under the bridge downtown...

The partner in crime and I had a great time taking pictures of pretty lights and shiny things at Ingenuity. The space in the old subway tunnel underneath the Detroit-Superior Bridge is so amazing on its own that anything added to that just sweetens it even more, and the artwork, lighting, performances, and the waterfall cascading like Niagara over the side were incredible.





It actually felt like the city was alive, because there were actually people out, and that was good to see, and instead of paying for overpriced carnival food, we got takeout pizza at Edison's and came back to the apartment to listen to the new Roots album, drink Lazizas and philosophize about relationships.

I went back the next night with Lindsay after a family dinner and watched members of the Sugarhill Gang keep the party going and chilled out to a reggae band at the end of the night. When I got back out to the east side I was so exhausted I crashed on the couch there and drove home the next morning. So much for coffee and scrabble, hopefully next time.




And despite all the drama of the past month, the climax of that seems to have something of the divine timing to it. I'll be moving out of my lovely apartment after six of the most unpredictable months in my life. I'm going to miss my garden, my amazing roomie going on to bigger and brighter things, and the crazy kids running around, but it really is the best decision to make given the situation and a mutual understanding that is reassuring.

I haven't figured out if I'm going to life with some friends in Old Brooklyn or try to fly solo for a little while. I haven't lived with multiple people in awhile, and I know I get stir-crazy when left by myself for a long time, so we'll see how this all shakes out. Right now I'm leaning toward the roomies, which are two inner city school teachers and an Ethiopian college student. I guess this keeps me from getting too comfortable and soft... or something.

11/11

When I heard about that house fire down in Ohio City, I hoped he wasn't living there anymore. Like most people who are in a constant state of transition and had their struggles with substance abuse, it wasn't uncommon to lose touch with him for months.

He slept on our balcony the summer before last for a few weeks and did our dishes every night. I knew it was hard on him because he hated feeling like a freeloader. He moved around all over the west side, picked up welding and machine shop jobs. Sometimes he'd show up at church or I'd see him around the neighborhood.

I emailed my old roommate to see if she knew anything and he's gone. I know that his struggles are finished now, that he's with God and not dealing with all the struggles of this world anymore.

Veteran's Day was always one of those holidays that I never really think about but this year it has more of a face for me besides my grandparents' generation. I think of all the people like him that came home to a hostile country and a lack of a support network who ended up on the streets.

I'm realizing more and more how many people fall through the cracks.