He said Sun, don't rise
He said Sun, don't shine
He said Don't bring tomorrow to justify tonight

I woke up at five feeling like my legs were trying to run laps across the mattress. Dammit.

Straight outta Kirkwood

Some of y'all are peace
But even one too many
Is still a decent number
For the breeding of a beast

I finally got around to reading about the Kirkwood shooting from a few weeks ago. A black man ended his decade-long feud with the city, a feud described as legendary by the newspaper, by shooting several people at City Hall. I laid blame for the shooting squarely on Cookie Thornton for running around pulling triggers. He wasn't coerced, he wasn't ignorant of his actions. He killed people with malice aforethought. He could have continued the cycle of lawsuits and arrests. He could have given up after being barred from council meetings. He could have gotten a glass of lemonade or ice water. Not happy options, but better than killing. Then someone wrote to the newspaper, "Why am I not supposed to look at blacks with suspicion, disgust and fear?"

And the blame shifted. The blame raised up, scratched under its belly, and resettled on its other side. The blame made a nice groove for itself when I read from multiple people agreeing that Meacham Park, Thornton's neighborhood, should be razed and rezoned commercial. Meacham Park has had problems. Another resident killed a police officer two years ago. A (white) delivery driver was raped by two (black) men in MP. So it's a bad area. The color of your skin doesn't give you the power to turn it into either a prison or parking lot. You can't tell me that it's hyperbole or satire because it isn't outrageous enough. Swift gets taught in English classes because he advocated eating babies and everybody got the joke. Not that anyone tried to brush these statements off; they may not be completely serious but they wouldn't complain either. That's the problem, that's what earns the blame: if a few people think they can do this in a public forum, in print as well as on the internet, there are more who think they can do it intimately, face-to-face. With friends. With family. With passers-by. With coworkers. Interracially. Indiscriminately.

Hang on to your socks. This might be worse than Lubbock.

Adrift

I wear my scars like the rings on a pimp
I live life like the captain of a sinking ship

I can get lost anywhere. Anywhere. I can have directions written out for me, maps printed, the works, and still have no idea where I'm supposed to turn. I went on a crazy tour of the StL this weekend because I missed my exit - by taking another exit. I drew my route home on a map and it looked like an upside-down Florida. Want to hear something even crazier? For one mile, I was actually back on 270 where I was supposed to be. Of course I didn't know that so I turned off at the first road with a familiar name. I got lost, found the way, and got lost again.

It gets better.

I called K for directions; she said I could stay on the road and head south, take a right turn and be home. Simple, right? Not for me. I turned onto another familiar road, thinking I would know exactly where I was on it, but I was much farther east than I had been before. I was very surprised to see what looked like the road disappearing into three others. Even with directions as simple as go straight and turn right, I still get lost.

K has another snow day from work. And there's just nothing else to say right now.