on May 12, 2021 by Amijo Estabania in Stories, Comments (0)

Down by the river

I saw her from a distance, walking right in the middle of the sidewalk and about halfway into the block. I was just about to enter the disabled sidewalk ramp and continue on my way to the park, but then I realized there would be no room for us both the way she was walking.

Actually, I am being polite. I did not like the look of her from the moment I saw her, and as she was walking in the middle with a crack head’s inconsideration, she was already looking at me when I looked at her. I have learned over the years that unless you are a movie star, if everyone is looking at you before you are looking at them, you should leave that place. She was as tan as a retired New Yorker a decade after the move to Florida, but this was the kind of tan that can only be attained by the sun shining intensely through a layer of human oil and fat excreted through the skin and polished with a layer of dirt. It was basically a bum tan.

As I paused at the ramp entering that sidewalk, I quickly decided to cross the street, but I made it look like I wanted to cross anyways. Now the woman was ten steps from me. I think she knew I didn’t want to walk past her. There was a car coming and I could not cross, that gave another moment for the gap to be bridged and then she was in talking distance. Oh! How fast a half a block can go!

She muttered quite sharply, “make sure to teach her about stranger danger” and “don’t let anyone touch her genitals”. She was referring to the baby 👶 I was strolling around. I sure wish that last car hadn’t been there, I could have had a pretty peaceful walk with my little girl.

Peanut Gallery Notes to My Generation

on September 3, 2015 by r.a.w. in Abuse, Comments (0)

I can’t say that I’ve seen the best minds of my generation do much of anything. The baby Gen-X/Millennial 1.0 crossover demographic whom for the sake of brevity I will […]

Read more...

Another Day in Studio City

on July 27, 2015 by r.a.w. in Stories, Comments (0)

The guy sat there all shaggy hair and old clothes in front of the Union Bank on Ventura Boulevard. He was likely a bum; had a few things with him. […]

Read more...

A Birthday Party One Time

on July 9, 2015 by r.a.w. in Stories, Comments (0)

This was back many years before he drown. I had this big redheaded oaf of a friend named Jeff and I always looked forward to hanging out with him and […]

Read more...

Jamaica Me Crazy or A Misanthrope’s Journey to the Land of Riddim

on July 7, 2015 by r.a.w. in Abuse, Stories, Comments (0)

I didn’t write a solitary word in Jamaica. That’s not to say that I didn’t make a note of everything, but my idea of writing in the jungle was washed […]

Read more...

Almost Over

on March 10, 2015 by r.a.w. in Stories, Comments (0)

Krebs sat nursing a beer in the clapboard bar adjacent to the Coconut Mallory while Cassie, far too young to be a grandmother at forty something asked him about life […]

Read more...

A Sick Man

on February 12, 2015 by r.a.w. in Abuse, Comments (0)

I am a sick man. Or more specifically I am a plagued man. There is no point in time where I am not plagued and my health and nerves and […]

Read more...

When Jesus Left Hollywood

on January 16, 2015 by r.a.w. in Abuse, Politi-hole, Comments (0)

It’s a shame to think that in the twenty first century in a country as progressive as the United States we still have to hear the war cry of racism […]

Read more...

Lunch Break

on December 3, 2014 by r.a.w. in Stories, Comments (0)

The day the Wagstaff boy came in and said he’d found a little negro kid dead by the river we were all hunched over our lunches dreading getting back out […]

Read more...

The View

on November 17, 2014 by r.a.w. in Stories, Comments (0)

The claim of a view from Catalina to downtown was bullshit. Maybe it was possible at sometime, but the smog usually made it so there was no way o see […]

Read more...