i think now i've heard everything.

before the fracas with Miss AT and Mack Daddy, she and her sister, Miss Thang, were working on a project for their family.

they're putting together a scrapbook.

of about sixty (that would be SIXTY) of their relatives who have passed away (most untimely) at the hands of other people.

yes, you read that right.

they are putting together a scrapbook of their murdered relatives. and there's at least sixty *that they know of.*

did your mind just boggle? because mine did.

****

i received a tip today for checking a woman in early from the Deep South. she'd traveled all night.

she's here for a funeral.

*sigh*

****

i don't know how they do it. i don't know how they do it. how can Buddy look at his two sons and not think of this? (he's taken time off to go to at LEAST a half dozen funerals that i know of in the last six months.) i know Miss Thang looks at her kids and the same thing goes through her mind. hellfire, it goes through mine every time i hold Miss AT's baby bonbon and i know that doesn't even come close to what she must feel.

i know they worry about the girls....the pattern just keeps repeating. but i know they anguish over the boys.

so many of them lost so early. it's no wonder relationships around here are so fucked up. how can you bond or get close to anyone if at anytime you know they could be shot dead? or, the other extreme -- how can you let them out the door when you know at anytime....

there was an eight-year-old boy not too long ago who was sleeping peacefully when at two AM a few shots rang out and lo and behold, this child was shot in his bed as he lie sleeping. (is it "lie" or "lay"? i hate that fucking word, i never know which one to use and it makes me feel stupid. *sigh*)

OMG. okay? when my kids were eight years old i didn't EVER ONCE worry about them being shot. i worried about everything else (disease, Armageddon, hit by a car, comet hitting the earth) but never about them being shot.

****

i am so, so glad i live here. no, really, i'm dead serious. i'm glad i live here for a few reasons.

-- i never would have known what it's like. the only knowledge i had was from TV...and while there's some truth there, it's nothing like the reality in the majority of aspects. i've had the opportunity to see with my own eyes and make my own decisions about how i feel, untainted by commercials and makeup. (well, maybe not makeup. there's a lot of that around here. heh.)

-- i never would have met these people i work with and live with, and that would have been a serious loss for me. even the ones i dislike i care about, if that makes sense. we're family. (even LT, the sneaky, meanhearted thing.) i love them all.

-- i wouldn't have a thing to blog about. and although you might think that's a funny statement, or me being a smart-ass (gasp!) it's true. i think by me blogging about where i live and the things that happen here has opened some eyes. maybe i'm a tiny voice for them, in some small way.

and maybe i'm just fulla shit.

heh.

****

my grandfather (on my father's side) was part black. maybe it's the tiny drops of ethnic blood that call to me. it's weird. of all the places i've ever lived, i have felt most comfortable here.

crazy, innit?

****

i have two new pieces up at Helium, if you'd care to take a look. link is up there, over there. no, to the left. yeah, that's it.

thanks.

:)



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