City Journal

I have had three months of abundant energy so I am due for slower speed. I am reading Plant Dreaming Deep by May Sarton. I am crazy over memoirs especially when written by poets.

I am glad its raining because it chases the noisy neighbors away and I love rain anyway especially after a string of sunny days. Too much sun and things are off kilter. Imagine if the sun didn't always set? That's what it starts to feel like. I have curtains from a yard sale that keep the bedroom a dim bat cave, just like my bedroom when I was very young. I remember having dark blue and black flowered curtains. I would stare at them and isolate the patterns and make them jump. I was four years old.

I am exhausted watching the city fighting the slumlords. They are losing the battle. We used to have a terrific Mayor, Susan Menard. She understood the dynamic of the slumlords, the kings of greed, vampires who suck the blood and money out of our city. These landlords are waging war over crumbs. Their aggressive negligence invites drug dealers, decay and crime all of which are rapidly destroying our city. We have fallen backwards!

One of the slumlords down the street had a tenant with a huge gray pit bull with a head like a lion who bounded out of the house, like a jack-in-the-box as anyone walked by. He was on a rope but still we could have been, or the mailman or anyone could have been, in his range. The neighbor kids and their mother told me they were terrified. I suggested they call the dog officer but they were too scared. And then it happened to us as we walked by the other night. So I called. Our dog catcher went to the tenant and told him 'You can't do this!' Where are the *@*&^#%*&^# landlords?