1
WAS STRUCK IN THE RT SHOULDER & LEFT BUTTOCKS. C1 WAS TRANSPORTED TO MEDSTAR BY MEDIC 33.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 709
7/7/2003
1500 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
4300 Block 4TH ST SE
CCN #03092902
C1 (BM, 10) REPORTS THAT S1-S3 APPRO HIM STATING "WHAT ARE YOU DOING AROUND HERE"? S1-S2 STRUCK C1 CAUSING HIM TO
FALL & S3 THEN KICKED C1 ABOUT THE BODY.

Friday

Straight Up DC Hustlin:

More Highlights from the Washington D.C. Police Crime Blotter
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 703
7/9/2003
1100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
2400 Block ELVANS RD SE
CCN #03093952
C1 (BM 17) REPORTS THAT S1 STABBED HIM IN THE LEFT LEG W/A KNIFE AFTER A VERBAL ALTERCATION. S1 IS C1'S SISTER'S BOYFRIEND.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 706
7/9/2003
2200 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
100 Block MISSISSIPPI AVE SE
CCN #03094243
C1 (BM 22) REPORTS THAT S1 PROD A HANDGUN & BEGAN SHOOTING AT HIM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 707
7/9/2003
1300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
1200 Block VALLEY AVE SE
CCN #03094017
C1 (BM 190) & C2 (BM ADULT) REPORTS THAT AN UNKNOWN AUTO PULLED UP TO THEM & UNKNOWN SUSP(S) BEGAN SHOOTING AT THEM. C1 WAS STRUCK IN THE BACK & C2 WAS STRUCK IN THE LEFT HAND. C1 & C2 WERE TAKEN TO HOWARD UNIVER HOSP.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 708
7/9/2003
1700 Hours
STOLEN AUTO - Stolen Auto
3000 Block 8TH ST SE
CCN #03094196
C1 REPORTS THAT UNKNOWN SUSP(S) STOLE HIS AUTO. KEYS ARE W/C1 & THE REGISTRATION IS IN THE AUTO.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 709
7/9/2003
300 Hours
ROBBERY - Other Armed
4100 Block LIVINGSTON RD SE
CCN #03093812
C1 (BM 48) REPORTS THAT S1-S2 APPRO HIM W/S1 STRIKING HIM IN THE HEAD W/A POLE & S2 STRUCK HIM W/HIS FIST. VARIOUS PROP WAS TAKEN FROM C1.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 711
7/9/2003
1400 Hours
BURGLARY - 2
2200 Block MOUNT VIEW PL SE
CCN #03094059
C1 (WF ADULT) REPORTS THAT UNKNOWN SUSP(S) ENT HER HOME BY FORCING THE FT DOOR OPEN &THEN STOLE VARIOUS PROP.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 702
7/7/2003
300 Hours
ROBBERY - Gun
2300 Block ALABAMA AVE SE
CCN #03092656
C1 (BM 21) REPORTS THAT S1 ROBBED HIM AT GUNPOINT OF VARIOUS PROP.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 702
7/7/2003
900 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
2400 Block ALABAMA AVE SE
CCN #03092806
{DV}C1 (BF) 49 REPORTS THAT AFTER A VERBAL ALTERCATION W/S1, S1 PROD A RAZOR & STATED "I'LL STAB YOU LIKE I DID LAST TIME". CASE CLOSED WITH ARREST.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 703
7/7/2003
1700 Hours
SEX ABUSE - Child 1st
2800 Block POMEROY RD SE
CCN #03093135
R1 REPORTS FOR C1 (BM, 4) THAT S1 SEXUALLY ASSAULTED C1.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 705
7/6/2003
2000 Hours
SEX ABUSE - Child 1st
2800 Block JASPER RD SE
CCN #03092682
C1 (BF 4) REPORTS THAT S1 SEXUALLY ASSAULTED HER.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 706
7/7/2003
1800 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
Unit Block HALLEY TR SE
CCN #03093036
{DV}C1
(BF 21) REPORTS THAT S1 KICKED HER ABOUT THE BODY & THEN SHOWED HER A HANDGUN WHILE STATING, "I'M GOING TO PUT 2 BULLETS IN YOU."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 706
7/7/2003
2000 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
3300 Block MARTIN LUTHER KING JR AVE SE
CCN #03093093
{DV}C1 (BM 20) REPORTS THAT S1 GRABBED A KNIFE & CAME AT HIM STATING "I'M GOING TO F--K YOU UP." CASE CLOSED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 706
7/7/2003
2000 Hours
ROBBERY - Gun
3900 Block SOUTH CAPITOL ST SE
CCN #03093110
R1 REPORTS FOR MEADS LIQUOR STORE THAT S1-S2 ENT PLACING HANDGUNS TO THE HEADS OF A CUSTOMER & EMPLOYEE WHILE
DEMANDING MONEY. VARIOUS PROP WAS TAKEN.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 707
7/6/2003
2200 Hours
ROBBERY - Gun
4800 Block 7TH ST SE
CCN #03092587
C1 9BM 22) & C2 (BF 26) REPORTS THAT S1-S3 ROBBED THEM AT GUNPOINT OF THE LISTED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 709
7/7/2003
1300 Hours
STOLEN AUTO - Stolen Auto
4300 Block LIVINGSTON RD SE
CCN #03092920
C1 REPORTS THAT UNKNOWN SUSP(S) STOLE HER AUTO & VARIOUS PROP.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 709
7/7/2003
1600 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
4600 Block 6TH ST SE
CCN #03092935
{DV}C1 (BF 17) REPORTS THAT S1 STABBED HER IN THE LEFT THIGH W/A KNIFE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 710
7/5/2003
2000 Hours
BURGLARY - 2
100 Block IVANHOE ST SE
CCN #03093032
C1 (BF 38) REPORTS THAT S1 ENT HER APT BY KICKING OPEN THE FT DOOR & USED THE BATHROOM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 704
7/8/2003
1300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
2200 Block SAVANNAH TER SE
CCN #03093461
C1 (BF 27) & C2 (BM 42) REPORTS THAT S1 STRUCK THEM W/A NAME PLATE HOLDER & FLOWER POT. CASE CLOSED WITH ARREST.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 706
7/8/2003
2200 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
600 Block ALABAMA AVE SE
CCN #03092732
C1 (BM 17) REPORTS THAT HE WAS SHOT IN THE RT LOWER LEG AFTER HEARING WHAT HE BELIEVED WERE FIRE CRACKERS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 707
7/8/2003
1500 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
1300 Block SOUTHERN AVE SE
CCN #03093527
{DV}C1 (BF 23) REPORTS THAT AFTER S1 PUSHED HER OUT OF THE AUTO, S1 KICKED HER ABOUT THE BODY. CC#070303109 STARKS,TERRANCE (CHILD IN COMMON).
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 708
7/8/2003
100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
400 Block LEBAUM ST SE
CCN #03093216
C1 (BF 37) REPORTS THAT SHE HEARD HER AUTO ALARM GOING OFF & WHEN SHE CAME OUT THE HOUSE, S1 APPRO HER ARMED W/A
KNIFE STATING "SHUT UP B--CH OR I'M GONNA STAB YOU". S1 THEN PULLED C1 ACROSS THE YARD. S1-S2 FLED ON FOOT.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 709
7/8/2003
100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Gun
4300 Block 3RD ST SE
CCN #03093218
C1 (BM 26) REPORTS THAT S1-S2 DROVE UP TO HIM IN THE AUTO & BEGAN SHOOTING AT HIM. C1 WAS STRUCK SEVERAL TIMES ABOUT
THE BODY. C1 WAS ADMITTED TO MED STAR BY DR.WANG. "AWIK".

Tuesday

Never take out your wallet
Ever
Surgically implant it under a flap of skin and
never take it out - just think about it and about
the money in it until the leather and the
money make your blood go septic
I heard the gravel grind under his loafer
when he swivelled around for a look
he hissed, "hissss,"
Could she dummy up a convincing insanity plea?


this guy again

Thursday

More warm and fuzzy moments copied and pasted from Washington D.C. crime blotter:

PSA 603
7/2/2003 1500 Hours
ROBBERY - Knife
5000 Block EAST CAPITOL ST
CCN #03090407
TWO SUBJECTS APPROACHED D. LINDSEY AT A BUS STOP AND S1 ASKED HIM "DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME?". C1 REPLIED "NO" AND S1 ACCUSED C1 OF 'LOOKING AT S1 FUNNY', SAID "GIVE ME YOUR SHOES", PRODUCED A KNIFE FROM HIS POCKET AND REPEATED HI
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 605
7/2/2003 1800 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
4500 Block B ST SE
CCN #03090491
C1 INTERVENED IN A FIGHT BETWEEN S1 AND S2 AND S1 PRODUCED A KNIFE FROM HIS POCKET, THREATENED C1 WITH IT AND THEN FLED. S1 IS A FRIEND. {K}
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 610
6/15/2002 1000 Hours
SEX ABUSE - Child 1st
2300 Block GOOD HOPE RD SE
CCN #03089889
A 13 YEAR OLD FEMALE TOLD HER SOCIAL WORKER THAT ABOUT ONE YEAR PRIOR TO HER REPORT S1 'FORCED HIMSELF ON HER' AND SEXUALLY ASSAULTED HER. S1 IS C1'S UNCLE. {DV}{J} REPORT TAKEN BY YFSD.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PSA 610
7/2/2003 1300 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
2800 Block GOOD HOPE RD SE
CCN #03090329
S1 PRODUCED A CARVING KNIFE FROM HER PURSE AND THREATENED TO KILL C1. CLOSED WITH THE ARREST OF S1. NO OTHER INFORMATION WAS INCLUDED IN THE REPORT.


ZZZZZZZZZ

A lot of folks getting stabbed in DC lately. Same in the blogosphere. Look at this. And this. And this. People are getting shot too.

Wednesday

Fun with the Washington D.C. Crime Blotter:


PSA 703
6/30/2003
1100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
1500 Block EATON RD SE
CCN #03089190
C1 (BM 19YRS) REPORTS S1APPRO AND STATED, "WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" C1 REPLIED, "I'M NOT LOOKING AT YOU." S1 THEN STRUCK C1, PROD A FOLDING KNIFE, AND CUT C1 ON THE RT FOREARM AND LEFT KNEE. S1 FLED, S1 IS UNK. TO C1. C1 TAKEN TO
GSECH.
---------------------
PSA 703
6/30/2003
100 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
1100 Block EATON RD SE
CCN #03088956
{DV} C1 (BF 16YRS) REPORTS DURING A VERBAL ALTERCATION S1, HER BOYFRIEND, STRUCK HER WITH A BROOM HANDLE. S1 THEN FLED THE SCENE. S1 (BM 19YRS).
------------------------------
PSA 702
6/30/2003 300 Hours
ROBBERY - Car Jacking
2400 Block ALABAMA AVE SE
CCN #03088990
C1 (BM 34YRS) REPORTS S1 FLAGGED C1 DOWN AND ASKED HIM FOR A RIDE. S2 APPRO. DRIVERS SIDE AND STATED, "GET THE F**K OUT THE CAR." C1 COMPLIED. S1-S2 FLED THE SCENE IN C1'S VEH. UNKNOWN DIR. CAR-JACKING. DET HATHORNE NOTIFIED
------------------------------
PSA 706
7/1/2003 2000 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Knife
3700 Block 1ST ST SE
CCN #03090042
C1 reports DURING A VERBAL ALTERCATION WITH S1, A FRIEND, HE BECAME ANGRY PROD. A KNIFE AND STABBED C1 IN THE UPPER LEFT SIDE.
------------------------------
PSA 710
5/24/2003 000 Hours
Assault With A Deadly Weapon - Other
4100 Block 1ST ST SE
CCN #03069361
R1 reports FOR C1 THAT S1 ENTERED AN UNLOCKED DOOR AND BEGAN TO STRIKE C1 WITH BOTTLES, THEN BEAT C1 WITH A BASEBALL BAT. C1 TAKEN TO GWH. S1 EX-ROOMATE OF R1'S.(2D RPT,OSD SGT DAVIS NOTIFIED)
------------------------------

Last but not least


The Metropolitan Police Department is seeking the public's assistance in solving the following crime:
On July 1, 2003, at approximately 9:30 pm, Metropolitan Police responded to the rear of 715 Kenyon Street, NW to investigate the report of an assault in progress. Once on the scene, officers located a male suffering from blunt force trauma to the head and body. DC Fire and Emergency Medical Services personnel were then summoned to the scene. The victim, who has not yet been positively identified, was transported to the Washington Hospital Center’s MedStar Unit, where he was pronounced dead at 10:17 pm.

These were but a few of the many offenses, of course - there were too many assaults, burglaries, auto thefts and sex abuse cases to mention. DC recently regained its title as the Murder Capital, by the way. We fuckin rule!!! We kill more mare fares per 100,000 than any other major U.S. city. We were also the only major city that actually added jobs to the economy.

There are currently no openings in my department, and I have eavesdropped on no conversation or e-mail where my death was being plotted. Sorry.

Sunday

"Put down that Bible," she said, "read me some more O. Henry stories."

"Okay."

Friday

Blinded by the light. Or was it the rubbing alcohol. The man is working me into the ground, sorry I ain't been around much. I feel like a real cyber mute. Hey that would be a good name for a band, Cyber Mute. Not even enough time to touch myself. No hands free. Connection at home sucks, I can piss a faster stream than that computer transmits. Woe is me. Woe be being me. Woe be trying to be being me. I promise myself that I will not to turn into some other prick. I am only a few mood swings and and a couple of opinion morphings from becoming somebody else. Lucky I keep several selves in my stylish multi personality carrying case. If I keep giving a darn about work like this, they might find my soul in an interoffice envelope being wheeled away on a squeaky cart. AS for my blogging habits, that's how it starts, I know, the beginning of the end for a blog, first the person apologizes for the lack of posts then before you know it, the person types "I quit." I've seen so many blogs like that. Not me. I'm keeping this mare fare going until I die, I'll be old, blogging about my prune juice and my morning senior coffee discount and doing bumps in the bathroom at bingo night and flirting with the wrinklies. (Flirting with the Wrinklies is Cyber Mute's first album, it contains bonus tracks remixed by Skull Full of Poop.)

Thursday

I wonder how many events in the last twenty years will be mentioned in history books. And for how long. As time elapses and leaves our sorry, self important asses in the dust, how many of these earth shaking events will get crossed off of some history book editor's notebook in the future?

Monday

Every day I pass a homeless shelter on my way to work. People wait outside to get in. I guess the place runs on shifts. They let in a certain amount of folks, the folks wash up, maybe they eat (I don’t know if they give them food in there) and then the folks find a bed and go to sleep. The front door gets locked, and outside a new line begins to form. These people who wait to get in the place – they are not being clever. They are not being sneaky. They’re not being slick, avoiding work, intentionally juicing the system. Some of them are mentally ill. They can not function in the world of Windows operating systems, ATM machines, mortgage payments, yard of the month clubs and all other associated horse shit. I BARELY CAN! I CAN NOT FIND A SINGLE GARDENING APRON THAT DOES NOT MAKE MY ASS LOOK FAT. But seriously, these people sit out there yelling, crying, some of them, telling the same old infinite loop type stories, laughing out loud the laughter of a person who is in denial or fear, they’re throwing up because of some horrible mess they ate or some horrible mess developing in their gut, some of them, pissing on themselves because of some condition. They need help. I want to give them something and I thought (really thought) what these folks might really need and it may sound stupid but here goes(also mindful of the fact I don't have a lot of scratch and barely have enough to eat at times myself, here goes) - shit like foot spray – antifungal athletes foot spray, socks, (these people hump around town all day in the same socks or no socks. I’ve seen them out there with their shoes off surveying the damage of the disasters that rage on their poor feet.) Lotion, skin lotion, SUN BLOCK – I know they must get scorched some days out there, sunglasses, anti-bacterial hand wash lotion, some kind of anestheptic for the cuts and scratches they get from day to day, mouth wash, bandages, this kind of thing, man – I see this one guy every day, he is straining his eyeballs to read the paper he finds – he has these old eye glasses that barely help – he reads a word through the glasses then picks them up and tries to verify the word without the glasses - up down up down go this poor guys glasses – some of those el cheapo reading glasses they sell in the drug store might work, man, some of those folding chairs like camping chairs that come in the sack you can haul around with you, somethin, I don’t know, wet ones, eye drops for stuff blowing around getting in their eyes, blankets (even in summer so they can lay it out on the grass) rain ponchos which are cheap as hell at Army-Navy . . .I don’t know . . . a lot of stuff at Army-Navy would probably help

Wednesday

"Hey, man! I want to put my dick on your glasses!"



The above quote was shouted at an old friend of mine through the bars of city jail one night by an inmate. My friend was about to start a career in law enforcement working there in city jail. Before you begin work there, they walk you through, give you a tour, show you around, maybe introduce you to some residents. It was odd that my friend would have chosen such a career path. Before he turned eighteen, he got busted with some weight, some paraphernalia and a whole sheet. He was under house arrest his whole senior year of high school. He was a wild man. He was a sponsored skater, he'd broken his arm, his collar bone, his ankle and he nearly exploded his eyeball out of his head due to blunt trauma to the temple. He always was kind of a stunt man. One day he was swinging on a chain in a back yard. Guys used the chain to pull engines. Attached to the bottom of the chain was a small, steel hook. My friend was balancing his foot on this hook, and he slipped. His body slid down the chain and his scrotum got hooked and ruptured. He had to be lifted from the chain and rushed to the emergency room. His mom was a nurse and was used to patching him up every time some sick, crazed stunt went bad. His mom was the one who set up the interview and the tour at the city jail. Last I heard from my friend, he was working as a pipe fitter and drinking at a country western bar and living with the night manager of the bar. The manager had a cat named Shiloh, and she lived down the street from the bar. You never know where you will end up, but you hope it will be comfortable once you get there.

Monday

makes you want to turn on the faucet and say hello to whatever comes out
makes you want to circle down the drain with your shower water

Tuesday

Sometimes he'd walk slowly up out of the woods behind a restaurant like a hungry old mutt looking for some scraps. He'd sing songs for the waitresses and cooks. He'd even do a little dance for them sometimes, it was always a party when he was around. I accompanied him to a performance of his one night. He trudged up to a bunch of restaurant workers who were standing out there before the dinner rush began. His clothes were tattered, he wasn't very clean. He began to address one kid, a waiter, but the kid walked away ignoring him. "I don't know what the hell he wants," the kid said to another waiter. "He wants some money to buy some crack. Spray paint or airplane glue. A girly magazine!" They laughed.

"Shut up, man. He just wants to sing his song," somebody said. He took a breath and got right into it. His voice did not crack, in fact it vibrated very pleasantly in the air, and he carried that tune, Rocky Racoon it was. He had real range and energy. As he went through each verse, his eyes moved from the ground up to the sky, big blue eyes, and his head bobbed a little as he sang. He dipped one shoulder, dipped the other. A couple of waitresses came out of the kitchen and lit up cigarettes. They took a look at this guy and started smiling. One girl dug her hand in her pocket and some change started to jingle.

He was a karaoke singer, he was a partying machine. He worked in sales before things started to unravel. He partied himself right out of his home, his family and his job. He never really hurt anybody, not directly. He never flew into a rage. He was rather professional about alcoholism. He never got a drunk driving charge. He never wrecked or got in fights or hit anybody. He just drank and drank and drank. A jolly drunk. He drank and sang. He drank and laughed until his gut hurt and his face was all red. He drank until his bank account was empty. He drank until his car got repossessed. He drank until he could not make his mortgage payment. He drank until he could not get up in the morning. He drank until he was out in the woods with the boys, making friends with them, telling them about it. He lost the wife and kids somewhere along the way.

Saturday

I jammed myself into the crowded subway car. I scanned the car for an empty spot to let my gaze fall. A baby in the arms of a lady behind me put her little hand on my shoulder, it felt like a rain drop.

Friday

I Could Be a Real Prick When I Was Younger


One afternoon when I young, I was carving it up real good on my skateboard at this Shell Station. Shell stations have these great steel curbs. You could grind and slide like crazy on them. The best skate spot was the car wash at Shell because the curbs there varied in height. The pavement sloped down, falling away from the level of the curb. You could try just about anything at that spot. The bad thing was that there was this vacuum right next to the approach. If somebody was vacuuming out their car, it could get a little scrunchy in there as you come rolling up fast as shit on your board ready for lift off and you pop up and slam down on the metal curb and make that ear drum destroying grinding metal screech sound sending sparks flying beneath you (only a few feet from the lid of the station's underground tanks which held hundreds of gallons of gasoline). I was having a blast and this lady pulled up in her car to vacuum it. She was oblivious of me as she bent over into her car, busily vacuuming every little spot and every in between spot, between the seats, under them, and so on. I was zooming around her car, doing my thing. I tried this one trick, and I landed it but I instantly lost my balance, and I shot my board out from under me. The board went rattling away from me as fast as shit right at the lady vacuuming her car. The nose of the board hit her right on her Achilles tendon as she was bent over into the car. Her head went thud against the ceiling of her car when the jolt caused her to straighten her body. The side of her face smacked the door frame as she quickly withdrew from the car. "God dammit!" was all she could say. The pain must have been severe, I know - a thin piece of wood stabbing you with great force just above the back of your foot, not a bone breaker, but a really really painful thing, and then two quick blows to the head in clambering confusion. I ran up to her and said, "I am so sorry." She was still dazed by the searing pain, I think, she said it was okay. She looked off into the distance, concentrating, trying to mentally manage the pain, moving things around her brain to make a path for the pain. I knew that if she had time to gather her wits, she would fuck me up or call the cops or both. Imagine what you would do, you are there and your consciousness is totally washed over by the droning of the vacuum, you are thinking your thoughts: you're getting things done that day, productive, nice day, 'Hmm, what's next on my list of things to do?' beautiful day out, you're humming, car's gettin so clean, you're getting every spot of that car's floor and the seats, and then - - WHACK!!! SEARING PAIN IN YOUR LOWER LEG - - - SUDDENLY, NO WARNING!! ARE YOU BEING ATTACKED OR WHAT?!? She didn't know what to think, what to do. I knew that once the pain subsided it would give way to extreme rage. I apologized once more and skated away. I looked back and she was still standing there on one foot, like a stork, gazing off into the distance, trying to get away from her pain.
Wistful while you work

Thursday

The folks reading my mind, riding the subway this morning, they were smiling – they must have had a good read. It was all there in my skull: humor, sex, violence, betrayal, repentence, benevolence - - maybe even a little gold dust. Sheeit. Maybe not. Maybe my hair was did just right.

Wednesday

I’d like two stamps, please, and the rudest, slowest service you can possibly manage.

Monday

Your credibility goes flopping out of your zipper sickening everyone.

Thursday

Don't let it get too far from your mind. It will charge back at you,
and you won't be ready. Think about it once a minute.
Keep a light on, a little party in a little room.

Monday

Stand clear, I'm in the midst of a ROCK ‘N' ROLL MOMENT.

Wednesday

YOU WOULD NOT KNOW A GOOD IDEA EVEN IF IT REACHED UP AND RESULTED IN YOUR OWN DISMISSAL.

Sunday

Some protest. Could not find a single hacky-sack session.
Nothing says "FUCK AUTHORITY" more than a good hacky-sack session

Saturday

My little Sushi Score Card Thingy shows that Team Shiitake is in the lead
Followed closely by Crab Stick
Every stuffed animal I buy only survives a few days or so
Power tools and my odd decor
Wait till the landlord gets this apartment back from me
-wow-

Monday

Now I know what it feels like
to feel like I know what it feels like.

Never empty.

I wish I knew something.
"Yes, I'll take one of each. Thank you."
Sitting here writing words on tiny scraps of paper so that you can't see.
Hang on.

Some days I need to be told what to do.
I make check marks next to their names when I find out they have died.

Watch out for that guy - he's writing things on small scraps of paper and
slipping them into his pocket. He is smiling.

Thursday

It's easy to maintain the intensity when there are so many fuckin jerks.

Tuesday

I'd like to shake your hand
Why don't you mail it to me

Friday

Why don't you make a little paper airplane out of it
and bravely fly it up your own ass?