dumpster man

yesterday night I was walking home from the station, and although the area is perfectly safe, the block the station actually is on can sometimes creep into sketchville. it was like that last night when I got off the train, a little late, but made later, it seemed, by the fact that there isn't a single lamppost on that block.

I've walked that block a million times, twice a day, actually to and from work, and I don't usually think twice. but it was dark out, and unusual, I was the only person getting off.

the block is a short one, and at the end, the streets are well lit and there is usually some traffic. but there are some large trees on the way, and a couple of walls that lead into driveways. and it was out from behind one of these that what I thought was the dumpster man from mulholland drive lurched out at me.

now I know that it was just a very drunk man. and I've seen plenty of those, and dealt with plenty of them. but I could not care less what his story was. all I know is that I was alone and it was dark and this crazy man came out of nowhere and started grabbing me and even though he wasn't big, and he wasn't hurting me, I couldn't get away and I was really afraid.

we struggled for a bit, and I think I was too afraid to scream. or didn't even think of anything but trying to get away. and as we stumbled across the sidewalk, he tripped on a large root and momentary let go.

I ran.


I know this can happen anywhere, any time. but I really want to get out of this city.

ladies & children hair dressing

nothing, just that I love this building.

comfort house

I'm just going to have to assume the worst on this one.

Philadelphia is my home (for now)

a photoessay:

reunion

I haven’t seen david in ages and ages, and yet it was just like old times to meet up with him here in philadelphia.

just like, except for the fact that we sat around waiting for each other for almost half an hour, separated by about eight steps, "I can’t believe we’ve both been waiting here for so long--I kept looking over but all I saw was some random blonde girl."

but the conversation fell right into the old patterns, without a hitch, "who drinks a bloody mary at 9 in the morning? someone who woke up at 5 in the morning, that's who. hey, where's that bartender?"

catching up on the old, "really, he's the person I hate the least. he's not so bad. in fact, if you didn't hate him so much, you'd probably really get along. let me know if you see that bartender, okay?"

and then of course, the updates on the new and exciting, "yeah, hmm, so I can't remember if I got down on one knee or not this time, but I think I may have. or not. seriously, where's the bartender?"

it was great to see you, dave-a-doodle. happy birthday.