Saturday

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"The poet's role, like the shaman of old, is to cross boundaries between the living and the dead, between this world and the other world. Translating is another way of crossing boundaries." - Andrew Schelling
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Since Thursday night, Michael and I both have experienced anxiety, anger, and fear. To think if the tenant's front windows had blown out, I would have been hit because I sit by our front window. It is all too much to process in a day or more. I slept most of the day yesterday and Michael was wound up and angry. Today I feel a little more normal although I have no desire to leave the house. Michael has been sleeping off and on all day. The rest of our neighbors are heaving a sigh of relief that we won't have to worry about any more explosions.

Yesterday the landlord came out and inspected the apartment. All that work they did after the drug dealer was evicted has all been undone. Michael took me around back to see the slider glass in both doors had been blown out. Then he showed me a video he made prior to the landlord had come, the top of the stove had been blown up. There were burn marks all over the kitchen.

I cannot fathom people doing this. As one neighbor said, how many times had he done this and came up with a success. I just don't know, it all seems stupid.

mz. em

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Currently reading:

-- Sue Grafton ABC Gift Collection: "A is for Alibi, B is for Burglar, C is for Corpse"
-- "Living, Loving & Learning" - Leo Buscaglia, Ph.D.
-- "The Daily Book of Art/356 readings that teach, inspire & entertain" - day 138
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