an uneasy quiet

Things got worse, then got oddly quiet.

The afternoon of my previous post, my property manager told me S had gone into the restaurant and threatened some patrons. He was clearly on edge, maybe more so after repeated cop visits? Was I making things worse by calling them out?

* 

Then on Monday, my partner and I were leaving quite early in the morning for an urgent care appointment. He's out there, B said when he came in, and so we went out the back door of my building.

Unfortunately, S came around the back also, already yelling at 7.30am.

I was done. Beyond done. So tired of hearing his voice, the yelling, the slurs, the anger. It was a bad moment as we fumbled out the gate, surprised, confused, and I snapped, exasperated, Will you just shut the fuck up.

It was like dropping a lit match on a gas can. S erupted, shouting You shut the fuck up I'm going to kill you I'm going to...

My partner got in the mix, yelling at him to shut up, to stop showing his penis, etc etc.

They lunged at each other. 

Go on, call the cops, S screamed, so I did, trying to explain the situation and restrain B and get away from S. Neighbors came out on their porches. A passing dog walker advised me to just leave the guy alone, he's nuts (Thanks white dude.) S retreated, then approached again, holding his dirty blanket, angry and screaming, B screaming. We somehow retreated down the street to try and get to the doctor's visit, upset and scared.

The old people neighbors had yelled You sound like a big baby and B couldn't decide if they meant him or S.  

*

I came home later, cautious, pepper spray in hand. No S.

The following day, same cautious approach, no S. A neighbor told me the cops came eventually on Monday morning but S had calmed down by then, so they didn't take him in. No word from the homeless advocates I was emailing with. S was just -- gone.

I've seen the woman I think is S's sister around the neighborhood, at a po-boy place and a local bar. I haven't had the courage to approach her. 

I've looked at some apartments, including one really cool one across town, but my property manager won't release me early from my lease, unless I move into another one of their buildings (jerks). 

*

At a gay bar the next neighborhood over, I asked our favorite bartender who also lives near me, a gentle, soft-spoken soul, if he knew the guy. Oh yeah, W said. He comes in for water sometimes. One time I was out for a walk in the neighborhood and went past him twice and he yelled Hey f***t, get a girlfriend.

And you still give him water, my friend marveled.

Well, yeah, W said, sheepish.  

 

indicative of something

I've been watching a package bounce around for the past week amongst postal service facilities.

Moving Through Network

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

BATON ROUGE LA PROCESSING CENTER

November 7, 2024, 8:36 am

Departed USPS Regional Facility

LAFAYETTE LA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

November 7, 2024, 7:15 am

Arrived at USPS Regional Destination Facility

LAFAYETTE LA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

November 7, 2024, 2:18 am

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

NEW ORLEANS LA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

November 6, 2024, 8:02 am

In Transit to Next Facility

November 6, 2024, 6:44 am

Departed USPS Regional Facility

BATON ROUGE LA PROCESSING CENTER

November 6, 2024, 5:19 am

Arrived at USPS Regional Destination Facility

BATON ROUGE LA PROCESSING CENTER

November 5, 2024, 4:43 pm

In Transit to Next Facility

November 4, 2024

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

NEW ORLEANS LA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

November 2, 2024, 4:03 pm

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

BATON ROUGE LA PROCESSING CENTER

November 2, 2024, 1:32 pm

Departed USPS Regional Facility

NORTH HOUSTON TX DISTRIBUTION CENTER

November 2, 2024, 7:47 am

Arrived at USPS Facility

HOUSTON, TX 77032

November 1, 2024, 10:01 pm

Accepted at USPS Origin Facility

HOUSTON, TX 77007

November 1, 2024, 8:46 pm

It doesn't feel like a stretch to acknowledge this is a metaphor for how I'm feeling generally.

A friend said mournfully Tuesday night, I feel like I've been lied to. There are no norms anymore.

tedious tedious tedious

Geez I hate being left on read.

Hate it!

Hate the 2 or 3 day turnaround on texts.

One acquaintance waited a month to reply, then started with Hiiii and wrote as though no time had passed.

More than one will respond to a straightforward invitation with a sidestep, an emoji, or nothing.

It makes me feel put-in-my-place.

Sidelined.

Unimportant.

In Seattle I blame it on the Freeze. Other places, I don’t know what to call it.

Maybe it’s my Gen X-ness, my impatience, my everlasting FOMO, eager to plan, see art, hear bands, enjoy life.

But fuck how I hate it.

If you want to say no, say no.

If you’re not sure, say you’re not sure.

If you need to last minute cancel, do that. No more excuses! No headache, no work commitment. No. NO.

In some ways covid-times were easier. It was all No.

Hold off

Hold off on the Egan book.
A pal gave me news about the author this week that I'm still processing.
Apologies for vague-blogging but yeah. Hold off.

a man hit me today and a man hit me on some other days too

A man hit me today. A stranger. Less than an hour ago.

I made it home and am sitting here feeling numb. Wondering why I’m not angry or crying.

Mostly I’m just weary. I don’t think of myself as more or less of a target than anyone else.

Walking with my sibling a couple months ago in another city, a man was weaving around on the sidewalk approaching us, then lunged and hit me in the leg. He kept going. I yelled something, I can’t remember what. He disappeared into the crowd. Then I felt outrage. Nauseated. Violated once again. Touched without my permission.

*

It happened in DC in September. I sat on a bus with family and a man was waiting to exit, talked to me, tried to shake my hand. I politely said I’d prefer not to and he began screaming at me, calling me a stuck-up bitch. My family did nothing. The bus driver. The other passengers. Everyone just sat. I was frozen in fear and anxiety until he stepped off the bus. Later I wept, feeling so unprotected, so undefended. So vulnerable.

*

Today, as I walked home from a bakery run, I dodged some squirrelly-looking characters on a corner, and took a right onto a busy street. Saw a man approaching on the sidewalk. It was nine a.m. Lots of cars. I heard a shout. Was it the man who was now just a few yards away? He wasn’t tall, but compact, young, fit-looking. Normally if I had even a sliver of worry I’d cross the street, but there was orange construction netting blocking the opposite sidewalk. So I kept going. It was broad daylight. Rainy.

As we passed each other I moved to the left, saw a baton in the man’s hand, thought Surely he wouldn’t hit me, instinctively brought the umbrella up to shield myself and WHACK, down came the baton. Hard. It rattled the umbrella. My elbow wavered.

I said nothing. Felt a surge of fear. Walked as fast as I could away from him. Do I call someone? Did the construction workers across the street see anything? I vowed long ago never to call the cops on a black man. But this one just struck me.

I looked back. He was walking away. Yelled something.

I hurried home.

Over the weekend at a support group a man was ranting about a woman who shared too much information, in his opinion, in another venue. She’s opening herself up to all kinds of pervs or weird men attacking her, he sputtered. I said, You’re entitled to your opinion but all a woman has to do to be attacked in this world is simply exist.

I don’t have a neat wrap-up or insight. These things happen and happen. No one is punished or even admonished except me for daring to exist, I guess. For daring to be in public, getting ice cream or walking to a bakery.

shame and trauma

Meme Week is hereby interrupted.

The events of January 6 have left me and every American I know feeling worried, tired, and angry. You can read about the insurrection at any number of excellent reporting sources, such as the Washington Post, CNN.com, and NPR. I spent a part of yesterday listening to CBS News.com, and some times staring in disbelief at my screen.

Why all the surprise among the media and commentariat? We knew this would be a violent day. We as in any citizen with eyes. We as in any person who has ever been threatened, brutalized, gaslit. 

I'm still disgusted. This image of a rioter holding zip ties makes me think it could have been far worse.

We won't survive 13 more days with the Current Occupant. Call your representatives. I called mine. He. Must. Go.

Here's a survey of newpaper front pages from today. 

Edited: see also Tom and Lorenzo's rundown.

Atlanta Journal Constitution

Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung

The Guardian

Houston Chronicle

Kansas City Star

L.A. Times

Seattle Times

Washington Post

 

our very own wall

The east precinct of the Seattle Police Department erected new barriers a month and a half ago. The concrete and metal construction blocks a full lane for about half a block on Pine, west of 12th, and on 12th, south of Pine, which makes walking and cycling in the area a huge pain in the rear end.

It's ugly, too. It reminds me, every time I pass by, that law enforcement is putting a HUGE barrier--and yes I'm shouting but it's big!--a huge barrier between themselves and the community they committed to serve and protect. I don't understand it. As a citizen, taxpayer and resident of the neighborhood, this  kind of deliberate escalation offends me. 

I don't dispute that the precinct has been a flashpoint in the months of protests since George Floyd's murder. Nor that it has been the target of a few firecrackers, hurled water bottles and the like. But, think about what kind of force is on the other side of this. Tear gas. Pepper spray. Grenades. Men with guns.

I don't have all the answers but this kind of power and violence imbalance is not promising for those currently at the helm. 

*

The concrete is also a frequent target of taggers. As fast as people graffiti the offensive cement cubes, someone (SPD? the city i.e. taxpayers?) comes out and paints over it. It's a constant agitation. At this rate, the grey paint will be six inches thick by Christmas.

when your mayor is accused of sedition

 

neither rain nor snow nor...fascism

UPDATE 8/18/20: per the Capitol Hill post office, the locks are there during daytime hours so that folks will come inside to drop off their mail. 

====================================== 

Jeebus effing criminey, now we're fighting for the US Post Office?

My anecdotal experience is that yes, yes indeed we are. I tried to mail some cards 2 weeks ago at the post office in the University District. It was a Saturday afternoon and it was closed, and there were zero blue USPS mailboxes outside. 

Zero. Where formerly there were at least 2 of the big drive up boxes.

Zero blue boxes outside of the main post office in the UD.

Yesterday, I stopped to pick up mail on Capitol Hill and was confronted with this, outside of the Broadway post office. This ain't good, folkx. See you in the streets.

 

good trouble

Congressman John Lewis: "Get in the way, get in good trouble."

wilting

The heat is getting to people. It's been in the 90's for days, humid, with hazy smoke from British Columbia wildfires settled in over the western part of the state. How else to explain the constant stream of crazy in my neighborhood. On Sunday I stepped out at noon to run errands, and immediately crossed paths with a pantsless gent, casually draping a garbage back over his nether parts. I dodged him, hurried up the hill, only to pass by another guy, wearing shorts and caressing a large boner and staring in my direction. Such a treat.
 Flash forward a few days to another cloudless, hot morning, BSP late for the bus as usual and hurrying towards the stop. First a drunk lady, weaving the sidewalk and half-heartedly sipping from an open wine bottle. Then a guy, talking to himself, who screamed "get the fuck away from me, bitch," as I walked past. Then another guy, coming down the hill, screaming "crap!" and I mean screaming, at each passing car, punctuating the scream with a middle finger. There are a lot of cars on the street even at 7 a.m. The piece de resistance--yes, one more angry gent, also heading uphill, circled the bus stop and walked so close as he passed me that I had to step back so as not to collide. He summoned up his best Steve-Martinish-"well excuuuuse me" and flicked cigarette ash.
Disheartened, I boarded my bus for working. It had already been a trying day and it wasn't even 7.30 a.m.

Scenes from election day

Boy what a tough week. I don't know what I think yet. I'm still feeling. A lot of feels. Disbelief, still. Anger. Disgust. Frustration.
Fear.
And--determination.
I ain't leaving. I'm sticking around to fight.