Crime rates

It is said, apparently, in Crime Watch studies and Police Data Reports, that if a broken window is left unrepaired in a neighborhood for an extended period of time, the crime rate goes up. It would seem, if no one cares enough to fix a broken window, the general attitude of people in and around the area figure no one really cares what goes on, and slowly people just stop giving a shit, and the kind of folks who do things they don't want others to see start to do that sort of shit there. In the neighborhood with the broken window.

I missed two Blog posts this week. Well, almost. We'll say two. Sunday was a conscious decision. I took that day off, I wasn't going to count that. Thursday I flat forgot/didn't get it done. Right now it's Sunday Morning, 2:22 AM, and I just got off of work. This could, and should be considered Saturday's entry, but I didn't even get a place holder up.

We're gonna score that at two missed.

Two posts, that's a busted window. One, what the hell, shit can happen. Two in a week, I gotta take care of that shit. Same shit has happened in my house. I start saying, "Fuck it," about one little thing, next it's uninhabitable for anyone but me and the cat again.

The place holder thing, it's good for me, I think. I'm not sure how it comes off on your end, for the reader, (If anyone is even reading the damn thing. Hi Mom! Sup, Brad?) but it tends to make me feel obligated to finish up with something, which keeps me thinking during my work day (night) what I might post. So, even if it seems cheesy, you may have to put up with it. Comments are, of course, appreciated.

Part of the point of doing it at all is that it seems, for me, writing begets writing. If I write in this damn thing, I tend to write other stuff, and I really need to be writing stuff.

Just now, as I left work, I was telling a friend of mine about back when I used to work at the Flower shop, when I was "The Punk Rock Florist." Just briefly, couple a minutes, telling him some of the circumstances around me getting the job, and the irony of me working there at all. "You gotta write a book," he says. It was nice, with the thought of this Personal Monologue/One Man Show thing on my mind, to be able to say, "I'm working on it," and mean it. I don't know that my working in a Flower shop is fodder for a whole Monologue segment.

But it might be Stand Up material.