Spacey Betty Hits A Car Today

Omens and Predictions
Oh no, I said. What people don’t know is the Smart has a metal frame. A cage, like sports cars, so regardless of what has happened to the body of the car, the heart of the car, where the driver is, is protected. It stops there. 

My neighbors chewed on it for a while, and agreed that the Smart is plausibly safer than it looks. Guys.  Men. Three men. 
Have you ever talked shop with men, women?
It’s fun!
We also agreed unanimously the Smart is pretty much a fancy go-kart. 
Anyway, I’m going back to my coffee, guys. I need to wake up. 
All this, following a night of poor sleep after a day of extreme tension – What next?  What will happen next? – in Baltimore on the West Side at Penn Station. Pennsylvania Avenue and Nirth Avenue, absorbing the energy there and capturing it through the magic of photography, the Beauty in Everything. 
From around noon yesterday, I traveled between the Inner Harbor and the epicenter of the riots – Pennsylvania and North Avenue. 
Everyone at the Inner Harbor was subdued, still in shock over what happened Monday night – at which point the city alone was trying to struggle with the reaction of its citizens. 
Baltimore was burning.  
Resources were stretched. When you first attempted to get through to 911, the line was busy. 
It was nerve-wracking. 
911 is  supposed to work! 
The city was in a panic. Things were imploding. Fire trucks racing in opposite directions on 25th Street: Emergency Vehicles in threes, SUVS racing down 25th Street. 
My second attempt was better. I got a recording, imploring you to stay on the line, and I eventually – within seconds – spoke to a Dispatcher, a woman. At that point, I had called because of what sounded like someone laying on the horn for 30 minutes, which didn’t make sense. But I had no idea where we were headed. 
It sounds like a horn, I said. I dunno.  But it’s been going on for too long. And like, I don’t know, bullets?  Explosion?  But nobody’s around. 

She asked me if I wanted to speak to the police officers. 
But it I didn’t know’the name of the street where I hear the sound coming from!  I told her. 
I must’ve sounded distressed. And she immediately knew how to calm me. 
Well, she said, they’ll be able to hear – since I could hear – it when they get there. And for some reason that instantly reduced my level of stress. 
Ohhhhh, I said. 
I immediately went went down to investigate further while still on the line with her and to my surprise it was eerily quiet outside. Nothing out of the ordinary. I had expected some sort of traffic jam 2 blocks East of here, but the streets were deserted – except for about 4 kids who were walking down the street. For some reason, they made me feels uncomfortable. I just had this weird feeling they were connected to what was happening. But what was I gonna say about them?  It was 20 minutes past midnight. I left it out. But I intend to add it to the report. 
It’s weird, I said. It’s empty out here.  And that’s around when we hung up. I went back upstairs and decided I was gonna investigate this further. And for some reason, I went to the kitchen, which is in the rear of the apartment (whereas I face 25th) and was by the stove and glanced out the kitchen window on the wall to my right and saw Fire!  
It’s a fire! I yelled. It’s a fire!
i called 911 again, went through the same sequence as the first time, and once again, the Dispatcher, was a woman.  
It’s a fire, I screeched. I think a car is burning. She began communicating with the Fire Department while still talking to me. 
I can’t remember what happened next. 
I was outside at the corner with a bunch of other people standing there. No, wait. Was that earlier?
i remember asking the people if anybody had called 911. 

Now this should illustrate the effects and extreme consequences of Economic Disparity. 

No one there had a phone. 

Now how many of your neighbors don’t have phones. There were at least 15 people standing there. Anyway, I remember calling 911 at that point. 


Things That Never Made It Into Print

By Things That Never Made It Into Print

Keep it simple ... Radical ... Writer, Artist, Dancer, Musician, Chicago Betty

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