It’s heartbreaking to see this happening.  Stories like this are becoming all too commonplace here.  And while violent crime seems to be increasing, our police force is being cut.  Forgive the soapbox moment, but when we find billions to send to bankers, the auto industry, and to spend on a pointless war… how can the regular folk go forgotten?  With teachers being paid nothing, no public access to affordable healthcare, and city infrastructures falling apart… why can’t we find billions – or even millions – to help us out?  It’s ridiculous.  And it’s an absolute injustice.  I’m pissed at what’s happening and it needs to change.

Anyways, I’ll start where I can.  There’s a vigil/memorial tomorrow morning at The Standard.  I’ll be there. We’ll arrange a bigger protest from there.  But if you’re in Atlanta, please come.  I know it’s early but this is an issue that effects us all.  And if it hasn’t yet, chances are it will.  Help build awareness to the issue before it does.

There’s a cool, rainy wind tonight and I’m sitting on my porch.  It’s dark and I’m watching the scene of Atlanta as it plays upon the perfect rectangle of “out there.”  There’s activity.  Neighbors are laughing, mixing it up on their porch, passersby are walking hurriedly to their cars, and the sounds of Little Five Points come in off the rain.  A car revs away from the light at Euclid, a person laughs as they jump a puddle at Colquitt, and a siren – in the distance – echoes its way down Moreland.  It’s a vegetable soup of sound.  And tonight it warms my soul.

There’s something particularly awesome about Atlanta in the summertime.  I love this place.  It’s alive, active, and lighthearted.  There’s a fun, young vibe about it all and people don’t seem to much care, in a good way.  No one really takes it all too seriously and, in that, there’s freedom.

Tonight I’m sort of pensive.  The darkness and the rain make it easy.  I’m kicked back in a plush, yellow-cushioned chair that looks both 70s and Roman.  It’s the chair that just showed up on my porch one day, outta nowhere… a random gift from the gods (or the homeless).  It’s been a porch fixture ever since.

A boy just rode by on his bike.  His t-shirt was soaked black with rain and he didn’t seem to much care.  I wonder how it was possible he was smoking.

This is my city.  We’re both headed for something bigger and it’s nice to be here, watching it.