Repeat.

I've been sitting here, trying to find a way to set a setting. A warm, humid night. Streets surprisingly empty. No one is stooping tonight, even though it's perfect weather for it. The ice cream truck that is usually blaring "Do your ears hang low?" is not sitting in front of the fire hydrant is absent. And I peacefully walked with Galt, allowing him to stop and sniff, and pee on people's flowers as he wished.

The only people I see, a pair of children about 6, run to their gate and ask if they can pet my dog. Sure. They think he's soft, and pretty, and I tell them to have a good night, don't wander too far, and we turn the corner.

I make it about 2 houses down, and I see a kid, about 15, come sprinting out of the alley. He runs to the middle of the street, and turns right, away from me. I stop. Reflexively, Galt sits down, and looks at me, awaiting instruction. I look at him, and reassure him. You're a good dog, Galt. Good boy.

More kids come sprinting down the alley. Probably six of them, the same age or so as the first, and they see him. They turn to follow. One kid stops, cocks his arm, and launches a rock. The first kid, who is probably 20 yards ahead of them, clutches the back of his head, and crumples to the ground. They are yelling. The voices are upbeat, congratulatory, but I can't make out any specific words. More kids come running out of the alley behind the first group. Three or four of them. They stop, and look in my direction. They see me. I see them. They're probably 15 feet away from me, and down the street there is the sound of kicking. Of vengeance. But between me and these other kids, just silence.

It feels like minutes pass, but it's more like a handful of seconds. I pull at Galt's leash, and turn and walk the other way. I turn the corner, heading back the way I came. Galt's admirers are gone, and I walk quickly back toward home. I hear a siren approaching, but I never see any lights by the time I make it back home.

More Logan Square.

It seems that every night for the past 2 weeks or so, I've heard police sirens racing by. Every night car alarms go off a number of times. Every night, there is yelling and running down the street - the sound of chase.

And every night I think "The people who say that poverty and crime have no relation" know neither poverty, nor crime.

I have to get out of Logan Square.

"Who you with?"
"No one."
He demanded to know again. "Who you with?"
"No one man."
He leaned out, so his back was to the aisle, and he kept pulling the hood of his sweatshirt closer to his face, so to make sure no one else could see him. "Don't lie to me Nigga. I know. Who the fuck you with?"
"Really, no one."
"Bullshit, nigga. I'm a King. I can tell."

He was bald, about 6'3". He had a thin mustache, and some hair on his chin. His stare bore into me, his pupils huge from some sort of drug. His head was cocked slightly to the side the whole time, and he struggled to keep his eyes completely open.

"What are you listening to?"
"Rodrigo y Gabriella."
"What the fuck is that?"
I told him it was Spanish guitar. He wouldn't like it.
He leaned his head very close to mine and "I want to hear it" escaped from clenched teeth. He never took his eyes off me.
I handed him my headphones, but didn't hand him the player. He listened, and asked what else I had on it.
"Not much."
"I think I'll take it, and find out myself."
He tried to reach into my pocket to grab my mp3 player out of it. I grabbed his wrist firmly. "No."
"What motherfucker?" Suddenly his eyes opened all the way. His pupils became a little smaller. His focus was tangible.
I told him that he, in fact, was not taking it.
He looked at me, unsure of how to react. He decided by throwing my headphones back at me. "Keep it bitch. But get the fuck up. We're getting out. We gonna fight."
I slowly placed the headphones in my pocket and met his gaze. "Alright."

"What nigga? You wanna fight?"
"Of course not." I'm not sure how steady my voice sounded. I stood up.
"You don't wanna fight? Then why'd you say okay?"
I stared at him for a second before giving my reply. "If we're gonna fight, we're gonna fight. Ain't nothin I can do about that but defend myself."
He pointed to the door, and said "You first."
Instead of getting out the back door of the bus, I slowly walked to the front of the bus, and just stood by the door. He didn't follow me, but stood by the back door. Waiting for me to get off.

So we waited. A block went by. Then 2 more. We picked up some passengers, and still I stood by the front door. He sat down, but didn't avert his look.
A few blocks later, and we hit some traffic. He was looking out the window. He looked out, then to his side, then to his back.
As he was looking back, I asked the driver if I could just get out here. He said nothing, but the door opened, and I slipped quickly out. I took a few quick steps til I got to the corner, and made the turn.

I didn't look back until I had sprinted halfway down the street.The sun was setting, and I couldn't tell who the person was, walking down the street toward me. I turned back around and continued my hard sprint. Around that first corner, and I kept running. This block was empty. I got halfway down the street, and turned back to look again. Still empty. I slowed my pace, but continued to jog to the next street, looking over my shoulder two or three more times. I turned left, and slowed to walk. As soon as I got to the next busy street, I leaned on the streetlight. Finally, after I caught my breath, I walked slowly to the train station. I didn't see him again.



I'd have thought eventually I'd get used to situations like this. But I haven't. I don't think I ever will.

A pain.

I've been vehicularly impaired since August. Which really isn't that big of a deal. I haven't had a car for the vast majority of my adult life.

However, before, I also had grocery emporiums within a short walking distance. Now, though, it's 2.6 miles to the nearest decent store. I walked it last week, backpack filled the brim with food, and it was a hell of a walk.

In the summer, it's not really that bad. I can make it to the store, shop, and make it back in about an hour via bike. I decided to go to the store after work. Even though it was more 'on the way' than coming from home, it still took me about 2 hours.

Walkscore gives my neighborhood an 82/100: link. But I disagree with the grocery store options. Overpriced, shitty selection, and it's hard to ask questions, as I don't speak Spanish.