March 27, 2008

As you know, Garrett is doing well and we're hoping it will continue. His nightmares and evening discomfort still makes it tough for him to sleep, and he's really missing home right now. I finally had to admit that the stress was begining to built in me, so I started working out again. I thought I'd take you all along with me on a nice leisurely jog I took.I went for a well needed run through some kind of urban amateur arts n graphics gathering spot just down from where we are living. There was a nice cornucopia of mixed gang graffiti in that stretch, along with all the typical twisted urban youth peelings……y’know, cig butts, hypodermic needles, discarded do rags, love peelings from some past romantic interludes, empty bottles of a foty, clothing, more bottles, backpacks that had been ransacked and discarded, human waste collection sites, and of course the always present evidence of higher learning and health food addictions………..nudie magazines and junk food wrappers. Much of the tagging itself told quite a story. In one such case, it seems that Flaco and Puro are having a dispute, and quite proud of their respective neighborhoods being West Side and East Side, respectively. Though both quite humbly (yah, right) spew their own loyalties to Sur XIII. It also seems evident that someone who frequented this nature walk has very little love for the Inca Boyz.

I then jogged on past the creek flowing with grayish goo as discarded soft drink cups bobbed effortlessly along. A quarter mile away, past a few stripped bikes, the obligatory tire or two, a crusted blob of what once was a sleeping bag and a mine field of broken bottles, I headed north behind some businesses. Ahhh….here’s what I was looking for. A nice jog through some regurgitated dumpster seepage, back around behind the hut that appears to be a reluctant graveyard of tagged. damaged and dumped news paper machines, past a "do not enter" sign marked proudly on the back by some nice young child whose initials must be L K ,and then on through the upper parking lot of a medical center that seemed all too common, short one low rider pickup with it's windshield smashed and tires slashed.

After about a mile or so of this exquisite safari, and having yet to come face to face with even a small herd of the local wildlife known scientifically as thugalorus gangstastupidus, I decided to re-route my final leg as I realized suddenly and embarrassingly, that I had failed to purchase a single “Urban Terrorist Hunting License”, and thus did not want to get caught poaching.
We live in such a fun neighborhood.
Hope you're all well.
JD