After a recent visit to the family, little stories bubbled up. I realized, remembered, this blog. Maybe its the surface where the bubbles pop. So I resume. And I allow myself all topics loosely related to race, racial healing, and all the taking ourselves so seriously stuff. I allow myself 2) to take myself less seriously.
Ok here's a little story I just told Kaki, Damear told me when I went down there to watch Dawn of the Planet etc.
Damear's in the Howard Street neighborhood, has a friend who lives near the house Kaki still owns and which the three lived their first year. So Amear walks by and sees one day the front door's open. He knows the folks who've rented there now a decade or more--former housemates of Kaki, all in advanced recovery and loosely linked to the renegade nun's recovery community where Kaki used to lead AVP workshops. Anyway, Mear's been to the house, knows the folks inside. He calls but no one answers. He goes in halfway into the livingroom calls again no answer. Sounds like they're home but whatever busy.
So he goes into the kitchen--Kaki loves this part--and get some juice out of the fridge and pours a glass. And drinks it I suppose and goes back out.
Damear has a medium?serious girlfriend. Gabby.