So I came home from work tonight, avoiding a birthday party to recover and catch up on Lost (I know, I know). I sat here for a few hours deleting hardcore from the mature section and watching the Colbert Report when I heard a few pops. I'm used to it here from constant fireworks and motorcyles but it's like that Silver Jews lyric, "Something's added to the air."
Five cop cars. Two more. Three more and two vans. I went down to the liquor store to get a few more bottles of wine and ran into Omar, friend and clerk. Turns out it was a double murder no more than 4 blocks away. He asked me to grab an extra copy of the newspaper tomorrow because whenever there is a shooting in the neighborhood, it's the only time the Chronicle sells out. The incident apparently escalated to an armed stand off, of which I've heard no resolution.
Two hours later and all is well. I'm trying to get PierceHannigan's attention in the forums when I heared honks and yelling. Someone had passed out in the intersection right in-front of my house. I wake my girlfriend up calling 911. Is it a full moon? Is it Spring in Hell? The operator thought I was implying a hit and run, but the dude was just laying there. I don't fucking know why.
All's resolved. Cat Steven's is on Thursday's Colbert. I'm resolved to trying to take in his nearly awkward melodies when I see a group of teenagers scatter away from a young girl who is passed out in the same fucking intersection. Two young girls are carrying her across the intersection and dropping her. She's unresponsive.
Two firetrucks just rolled up and a cop car and an ambulence. 30 minutes of this girl not moving while her recovery crew is laughing and she's on a stretcher on her way to a famous tomorrow.