justolearytm-blog

[justolearytm-blog]

Hillary Clinton Is The Actual, Literal, For Real Definition Of Big Money

So now it is 2015 and when it comes to people running for president in 2016, it is obvious who is in and who is out. Anyone who hasn’t announced their candidacy by now, is simply going to miss out because a lot of presidential campaigns are announced at least a year in advance. When it comes to who is going to win the presidency, that is obvious too. Hillary Rodham Clinton. A lot of people are supporting her early, or at least her campaign would have you believe that all of these people are enthusiastic about her running. But of course, this is a small group of people who live in primary states that are pumped that presidential candidates acknowledge them every four years because, really, what do a lot of these states have going for them? But it isn’t Iowa, or New Hampshire, or any other primary state that will win her the presidency. It is the torrent of money she has gotten from every big pocketed billionaire and high end millionaire who has ever voted democratic that will put her in the White House and prolong the newly founded Clinton Dynasty. Now let me preface this article with letting you know that I identify as an independent politically and tend to agree with certain issues on both sides of the aisle.

A lot of people call Barack Obama “The Banker’s President” and that is absolutely true. When he came into office, the U.S. National Debt was a little over $10 trillion. That is trillion with a T! It is now $18 trillion. Do you see roads? Are subways being expanded to the far reaches of the county? No. This is bailout money or as it has been dubbed these days, “Quantitative Easing” that has buried us into a money hole that we, our children, and every person who ever calls themselves an American will ever be able pay back. There has been three deployments of Quantitative Easing (QE) after the initial bailout. Bailout has a negative sound to it. It makes it look like the people who take it are deadbeats and are just taking freeload money that they didn’t earn. But more importantly, it is a term that the common man can understand and respond to. Quantitative Easing however, sounds complicated. Economic talk, lawyer talk, Wall Street talk, stuff people on Main Street don’t have to bother with. This economy that we live in now, can in fact NOT function without Quantitative Easing because every single investor, businessman and banker on Wall Street who has been boosting the NASDAQ, Dow and S&P up to the record highs (which the mainstream media has been celebrating as a big success story and therefore encouraging more people to get into the market) are doing so because if they don’t make money off their investments, they have what is called “The Obama Put”. Gamble all the money you like and if you lose, you break even with QE. Now, Hillary Clinton will 100% have to continue this trend of insuring investments for the biggest of gamblers, the riskiest of risk takers, and the most dangerous of dangerous moneymen when she comes into office. She must. Just about any economist worth their salt will look at the way things are operated now and will see that without the QE money flowing in, the content, dependent, spoiled investors who have expanded their bank accounts to all time highs, and the markets reflecting the same, will simply implode if the ever flowing ATM in the form of a government safety net is taken from under them.

This can not happen. The easy money and infinite access these people are experiencing right now can not end. So what is their response? What is the next move in the game of chess that is government, business and economics? Donate to the Clinton campaign. They are making sure their lifestyle has been secured and agreed to before she ever takes office because no millionaire or billionaire would dare to elect a president who doesn’t maintain their lifestyle. And income inequality you say? Let’s address that….

Her position is that similar to the term heard in the movie Grease which is “the rules are there ain’t no rules” or in her case, “we respond to the issue by not responding to it”. Obama makes the mandatory “increase taxes on the rich” speech every so often, basically when the polls say he doesn’t care about all the people who elected him and Hillary will read those same lines from those very same teleprompters. There will be lines of increasing the minimum wage or expanding unemployment benefits but the big crowd winner is jacking up the taxes on the rich. It makes sense. I wouldn’t disagree with that. But she will do the furthest thing from it. No politician of influence, or power, or wealth, or indoctrinating Ivy League education will go against the very things that got them to the position they are in. Hillary not only holds up the status quo of this centuries old trend, she is the bright faced, enthusiastic poster child for it. When you vote for Hillary, when you buy the lines that have been recycled and fine tuned and spit out by so many of her ilk, make no mistake: you are voting 100%, with no wiggle room, for anything to be done about the oligarchy occurring in America as we see it today. There is no way anything can be done when she takes money from the wealthy, the connected, and also Super PAC’s like Priorities for the USA. A bit about them:

Hillary Clinton Has Started “Courting” Donors For The Priorities USA Super PAC, Becoming The First Democrat Candidate For President To Embrace A Group That Can Receive Unlimited Campaign Checks. “Hillary Rodham Clinton will begin personally courting donors for a ‘super PAC’ supporting her candidacy, the first time a Democratic presidential candidate has fully embraced these independent groups that can accept unlimited check from big donors and are already playing a major role in the 2016 race.” (Maggie Haberman and Nicholas Confessore, “Hillary Clinton Embraces A ‘Super PAC,’ Trying To Erode A Republican Edge,” The New York Times, 5/7/15)

It is of no surprise to me that Hillary Clinton would embrace such a PAC. This is a campaign that will stretch into the billions of dollars before the election year even hits and when the legit campaigning actually begins, it will increase from there. The more money that is thrown at it, the more people rally and have their two cents thrown in about how she is the greatest thing ever and will do much for them. People of the middle class who still believe in the American Dream and lift up the poor when they need it and work hard at their jobs and attend church as often as they can. They are the poster child on the other end. The “common man”. The ones who the politicians pretend to fight for to uphold the law because with out it, these wage earning, humble people would surely take to the streets and murder each other to no end and run free through the countryside with no semblance of reality or responsibility. But this isn’t about the middle class (which is a phrase they are refraining from using in her campaign) and definitely not the poor. This is all about her absolute and total power in Washington and prolonging the dynasty for as long as possible and setting the stage for Chelsea in 20XX.

Not all Americans are so gullible though. Some people want to work and would like to take a step towards the life that they have been raised to believe belongs to them since their childhood, but they can not find work. What is good for the markets, isn’t necessarily good for Joe Smith who lives in a small town in a flyover state who just wants to put food on the table. Protect the top, or protect the bottom. What does she say?

Whether Mrs. Clinton’s approach will be enough to satisfy the unease over growing economic disparity is unclear. In a Gallup poll conducted last month, 67 percent of Americans said they were dissatisfied with the way income and wealth are distributed in the United States. In the 2008 Democratic presidential primary, Mrs. Clinton’s economic message — summed up by a frequent refrain, “If you work hard, you play by the rules, you ought to be able to get ahead” — resonated with white, working-class voters, who overwhelmingly supported her over Barack Obama.- New York Times

Let me stop for a second. If you have gotten this far, you may have noticed that this article tends to be a bit cynical (which is true) but the fact of the matter is, this is what is happening. How can I look at things the way they are, trusting my gut instinct on observance of the trends in America and not lay it out like it is? Sugarcoating the truth does no one any good. With that said, should you vote? Vote for Hillary? Vote for Rand Paul? Vote for Bernie Sanders? Or for any candidate for that matter? To be honest, I don’t think so. I am going to go to the polling places and I am going to vote on the specific issues on hand and I will surely never vote for any specific politician ever again because the way things are, is not right. Seldom does a law get passed that gets Americans excited and hopeful about democracy in this country and makes us feel like one, like we all took part in it and our voices were heard. People thought there was a great shot at there being legitimate hope and change for the way things are when Barack Obama was running in 08′ but the fact of the matter is, there was an economic crisis that hit the country hard and whatever momentum we as Americans had going for us was stopped dead in it’s tracks.

I am not going to tell you how to vote. You can vote on whatever issue you like and that decision is yours and yours alone and it is your responsibility to uphold that decision and be proud of it. But to cast a vote for any more of these status quo candidates is just another boost you are giving them into their dominance in the ever growing, insatiable, endless corporatocracy. How you deal with what is happening in the United States is up to you. By all means, stay law abiding and dignified. Your God given right as an American to enjoy freedom and express your opinion in a respectful and true way is something that, not that they haven’t tried, can not be taken away from you. You are the next step. You are the change. You make the rules.

[justolearytm-blog]

Journalistic Responsibilities Regarding Messages of Discrimination On Social Media

I know it is crass to talk about Twitter itself on social media (or rather, very meta), but when people are RT’ing & quote Tweeting pictures of swastikas & hate crimes occurring across the United States in the name of “objective journalism” (which the Fourth Estate propaganda publications never do otherwise), isn’t that, in itself, the “spreading of hate”? No one can justify such horrid acts of bigotry or vandalism which a segment (a large one, I’m sure) of Trump supporters are committing across this country, & no one should stand for it but when a journo RT’s/quote Tweets such things; are they not proliferating such messages of discrimination & hatred? I understand a somewhat objective story in the print media, & the story *must* be told, but in an age where virality is so dominant in our culture & the majority of U.S. citizens spend the majority of time on their phones, shouldn’t people think twice before plastering pictures of swastikas & KKK defamation on their profile? Many (if not all) mainstream journalists are guilty this.

I recognize that media contributors (be they actual journalists or bloggers) are posting on behalf of their own social media accounts (many acknowledge “views are my own & not my employers”), but as contributors to publications such as The New York Times, The Atlantic, The Huffington Post, etc., do they not bear responsibility on behalf of what people see (& consequently share) on “new media”?

A responsibility is on the shoulders of who many call “professionals” & to be recognized with such a title, they should act/Tweet/share accordingly. A conscious effort should be undertaken by them to really *think* about what it is they are showing the world before hitting the little button that has the potential to spread a message that could incite fear, anxiety, or even terror.

[justolearytm-blog]

Rejecting Notifications: Hopping Off The Societal Distraction Bandwagon

New things are happening. The world as we know it, those in the developed world and first world countries, is changing from a technological standpoint. Things seem to be getting better. Transport information gets better with location data, Google Now On Tap and Siri advancements know more about you, (which looks bad from a Luddite standpoint but quite nice for those who do not suffer from paranoia), chipsets are getting cheaper, and more and more information is populating the internet to fulfill any question one would have about a particular subject, right there, when they need it.

Things occurring in Silicon Valley, who are on the bleeding edge of technology, are leaning towards a new type of device. A new UI. A new stepping stone for what will become the societal norm. Wearables. For those who do not know: wearables are any type of technology (usually connecting to the internet) that you would wear on your body. It could be Google Glass, a fitness tracker or any number of smart watches. These things will be a big deal. Google, Apple, Pebble and a few other small companies all have smart watches. The primary use for these watches is to send you notifications. With data plans that have better and better coverage for an affordable price, and more people being internet native, it seems like a logical invention for the constant user of social websites. As of now, they don’t even have to pull out their phone to see who is mentioning, liking, hearting, acknowledging them. Some of these watches can’t even tell you the time without being within range of your smart phone or on Wi-Fi.

Roughly a decade ago, I remember when BlackBerry’s were first becoming a thing. For many people, at first office professionals and then internet enthusiasts, having a CrackBerry in your hand at any given moment seemed like a good way to kill time. To be stimulated. The discussion amongst many of those around me were “look at you!” “what is so important that you can’t wait to check when you get to a computer?” “hello? We’re eating“. The idea that someone had to be on the internet other than a compartmentalized part of the day seemed ludacris. There was the digital world, and the meat space world, the difference was obvious and that was the way it was. Now: it is completely normal to see someone on their phone constantly. Some people out in public never look up from their phone. People have noticed this. Some people see no problem with it, some people think it is the worst thing ever. Mashable and Wired and Mother Nature Network will all offer articles on “digital detox” or “unplugging” or an “internet hiatus”. Some people have developed neurological problems, behavior disorders and for some, a full blown internet addiction that, when compared to the habits of a cocaine addict or food addict, mimic the same characteristics.

This is a problem. And it is not going away. This isn’t a vague prediction what could happen in the future. It is something occurring all around us. So how do we respond? As a civilization, as a society, as a species. Essentially, what is happening, and we are at the very beginning of it, is we have sort of decided that since we have no immediate solution to the problem, the only step to be taken is to do more of it. Or just try harder to accept things as “the way it is”. That means, in twenty years, when I am 50 and my nieces are my age, there we’ll be. Still…doing it. Ripping us out of the moment, taking our precious and finite time and reacting to something that couldn’t be anything but superficial.

It is mid 2015. The Apple Watch sales have gone through the roof, Android Wear is coming on more and more devices, and Pebble just released the Pebble Time. Like the days of the BlackBerry, people will look down, at their wrist (which always has been and always will be the the flagship body movement to indicate rudeness or dissociation) and people will be offended. More so than when people stared eagle-eyed into their three inch screen and furiously typed away with their thumbs. Back then, it was a joke, an inconvenience. Now, it is an epidemic. And the smart watch revolution that is obviously occurring will exacerbate the problem and make things that are irrelevant, and always have been irrelevant (Instagram Likes, a new follower, a Tumblr comment) something we take time to react to. That we take time away from something else to respond to. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

I was perusing the internet the other day when a Verge video caught my eye. It was “How to be Happier and Use Your Phone Less”. It gave tips on how to migrate off your device. How to make it a habit to put it down for an extended period of time every hour. Use airplane mode more often and, at times, leave your phone at home. This sounds like a good idea, but…wait, we are being bombarded with news of the Apple Watch and all the terrific notifications it can send us. There is a dichotomy, a clear fork in the road that we, as consumers, as people, as earthlings must choose to acknowledge and respond to. That decision can be made for us. In the form of ads, trends, fashion, peer pressure or, a new term being thrown around, FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). This would be good for some. For those that like to be “in” and for another party, the corporations. They are on the other end of the consumer dynamic, they make the consumables. Like many things that have happened in the past, it is a question of consciousness. Will you be conscious, will you be aware, will you enforce your will on whether or not you keep yourself in the meat space or tether your eyes to a one inch device telling you the internet is happening?

This is up to you. When I saw that video, I did something I wanted to do for a long time. I turned off every push notification on my phone and on my iPad. They are there. When I decide I want to look at the app and see what is on it, surely, the notifications will be there for me to check. And they are the same notifications that would have been there had I reacted to it when I was making dinner, or talking to my sister, or writing my book. If you decide to do this, and you begin to twitch, or sweat, or panic, or become distraught, this is surely the early onset of internet addiction that has been documented in countless scholarly journals across America. It is time to relax. It is time to stop responding. These actions are your own and should you decide to stop the neurological notification race, things are still ok. Nothing bad actually happens.

Years ago, when books like 1984 were being written and brilliant science fiction was being published in magazines, some optimistic, some dystopian, no one predicted push notifications. A future where we took magnet trains to another continent in an hour wearing body temperature regulating suits, or a world of cyberpunk-esque decay and impoverishment where the only positive attribute of life was our possession of technology. Neither scenario took into account or predicted a life where humans gotyanked from reality to take notice or react to an interaction happening on a social network that for all intents and purposes derives no improvement on their life. It wasn’t predicted, it happened. And now we have to deal with it.

[justolearytm-blog]

Metro by T.M. O’Leary

It began at around 4 pm. It was just like any other day. A ride on the Metrolink, a coffee from Starbucks, an illegal smoke on the steps of the station. The air was crisp. It was January…something. Thomas couldn’t remember. He wanted to finish the Marlboro before he boarded the Shrewsbury train. However, he was disturbed when an icy wind started blowing harshly against his right cheek. He snuffed the butt half through the smoke and started walking up the stairs.

Two young people, a couple, passed him on the way up. The sky was glowing brightly though no sun was showing through the clouds. A day where sunglasses were necessary, but still gloomy enough to expect snow. He sat in the Northernmost unit so he was facing the way the train was moving. The unit doors still open, an icy chill swept through it. The Securitas security boys checked his ticket. An all day pass. He half expected to get a nod of appreciation from the guard for the pricey purchase, but instead just moved on to the next ticket holder.

Not a lot of people on board that afternoon. Maybe a dozen people combined throughout the entirety of the cabs. A girl boarded. Very pretty. Maybe 21.She was wearing a brown and heather trench coat which looked to be made of 100% wool. On that chilly day, it was buttoned to the very top. A small pink scarf peeked out where the collars met. Blue jeans underneath, and brown moccasins. Beautiful brown hair and a book beneath her right hand. He could barely see the title. “Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim”.

The doors closed and the Metrolink operator asked the passengers to take their seats and that the train would be moving soon. The brown-haired girl didn’t sit. She stood with her left hand hooked around the bar and swayed when the Metro finally started to pick up speed. As much as he would have liked to stare at her all day, she had already flashed Thomas a couple of apprehensive looks and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He felt rather timid himself. He looked away. He diverted his eyes to the abandoned buildings and factories along the Metrolink route, covered in graffiti with their windows smashed out.

They reached their next stop and a large group of people boarded. Over a dozen people huddled onto the unit, their arms folded, their shoulders up around their neck from the chill. He briefly wondered where they were headed, what they did for a living, what was on their bucket list?

He knew Forest Park was his first destination. The operator’s voice cracked over the intercom instructing the passengers to exit from the left. Thomas stepped off the unit and an arctic blast of wind hit his face. From there, he would catch a connecting Metro to the Delmar Loop or U City Loop as the Washington University students called it. It was one of his favorite places in the world. He gazed down the track as the Metro approached, his eyes slowly glazing over with wind chill. This unit, more crowded than the last one as it is one of the few connection points on the St. Louis Metrolink.

Thomas stepped off at his destination and discreetly slipped his wallet from his back pocket to his front. Having his wallet stolen was not an odd occurrence in St Louis so he always took extra precaution. Upon looking around his surroundings, he saw a group of teenagers hanging off the hand railings on the other side of the tracks. He would have to walk straight through them to reach the street. Walking through groups of people, particularly those already associating with each other caused nervousness for him. He was what some would call “anti-social”.

One of the kids jumped off the railing and stopped him. “Hey” the young man said. Thomas didn’t respond, he simply looked him in the eye. “I saw you put your wallet in your front pocket when you got off. Worried you might get robbed?” He was spot on. “It has happened to people before in this area” Thomas replied. There was a certain aggressive energy in the air that Thomas could feel. The small group of friends who were just a second ago, about 5 of them, hanging off the railings were now positioned around Thomas. They didn’t look like an immediate threat but their body language was intimidating.

“Listen here chief, I have something I want you to hold for me. I have to go up the street and talk to my boy. See that officer?” The boy pointed at the direction of a cop standing on the top of the Delmar stairs. The officer was staring downwards on the track and was slowly turning his head towards them. “Don’t look. Chill chill.” The boy said. Thomas didn’t quite know what to make of the situation and wasn’t sure what the boy was asking but panic was starting to creep up his throat.

“Like I said I just need to holler at my boy right quick and my boy Jeff here…” “Sup” says the friend. “… he’s gonna wait right here on this side of the tracks. If I pass by this cop, he is going to stop me and ask me to empty my pockets because he busted me doin’ shit I wasn’t supposed to be doin’ on these tracks before.” Instantly Thomas thought why the hell doesn’t he have one of his friends hold whatever the hell it is?

The boy pulled back the bottom edge of his shirt and Thomas could see a pistol tucked into the front of the boy’s pants. Immediately his heart started racing. It became very clear to Thomas that no matter what he said at that exact moment would mean dire consequences regardless of what actually came out of his mouth. “Hold this, it will be 15 minutes and I will give you $20 for your time.” The boy said, and slapped a $20 bill in Thomas’ hand and then after a careful look back and forth handed him the gun and said, “ hurry up! Put it in your pocket!” Not knowing what to do, Thomas complied. Finally the pressing question came to the surface. “Why can’t one of your boys hold this while you go up the street?” Thomas asked. The boy seemed like he had fully expected Thomas to ask just that question. “ My boy here is already on parole and these other four dudes are comin’ with me.” The boy said. The guy who the boy was talking about who was apparently on parole looked to be not even 17 years old. But this was St.Louis, Thomas knew of people not even 15 who had been incarcerated for well over a year.

Thomas was petrified of the situation he found himself in. “Like I said, 15 minutes and I will be right back. No sweat.” The boy said. As the boy said the word “sweat” Thomas instantly started feeling little ice drops of perspiration run down his neck and down his spine. Before Thomas could tell the boy why he was the last person for this detail , the boy and the other 5 members of his crew jogged off towards the officer and up the stairs, disappearing across the street.

Thomas didn’t know what to make of this situation at all. Manic thoughts ran through his head: Do I stand here? Do I take a seat? Do I head over the the trash can and just dump the pistol and go on my merry way? He sure as hell wouldn’t dare board the metro again with a concealed firearm on his person. If he got caught, that is a two year stint in the Thunderdome: The St Louis City Jail where inmates fight so violently that they make the floor shake and the roof vibrate. He decided to try to play it cool: Cross the tracks and mind my own p’s and q’s. Just another day. This was the first time he had been seriously hassled at a Metrolink stop and for his inauguration, it had to be the worst situation possible. Panic was not a familiar sensation in Thomas. Nothing that had escalated to a full fledged panic attack. He was thankful he never had one. But he felt he would soon find out exactly what one felt like. Finally, after looking around, salvation. He saw a trashcan to the far left of the stop but as soon as he got up out of his seat, a bicycle cop wheels up to the trashcan and parks against it. He was devastated.

Snow began to fall. Thomas slowly took his seat again. It was coming down quickly and in wide range but the chunks of snow themselves were not very thick. He tried an old mantra he heard while observing a yoga class one time: Think of your finest day. Remember the good things that are going on in your life. Remember your center. He immediately began day dreaming about the day he lost his virginity. The first time he saw the ocean. His first airline flight as a child. Anything and everything that was not there, in that present moment.

“Feeling okay?” Oh shit. It was the bicycle cop. Sitting on the bench with Thomas’ head tilted back trying to remember the best days of his must’ve looked like he was about to nod out on heroin. “Um, yea, I was just daydreaming.” Thomas said. She shifted her belt. “ There has got to be a warmer place to do that.” She said. Thomas half-smiled. Her radio crackled. She spoke some police talk gibberish into the speaker and released the button. “You have any id on you sir?” She asked Thomas. “Of course.” He replied. He pulled out his wallet from his front pocket. A rush of blood and adrenaline shot up his throat. He had put the gun in the same pocket as his wallet and if the bicycle cop wanted him to empty out his pockets on the spot, all she had to do was ask. Trying to retrieve his wallet now would instantly throw Thomas under the bus. Just then, loud horn went off in the distance. The Metro must have spotted someone on the tracks and sounded the horn to signal for them to get out of the way. The bicycle cop looked over her shoulder at the Metrolink cab. This bought Thomas just enough time to make the maneuver he had to make. As she looked, Thomas maneuvered the gun’s barrel away from where his wallet was stuck and he got his I.D. out just before she looked back at him. Thomas’ hands shook profusely. “ I have it right here. Ha.” Thomas could feel the sweat build up on his forehead. “Mr. Robinson. From Crystal City? Far away from home today aren’t you? What brings you to Delmar?” Oh shit. What am I gonna say. Originally my plan for coming to the loop was to go to Blueberry Hill and grab dinner and maybe shoot some pool at Fitz’s but now I have to explain to the cop what I was doing there perched like a dumbass on the Metro stop. “ I am just on my way to the airport. I had lunch at Blueberry Hill and now I am going to meet my sister at the airport.” It was a reasonable explanation, he thought, but he could tell he gave away something in his voice and he could see her eyebrows shift beneath her sunglasses to indicate she was puzzled. “Well you just missed your train.” She said. The comment threw him through a loop. What train? Is she talking about the Metrolink? Just then it dawned on him. “Oh yes. Well there will be another one on its way shortly.” He showed extra teeth when he smiled. “Well stay out of trouble Mr. Robinson.” She said as she handed back his I.D. back. As she picked up her bike to walk up the stairs, he managed to get his I.D. back into his wallet and then put his wallet…shit! There’s hardly any room in my pocket! Between the wallet and the firearm it looks like I am concealing a small midget in my pants! He tucked the wallet in half way through so the other half was poking out from his jeans. OK, OK, five or six minutes have gone by and no hang ups besides the officer. This asshole better show up soon before shit really goes down. The officer Thomas was warned about was making his way towards him as the bicycle cop pedaled away. The cop was coming in Thomas’ direction.Thomas tried not to look directly at him, but he could see the cop was trying to make eye contact.

He walked directly in front of Thomas.“Sir?” He said standing stiffly. “Yes officer?” Thomas said, as nervous as could be. “Where are you heading today sir?” The cop asked

“Um, to the airport, to see my sister.” Thomas replied. This didn’t put a dent in the cop’s inquisitiveness. “I just got done talking to the Officer Maley.” Said the cop. “She says you were coming from Blueberry Hill and were on your way to the airport. Like you said, but…” good, this honorable officer was vouching for me and was confirming what I was doing at the Metro stop. “I just saw you get off the stop two stops ago and you haven’t left this stop yet.” Thomas’ head spun like crazy. Passing out sounded like a great idea at that point. A million excuses ran through his head. I hadn’t had to lie in any way since he was in high school. What the fuck am I going to say to this random cop? “Paul! PAUL!” Screams came from the top of the stairs. The cop finally broke eye contact with him and jerked his head over to the street where there was a lot of commotion. The cop ran off like a lightning bolt where Thomas could see two of the six bastards who were left him there to be harassed by police while he had a (presumably loaded) handgun the size of Arkansas in the front pocket of his Levi’s.. Hopefully the fucker who handed off the pistol to Thomas was in the group who both cops now barreled down on, their clubs drawn. Thomas immediately power walked over to the trash can where the bicycle cop was before. Without looking left or right; he dumped the gun through the lid and walked back the way he had come from.

Just then, he heard a roar coming down the tracks of the Metrolink that led back to Forest Park, then Shewsbury. He quickly boarded and felt the weight of fifty boulders lift off his chest. A spiked chill ran down his spine with the warmth of the cart hitting his body. Almost hyperventilating, almost crying, he sat in the back row, facing traffic, and watched as the police knocked the boy who handed Thomas the gun what felt like a lifetime ago to the ground and applied their handcuffs. The doors closed. The unit began to move.

Feeling back to his old self, he took a gander around the car. Graffiti. Buildings.

Cruising on tracks above the street traffic. Bright skies and snow lightly falling. Away from that awful, awful situation. Then, there she was again. Hanging on to the bar at the front of the unit like she was when he boarded at Shewsbury. But how? Why? He had only been off the tracks for 20 minutes and she couldn’t possibly have done what she had to do in that short period of time. She looked at Thomas. He realized he was staring again. He looked out the window.

As he watched traffic, he saw her approaching him and with a slight smile across her face. When she got in front of him, they locked eyes and a big smile spread across her face. He smiled sheepishly back at her. She sat down. “I’m Amanda,” she said putting her book evenly on her lap. “Thomas”, he said. She smelled of dandelions, or some potent pollen. Her hair flowed down well past her shoulder blades. Her eyes as dark brown as freshly brewed espresso. He didn’t think of what happened at Delmar.

[justolearytm-blog]

hey oh?

is this where i am?