When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.

Except when they aren't.

I have nothing intelligent to say about the shooting this weekend. It seems like every week, there's a new shooting; I'm pretty sure someone killed a school vice-principal last week. And to be honest, I came of age when school shootings became common, in the 1990s; don't forget, there were a lot before Columbine. But being numb doesn't mean I think it's OK, or unimportant. I just know that I'm not the smartest kid in the room.

So. Before we tear ourselves apart; before anyone invokes Sarah Palin or Karl Marx or schizophrenia or Bleeding Kansas; I just want to listen to some music.



Make me laugh, funnyman:



Not funny, but he's right.

We live in hard times, not end times.

When Hunger Comes A-Rap-Rat-A-Tat, Rat-A-Tat At The Window...

I know I haven't been keeping up with posting. Sometimes I feel like there's nothing to say, and sometimes I feel too shell-shocked to say anything.

Three days ago, I rode my bike out to a local poultry farm over in Hatfield, hoping to get some eggs. They were sold out. "Sold out? How can you be sold out?"

"Look, chickens aren't magical, you know, it's not like you can just wish up some eggs from 'em."

And so I tried riding down to Merrymead, the dairy. It isn't far from town--in fact, it's halfway between my place and my parents down in Worcester. There was a line when I got there--people are panic-buying, hoarding whatever food they can. I admit, I'm trying to do that too, but you can't really hoard dairy or eggs--they go bad quickly.

"Half-gallon of 2%, please."

"Seven dollars."

I didn't know what to say.

"Seven dollars?"

"Look, you wanna go somewhere else? They'll probably charge you ten."

"For a half-gallon?"

"You think it's cheap to run a farm?"

---

I know how expensive it can be, though not in the sense they mean.

A few tomatoes and squash had started coming in two days ago--small, of course, not ripe yet.


Yesterday morning, they were gone. Picked off, presumably eaten.

This is my food. I planted it, I'm going to harvest it.

So.

So I got a shotgun. I just want to scare the thieves, I don't want to shoot them. I can't really blame anyone who's hungry for stealing, but they're taking food out of our mouthes.

So tonight, I'm sleeping on a cot in the mudroom. I've hooked up the motion sensors, and if they go off, I'll be right there to scare them away.

I hope.

You know, I'm not anti-gun, but I've never wanted to own one. At least not until now.

God, I just wish this would be over.

---

In other news, I haven't heard from Kate for a couple of days. I don't like it--I don't know what's going on with her right now, and I'm worried. I offered her the spare bedroom, but she still won't take it.

I just don't know what to do.

Week 10: Heroes and Villains

Kate was riding to the co-op on her bike. She'd been warned that it wasn't safe, but really, what's the point of having a bike if you can't use it?

A group of young men stepped out in front of her. She tried to go around, but they grabbed her, caught her, took the bike and her wallet. They left her self alone, though, when a neighbor came out side and fired a gun in the air. For this small miracle, she was grateful.

The neighbor--Arthur--was an artist; she knew him from the local Buddhist zendo. He didn't seem the type to own a gun.

"What, and Buddhists don't practice martial arts, either?" he laughed, picking her up off the ground.

"I--yeah. Well, thank god."

He offered her an escort to the co-op. He went back into the three-story house; old houses, Victorian, full of gables and back staircases, and backyard gardens. She followed. He grabbed a handgun, concealed it, and put a jacket on.

"Isn't that illegal?"

"So's mugging."

"I thought you were an artist."

"I am. I'm also not stupid."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean you're stupid. Look, I'm an artist, but I was also a Marine."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Desert Storm ."

"Wow. I had no idea."

"You ready to go?"

Kate paused. "Do you think it's safe?"

"Probably not. But we've gotta eat, right?"

She nodded, and followed him outside.

---

I'd just like to thank WWO for awarding this post. :)