I’ve felt under the weather today, and everything outside’s exploding, so I’m planning to keep today’s post brief. I’ve barely left the house since January 6, and barely wanted to, because it’s an awful time to be here.
My neighborhood is particularly bleak right now. Not my block, where the biggest issue this week was some honking at a U-Haul. The blocks just above and just below are seeing multiple shootings each week, in the afternoon and late at night. Three evenings ago, the sun had just gone down when there was a long burst of fire, like firecrackers all set off at once.
People are dying, none of whom I know. A fence on one of these blocks is decked with empty liquor bottles; on the other block, the bottles line a curb. I’ve been strangely incurious about it. Nothing I write about has an immediate effect on my life as whether a stray bullet from a nearby gunfight will hit me. But I’d rather not think about it.
I thought about this when I sat down because there is a frequent sound of helicopters in the city right now. The unsettling thought, when you hear them, is that someone else got shot, and the comforting thought is that the city’s being “hardened” - fun term to think about - ahead of inauguration.
If you don’t live here, you may not appreciate the balance D.C. strikes between security theater and walkability. The balance is shifting, and I don’t know how far.
I love DC and miss it greatly, and the past year of what’s happened there has been simply heartbreaking.