Politics and Industry

Or just a view of the Washington Monument that I really like. This is down next to 365 South looking past the power plant on Capital South. I only noticed it recently because the leaves have always been in the way.

I don't think L'Enfant intended for this particular sight line, but I like the contrasting monuments to America.

Primary.

One of the nice things about living in Southeast is that people have come to realize that a boarded up building doesn't have to be ugly. This building near Capitol South had a sign out front calling it a community center and even had a security guard trying to stay warm out front. I'm not sure if that means it's just under construction or this part of the building is closed.

Either way, it was nice to see a bit of art before I turned the block and found five DC bicycle cops questioning a group of kids in front of another brick housing complex. Just another lovely holiday weekend in Southeast.

Southeast Down Under

My sister's boyfriend is from Australia, so when she asked me to guess what he got her for Christmas I quickly responded with a list of possible gifts: A boomerang? Vegemite? A croc? A Subaru? A surfboard? A knife? (That's not a knife, this is a knife.)

"No," she laughed. "He got me an inflatable kangaroo that I can ride around the apartment."

I should have known. What still confuses me is how he managed to sneak down from New York and put these giant yellow Kangaroo ornaments in the trees over on Mass and 9th. However he did it, I bet a didgeridoo was involved.

Abominable

I just don't understand Christians at all.

Stop the Presses.

Do license plates still get made in prisons, or is that just something they do on tv and in movies? Because I would have loved to have seen the reaction from the incarcerated gentleman who made this plate.

They win my vote for stupidest vanity plate in DC. Anyone seen any better?

Recess.

I suppose when you have an elementary school located across the street from a liquor store, these things are bound to happen.

Keep That Door Closed.

I live in an old row house in Southeast DC which means that the windows in my living room are probably close to a hundred years old and cold air seeps in all winter long. It also means that we have a really creepy attic upstairs. And as if attics weren't creepy enough by their sheer existence, this one happens to be filled with wonderful artifacts like old x-rays and this typewriter.

Oh, and did I mention there's a children's swimming pool up there too? Well, that's a completely different story.

Navigating.

The old man crossed the sidewalk in front of me and gingerly stepped down from the curb. With his red tipped cane out in front, he tapped his way across the street. After crossing safely he folded up his cane, took out his keys and let himself into the driver's side of the shiny black Navigator. The car started up and he drove away.

Decided.

Some of my co-workers experienced 1 to 3 hour lines to vote in Maryland today. The Virginia voters didn't have any real excuses for being late, what with the early absentee voting that was allowed.

I was impressed by how long the line was at the polling place in my neighborhood. It stretches down this block and continues around the corner. All this so people can cast a vote in a part of the country that doesn't even have representation in Congress. It makes me proud.

Swamp Thing.

The Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens are a series of ponds set into the tidal marshlands on the upper Anacostia River. The ponds are set up to grow waterlilies and lotuses, but when I was there they were mostly inhabited by ducks, geese, heron and one sneaky little turtle.
The park is a bit hard to find and is bordered by a huge government housing project. That, plus the fact that they are not really accessible by public transit make the gardens a quiet place to visit on weekends that normally see big crowds at places like Great Falls.





Naturally, amid all of this scenic beauty I was most amused by this garbage can that looked like R2D2.

Undecided.

It was the end of the day and I was on my way home. The darkening fall sky framed buildings and cars in a soft evening light. I slumped down in my seat and leaned my head against the cool glass window of the bus. We pulled up to a stop at a light and I glanced outside towards a grey concrete apartment complex.

A flash of movement caught my eye and I looked up to the roof where I saw a large man in a black puffy jacket pacing near the edge. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets and his hat was pulled down low over his face. He would take a step to the edge, look over and then turn back away. I watched him do this three times, each with a longer pause at the precipice.

The stoplight finally changed to green and the bus pulled away as the man turned back from the edge once more.

Signs of the Times.

Southeast DC has a strong Democratic Party presence, so you have to be a bit weird to fill you yard with McCain/Palin signs to begin with. But can someone please explain what the fuck is going on with some of these things?

It took me a while but I finally realized that this is some sort of reference to Joe the Plumber. But what are you trying to say about him? You think he's good? You want to hang him from a tree? You hate plungers and they should be lynched? If you're trying to make a comment about a candidate's tax policy, you might want to consider something slightly more coherent.

And what the hell is going on here? Why are Obama and Hillary in A Chorus Line? Did Obama kick Hillary off a stool at some point, because I missed that debate. Would a grown up woman not have allowed Obama to join The Rockettes with Hillary while she had jelly legs? Because if that's the point you're trying to make I can't really argue with that.

A Grisham novel it was not.

I wish I had something much more interesting to write about my day as a possible juror at the Superior Court of DC. But really, the highlight of my day was eating lunch at the Cosi across the street during the two hour lunch break we were given. (Have you tried the wasabi beef sandwich? It’s quite good.)

Here is a brief overview of what I did today at the court:
I stood in a line.
I stood in a different line.
I waited in a room.
I was divided into a group of sixty and stood in a line.
I was re-divided into a group of thirty and stood in a line.
I waited in a different room.
I had a two hour lunch break.
I waited in a room again.
I spent 45 seconds answering questions from the judge and the two attorneys about my suitability as a juror.
I waited in the same room.
At 5:30 the jury was selected and I was told I could go home.

And even though I was not even considered for this trial, most likely I would have been kicked out anyway. It turns out that the (alleged) crime was committed about four blocks from my house. My legal advisor/roommate says that would have been enough to keep my off the jury even if I had been called up.

So I guess I did my civic duty and should be pleased that I was a part of civil society. I’m just happy to have gotten a lot of reading done. In a strange coincidence I received my jury summons the same day that I started reading a book about the Gulag system. It made for interesting reading at the courthouse.

Street Gleaning.

Every couple of weeks or so this box appears on the corner a few blocks from my house with this sign. I'm not sure if it's put out by someone who works at Safeway and is trying to help out hungry people or if it's just someone who is rethinking their purchase of a trailer full of potatoes, but it's always the same thing; a box of kinda old looking potatoes and a few other random food items thrown in.
The food and box are usually gone the next day.

Local News.

The only reason a camera crew would show up in my neighborhood? A crime report for the local 6 o'clock news.
Apparently a young woman who moved into the neighborhood last weekend was attacked in in her house while she was in the basement. After being stabbed 17 (!) times she fought the attacker off and is now in stable condition in the hospital with two punctured lungs and a perforated liver.
I walk by her house every day to and from work. This really bothers me.

Private Security.

Not everyone can afford Blackwater.

Outside the Library.

I guess you have to get the thing home somehow.

Join 'em.

Last weekend there was neighborhood block party on my street. I was in my room trying to ignore humanity while reading my book about the fall of Berlin, but the band playing across the street was so loud that the windows in my house were rattling. I decided to employ the same tactic that I used during my freshmen year of college when my next door neighbor had a stripper over at 4am on a Tuesday; might as well see what all of the fuss is about.

And just like freshmen year in college, it was a good idea. Not only were there barbecues and a pretty good r&b band, but there was also a trampoline and clowns and lots of cute little kids.

Southeast continues to surpass all expectations.

Local History.

My landlord had a barbecue last night in her front yard. At one point in the evening she started reminiscing about how the neighborhood has changed over the years.

“Well, there was that man that lived in the house right behind ours here. He killed his mother. Yeah, he lost his legs in the Korean War and he lived at home with his mom. She kept him locked down in the basement. I guess he got out one day because the police found her splattered all over the walls. Anyway, who wants more hamburgers?”

There's so much I don't know.

Overheard on 8th street near the Marine Barracks:

Woman: "Look at you, you’re almost 29 years old and look at yourself. You’re nothing. You’re not a man at all. What would your mother think of you? What would your grandmother think of you? You’re nothing."

Man: "You think you know a thing about me? You wouldn’t last a day on the streets without me. You don’t even know how to sell drugs."