• I’ve been kidnapped by aliens. Really. Warner Bros is remaking Invasion of the Body Snatchers here in Baltimore. (Nicole Kidman, Jeremy Northham, and some cute blond kid). We’re printing their posters and signs at my job. The lead designer asked for people to send in snapshots. I have an archive on my computer and sent in a few. The next day we printed posters of The Missing for use as backdrops in the movie. She’d included my co-worker Ryan and me in one of the posters. If you've seen us, call *66, please.
• Aliens have invaded my yard. I had a crunchy granola Mom (“Anyone want to trade their Twinkie for one of my carob chip cookies?”). I went to a crunchy granola college (Hampshire. Vegetarian line in the cafeteria with vegan options). So, like any self-respecting cruncher, I compost my veggie waste into a lovely backyard composter. Last night when I let the dog out, I saw something gray dart from the compost container to the base of the shed. I tried to convince myself that it was a rabid, nocturnal squirrel. But no, it was true. There are rats in the compost bin. Jrex and I are meeting at home tonight to take the composter apart and shovel rotting veggies into industrial garbage bags. Hopefully, Muttola will prove her worth and kill some vermin!
• Yesterday in church a friend pulled me into the hall. Apparently one of our homeless visitors seemed to be really out of it and she wasn’t sure what to do. Being the only person who’s lived in the inner city, I’m treated as the resident homeless expert. The guy (named Kevin) was shaking and his buddy, Charles, said that Kevin had a stroke last night. I thought he might be in Delerium Tremor. (I have no medical training, but a shaking homeless man is most likely going through alcohol withdrawal. Potentially fatal.) As I tried to invite him to sit, he collapsed into the couch and became unresponsive. We called 9-1-1. In the midst of making Kevin comfortable and getting a towel in case he threw up, I asked Charles how well they know each other, “Off and on for years. He bit me once, so I know he doesn’t have AIDS! I’m monitoring his alcohol intake since his stroke, I don’t think 2 oz of vodka before church would do this.”
The weird thing for me is that the whole interaction with Kevin and Charles felt more real to me than the chats after church with random college kids about what they’re studying. That’s what I loved about living in the inner city. No one has time for BS. It’s all about survival and helping each other when you’re down. It’s not a random homeless guy in a door, it’s Joe and you know his Mom kicked him out again and you know the Drop-in-Center will take him. I don’t know the resources or the people here yet. But that’s beginning to change.
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