hot hot hot
DC last Saturday! Hotter than a witch's tit in brass bra. And no power all over town. Had a good time nonetheless. Stopped at a parade off George Mason -- ILEGALES 2012! T-shirts, floats, everything, including port-a-potties, which I needed. Then to a liquor store on Columbia pike -- no power, but they had plenty of bottled water, still reasonably cool, and at regular price, even -- I was half-expecting them to jack the price for the occasion. Toodled around
Theodore Roosevelt Island (not to be confused with Roosevelt Island) and Fort Marcy.
Spend the evening at my folks' -- their power had been cut off since the previous evening and the house was a bit of a sweatlodge. But they seemed to be getting along -- they had gas and water, so they could heat up some water on the stove and cook some dinner.
I mentioned that I'd been reading Warriors Don't Cry, about the 1957 integration of the Little Rock, Arkansas high school. My girlfriend's daughter had read the book in college and passed it to her mother, who passed it to me. My mom told me how she'd been in Tulsa, Oklahoma at the time, and had been tasked as a health worker to work with the black patients. There were 10 health workers assigned for whites, one for blacks, and my mother had been it. Tulsa had had a big riot back in '29, and though it was almost 30 years later, everyone was tense, afraid this integration thing would start another riot. She had some good stories, one about the woman who'd just gotten out of jail and was now pregnant -- "You want to know why I was there?" she asked. "If you'd like to tell me." "My brother used to beat my mama!" She pulled out a butterfly knife from under her pillow. "But not anymore!" Then there was the family who's young child had died of salmonella -- my mother went to the house to inspect it, see if they could find the contamination, clean up things. The man answered the door, holding a shotgun and told them to get off his porch -- "you killed my baby."
The house was far too hot for me to sleep comfortably -- I ended up sleeping in the basement, which was at least 10 degrees cooler.
Theodore Roosevelt Island (not to be confused with Roosevelt Island) and Fort Marcy.
Spend the evening at my folks' -- their power had been cut off since the previous evening and the house was a bit of a sweatlodge. But they seemed to be getting along -- they had gas and water, so they could heat up some water on the stove and cook some dinner.
I mentioned that I'd been reading Warriors Don't Cry, about the 1957 integration of the Little Rock, Arkansas high school. My girlfriend's daughter had read the book in college and passed it to her mother, who passed it to me. My mom told me how she'd been in Tulsa, Oklahoma at the time, and had been tasked as a health worker to work with the black patients. There were 10 health workers assigned for whites, one for blacks, and my mother had been it. Tulsa had had a big riot back in '29, and though it was almost 30 years later, everyone was tense, afraid this integration thing would start another riot. She had some good stories, one about the woman who'd just gotten out of jail and was now pregnant -- "You want to know why I was there?" she asked. "If you'd like to tell me." "My brother used to beat my mama!" She pulled out a butterfly knife from under her pillow. "But not anymore!" Then there was the family who's young child had died of salmonella -- my mother went to the house to inspect it, see if they could find the contamination, clean up things. The man answered the door, holding a shotgun and told them to get off his porch -- "you killed my baby."
The house was far too hot for me to sleep comfortably -- I ended up sleeping in the basement, which was at least 10 degrees cooler.