And hey y’all. Just rolled back into town and, given the 5,691 things I have to do over the next three days, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. I considered, after cleaning out the car, sitting down and starting the list in order of priority (because that’s how I do. The Sticky Note industry owes me royalties) but then I decided that, given the exhaustion after a few days with the family down South and a couple 9 hour drives, was borderline — if not outright — insanity. And to prove I was sane, I decided to go for a run. Until my legs gave me the finger. So, instead, I walked up to CoHi, got a fairly decent bottle of red wine at a reasonable price (because CoHi offers such things), switched on the All-Star game, and am hammering out a little note to you kids. It’s how I decompress, too. The thing is…I’m absolutely brain dead and have very little to offer. But I can give you this:
I also had the opportunity to visit Lake Burton, where a friend of mine from High School had a lake house that we abused many a weekend. Lots of good happened this weekend. Too much to put here. Now, back to the grind…
On that note, I’ve resisted talking about the Zimmerman trial because I think it’s a tragedy that’s been politicized in a really ugly way and makes me very, very angry at the irresponsibility of some of our highest elected officials. I’ll say the following and leave it there: I believe the jury made the right call, the person I feel most empathetic toward in the entire circus is Trayvon Martin’s father, and I’m still confused and saddened by the fact that these two presumably civilized people couldn’t confront each other during a clear misunderstanding without Trayvon freaking out and becoming violent, and without Zimmerman feeling paranoid and behaving arguably over-zealously. That, to me, is the real issue we need to address. When did conversation become confrontation, and why did it escalate the way it did? Why so much fear from both actors? I have my opinions on the answer to those questions, but I’ll leave them for you to work out for yourselves.
Another work-related piece of news is an event next week hosted by Reason to discuss this book. I’m looking quite forward to it because I’ve not yet heard Balko speak or met him, but am a great admirer of his writing and thinking. So there’s that (I’m fading now).
Um, let’s see, my friend Ali P. that I used to dance with back in Athens, Ga. has started teaching a contemporary class on Mondays down on H Street and I’m seriously salivating to take her class again. She’s a good egg and an absolute athlete on two legs. This kid can move. Aces.
Finally, as I was driving back to DC today, this song came on the radio and, because a great love of mine from a past life dubbed it my song (it apparently reminded him of me. considering it’s about heroin addiction I was never sure what to make of that…), I’ve not been able to ever listen to again since we went our separate ways a million years ago. The last time I heard it, in fact, was when he and I went and saw the band play at the 40 Watt. We broke up for good — after trying for a few years — shortly thereafter and the song was quickly turned off or the channel was changed or I walked out of the room whenever it lilted through the air. I listened to it all the way through today. I’m glad I did.