Tag: 7-11

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Gunshots Heard at 4:30 PM

Postaday for May 5: Idyllic. What does your ideal community look like? How is it organized, and how is community life structured? What values does the community share?

Yesterday at about 4:30 PM I heard gunshots. It took about 30 seconds for that to filter through me head. We watch so much violent TV, play violent video games, read violent books, visit violent web sites, drink violent coffee, shop at violent discount markets, eat violent bananas, sleep in violent beds with violent pillows and dream about so many violent cows wearing tutus and playing violent flutes that we sometimes don’t recognize real violence when it happens. But eventually I dialed 911.

I was connected with the state troopers, and I could barely understand what the fella on the phone was saying. I told him I heard what sounded like gunshots, and he asked me if I was in Seattle. When I said, yes, he said he would put me through to Seattle PD. The phone rang and rang and rang. The guy was still listening though.

Then I heard sirens, lots and lots of sirens, and I told the guy this. He took my name and number. Half an hour later the Seattle PD called me, asked me what my emergency was. I told him about the shots, and they said, yeah— multiple reports. He thanked me and said to keep my eyes open!

More sirens, and helicopters. At one point I could see the helicopters through one of my skylights. It was right above our house! I set the alarm. I found a website with a police scanner, and listened to that for a while. Heard nothing about what was going on, but did here a lot of other chatter. The police in Seattle are not idle.

Later in the evening, I went to the Seattle Police Blotter website, and read:

Officers are investigating after gunfire erupted in the Haller Lake neighborhood Monday afternoon.

Several residents called into 911 after hearing gunshots at about 4:30 PM in the 13500 block of Roosevelt Way North. So far, officers have found no victims or damage as a result of the shooting.

Officers have collected shell casings at the scene and are speaking with witnesses now. According to witnesses the suspect shot several times out of his car window and then fled the scene. Police are searching the area for the suspect vehicle.

I’m guessing it happened at the 7-11, the one I go to for Cokes and frozen burritos.

My house sits well off the road, at the end of a long driveway. I have easy access to highway 5, and shopping is convenient, with options less than a mile away. There’s that 7-11, which has a gas station next to it. There are parks and churches around here, bus stops, schools, and not a heck of a lot of traffic.

I like all of that. But here’s my favorite part, which I’ll quote from the report above:

Several residents called into 911

People are people, and things are going to happen, no matter where you go in the world. This is my ideal community— a place where folks let each other be, but keep their eyes and ears open, just in case.

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and his heart was going like mad

Postaday for May 1st. Your Life, the Book: From a famous writer or celebrity, to a WordPress.com blogger or someone close to you — who would you like to be your biographer?

James Joyce, mostly because I don’t like him. He’s overrated. He had a good thing going with Dubliners, and then screwed it all up with Ulysses. But he made Bloom the idiot seem epic. Bloom the ordinary, Bloom the pervert.

My life has been a nightmare, just like Circe chapter, except that was Night Town, not nightmare. Doesn’t matter. I never read that damn book. I tried, when I was a grad student in English. I ended up writing a paper about how often the damn book’s been republished. Night town, night mare, and me a pig, slave to his appetites. Another lie. I’m no slave, and the people who offer me up on tarnished platters the pills of my illnesses do so without even knowing who I am.

Nor does Joyce know who I am, the perfect objective biographer,  to tell my story and it’s no story at all.

Or maybe Camus: “He fornicated and read the papers.” Or Ford Madox Ford, not because he said “Higher than the beasts, lower than the angels, stuck in our idiot Eden.” But because “Ford Madox Ford” in large red letters on the cover of my biography would look really excellent.

No, it has to be Joyce. Here’s how he would write my trip to the 7-11 to get Cokes and frozen burritos:

“A few light coughs from the highway made him turn to the window. He winced: the sun had broken a few clouds. He gazed numbly the cherry blossoms leaves, wilted and scattering, that blanketed the long driveway below him. His stomach whispered him to walk the driveway to the road. Yes, the sunlight would fool him and he’d want for a jacket. Light reflecting off the sparkling asphalt, reflecting off the green painted road sign, the white of the letters, reflecting off the sharp metal perched in the telephone pole nests coasting again the white and blue sky. His stomach indifferent to the light and his shivering arms, wallet in his back pocket fat against this waddle, towards the convenience store, for sugar and grease.”

Okay, no he wouldn’t, not at all. That’s the fun of writing, not knowing what’s going to come out until it’s written. Maybe James Joyce can take overlong to write my biography too, and the fun will be in not knowing what will happen to me until he runs out of ink.

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You Don’t Need Kentucky to Have a Derby

Postaday for January 23rd: Easy Fix. Write a post about any topic you wish, but make sure it ends with “And all was right in the world.”

Jason Edwards bursts out of his front door! He doesn’t even bother closing it behind him! He skips across the porch, down the three steps and into the sunshine, across his lawn and leaps! across the flower bed into the driveway. Runs up the drive way. Arms pumping. Untucked unbuttoned Hawaiin shirt flapping. Look at him go!

He’s to the street! Cuts right, looks for cars. Listen for cars, only hears the pounding of his heart and the wind in his ears. Crosses the street so that he’s running against traffic! If there was any traffic! But there is no traffic! His house is halfway down the block and he’s covered that half!

The cross street is busy! The cross road is at a funny angle, it confuses cars! An opportune pause as two cars turning left try to figure out who should go first! Jason Edwards darts between them! He’s next to the abandoned coffee stand now. And now he’s next to the gas station. And now he’s in the 7-11 parking lot. His feet are slapping the asphalt. He’s pounding right towards the front door.

The guy who works there sees him coming. He’s already ready. He knows what to do. Jason is on fast approach. He pulls up so as to not break through the door’s windows. He hauls the door open. He cuts a sharp right, up the aisle past gun magazines and phone cards and gift cards and miscellaneous car interior supplies. You know, cigarette lighter adapters for phone charges and stuff. He’s at the back wall, where they keep the drinks! The first one’s full of milk products!

And now he shuffles left. He doesn’t bother to turn, just shuffles left. Hands tap the cooler handles, one two three, He’s opening the fourth one! He’s grabbing a 20 oz plastic bottle of Mountain Dew! It’s cold in his hand! He closes the door, the bottle instantly humidifies, his hand is wet! He doesn’t even notice!

Jason Edwards is moving with precision. He’s turning to jet up the back aisle. He makes a left at the coffee machines. He all but leaps forward, all but lands right in front of the frozen burrito selection. There’s so many to choose from. His eyes dart over bean and cheese, cheese and chili, green chile, green bean and cheese. Wait, no, he read that last one wrong! It’s beef and bean! The wrapper is red! He grabs the beef and been frozen burrito in the red wrapper!

But it’s not really frozen! It’s only refrigerated! This bodes well for Jason Edwards. His hand is in his back pocket. How is that possible if he’s carrying a cold refreshing Mountain Dew and frozen  I mean refrigerated but pre-cooked beef and bean burrito! He’s holding them both in one hand! Folks, they’re keeping each other cold! He’s fishing out his wallet.

He’s already been run up at the register. He swipes his credit card as he runs by! He hits the door, hears the register beep the beep of credit card transaction approval! He’s out the door! The guy behind the counter adds his receipt to the stack of receipts he keeps for him in case he ever comes back in a more leisurely fashion!

He’s outside! He’s running across that same parking lot! Past that same gas station and abandoned coffee stand! And now he’s crossing the intersection! Oh my word, there’s no traffic! He’s got half a block to go. The sun is shining off the bald spot on his head. He’s got the Mountain Dew in one hand and the burrito in the other! The burrito is getting warmer! I can’t beleive it! It’s warming up in his hand as he runs!

He’s at the driveway! He turns left and runs down the driveway! He leaps the flowers, goes across the lawn, up the porch steps! His front door still open, has been open this whole time! Can you believe it! He slams the door behind him, darts up the stairs, three steps, eight steps, twelve steps, fifteen! Down the hall to his home office. Bounces off the door frame! Lands in his office chair! And the crowd! Goes! Wild!

Jason Edwards is sitting in his office chair. He chest rises and falls rapidly as he gets his breath. He carefully, almost gingerly, sets his warmed-up burrito and cold Mountain Dew on his desk. Carefully, almost gingerly, opens the Mountain Dew. Cautious against the foam. But there’s no foam. Just that effervescent aaaaaah.

He takes a long, slow pull on the bottle. Tears open the burrito, slides a bit out, takes a massive bite. His mouth is full of beef and bean burrito. He wiggles his work computer’s mouse. His work computer wakes up. After a few seconds, a reminder pops up, telling him he has a conference call. In 5 minutes.

Jason Edwards sits back, relaxes. Takes another swallow of Mountain Dew. Takes another bit of burrito. Wishes he’d written this in past tense. But, that was okay. He’d done what he’d set out to do. Which is all any man can ever hop to do. And all was right in the world.