There are plenty of abandoned stores, facilities and factories to squat in. Abandoned farms and small town schools are for sale. Soon enough we'll all be illegal.


Sometimes I wonder what would happen if by some unbelievable mishap of the cosmos - I suddenly disappeared from my current location and reappeared somewhere else - like - in somebody's living room. Like if I disappeared off my own couch while I'm sitting there in my socks . . . and there I am - in somebody else's living room. What would I say to the person sitting there in their living room when I suddenly appear before their amazed eyes? "Can I have something to drink? And a ride home? Can I borrow a map? Where am I?"


One time my brother saved my sister from the undertow at the beach when she was tiny - she got washed off this raft and was getting pulled under. He said all he could see was her diaper as she was being swept under, and he grabbed for it and pulled her right out. They were both pretty young at the time.

One time he saved me from getting my ass bit off by this god damn crazy German Shepard in a junk yard. I didn't see the bastard sitting there under a chopped junk car, and he was getting ready to lunge at me to chew my ass off - no shit.

One time my brother had to put one of those junk yard dogs down. It was foaming at the mouth - running everybody inside the building, and it was going to bite somebody if somebody didn't do something. So Brad went after him with his pistol and shot him.

One time my brother beat the hell out of this guy because he was stalking my sister down the street, saying all this lewd crap to her. She came inside crying and my brother was like: Who? What? Where? Chased the guy down the street, and the guy pulled out these nunchucks or whatever. He would swing them at Brad and Brad would block with his arm and kick the guy in the guts. He kicked the guy in the guts over and over until the cops came and arrested the guy.

Brad was indeed Superman.

I'm serious and honest when I tell you : He once raced against a car on foot and won. He raced this guy just to the end of the next yard or whatever. The guy's car was a real clunker. His car would kind of sputter sometimes when he popped the clutch, and performance did not improve much once under way. So by the time he engaged the clutch and gassed it and got it going and shit - my brother was already there - just about.

Super super.


Lately two contemplations have settled into my mind, always occurring to me one right after the other, as though they are somehow related. They are not related. Not really. But here they are:

1. I'm thinking that I need a drug, a prescription for some kind of drug. A smart drug. To alleviate the anger, anxiety and despair I get sometimes. I mean - I don't think that I am all that fucked up. I've managed to keep myself out of a cage so far. But maybe I could be doing better. Seems like everybody is on somethin. I don't know. Maybe I should just continue to take these problems on - on my own - clean - take them on head on, Bobby vs. The Storm, or some such lugubrious shit . . . but this first contemplation, which as I said is always followed by the second, is this: I worry and worry over what I should say to the psychiatrist. He'll ask me all these questions - ask me to describe my mental condition to him. Should I exaggerate? Should I sit there and calculate my answers? If my condition seems too severe, he'll have me locked up. If it does not seem severe enough, he won't give me any drugs. It seems like a weird weird form of negotiation.

2. The second contemplation in this inseparable pair is this: I wonder about true crime shows. America's Most Wanted, etc. I wonder how often the actor who portrays a criminal in the crime re-enactment gets arrested - by mistake - The actor instead of the actual criminal. That shit would suck. You're a struggling actor who barely gets roles. You finally land a re-enactment gig, make a little money. You go out and celebrate, get a little drunk, a waitress looks at you a little funny, makes a phone call, and you stagger out of the bar, and thirty cops rush you and start fucking you up, and then they stuff you in a police car because they think you're a child molester. Tough break.

Well. That's about it. That should give you a feel for where I'm at, like, mentally or whatever. I get the drug thought, then I get the crime show thought. And I don't know why.
I don't know what to write about, so I'll tell you about the shootings around here lately. Bad shit. This mother and daughter around the corner were bringing in their groceries, and some teenagers shot them. For no apparent reason. Hit the daughter in the stomach and hit the mom in the arm. Lately they're shooting near the corner of 4th NW and Butternut, around the corner from Coolidge High School - on Football Fridays. Twenty, thirty rounds popped off at a time. I live on 3rd NW the other side of Coolidge HS. Last week they were shooting at 4:00 in the afternoon, a few days ago it was around 1:00 pm - right by the subway station. They found a dead guy soaked in his own blood in a car last week on 8th. A month ago a guy got dropped point blank in the liquor store parking lot right across from the subway. My street seems somewhat safe, though, a pocket of relative safetly, a well lit main drag wider than other streets in the neighborhood, a lot of cops drive by. Northwest DC, in general, is safer than most parts of the city. This recent spike in crime around here has people freaked out.

Southeast DC is where the wild shit happens all the time: Anacostia, Berry Farm, around the bases, certain streets are nightmarish: Benning, Alabama, Stanton, Langston, Good Hope Road, Savannah Sumner, South Capitol etc. Kids getting hit by stray bullets in northeast - a few times this year - this young girl was sitting there watching TV a while back, a gun fight broke out right outside, and she got hit in the back of the head by a stray and killed. I think what happened with that case was they figured out who shot that little girl - whose gun the bullet came out of - figured out what city he fled to (Richmond), and splashed his photo and last known location on the news, and the fucker felt cornered, and he drank a bunch of draino and hung himself too - or some crazy shit like that. Lately it's been really bad for teenagers - - more of them hit this year than before - shit - at Ballou High School, kids run in the school and shoot other kids, drive-by shootings, etc. Picked off right at school. This football star at Ballou got killed. You've heard of Columbine High School, but have you heard of Ballou? It's bad everywhere in DC, I guess. It was improving, and then it went to shit again. DC regained its distinction as murder capitol of America recently - it passed Detroit or whatever. But it had been improving from the last time it held that title - back in the early crack years - during the eighties.

There are worse places, I suppose, there's crime everywhere. My college town, Norfolk, VA, I heard shots all the time at night. One summer somebody had a fuckin machine gun, off and on all night: DIT DIT DIT DIT DIT DIT !!, - - - there are definitely worse places - - like FALLUJA!! Falluja right now - currently - at this moment getting pounded by US forces. You know the civilian casualty reports will be down played, down right lied about, covered up - don't even ask. I wish they'd march George Bush down the street in either Falluja or southeast DC - let him see first hand how safe he's made the world.


The most conscientious driver I encountered this morning was driving a garbage truck. He was much nicer than the ambulance driver . . .