WHAT IS VALUE? LOOK INTO YOUR CHILDREN"S EYES.

ANOTHER THIRD Tonight at 9:25 ( 9-14-09 ), my landlord at 5413 Alice N.E., and I had a ' sharp, ' heated conversation in my front driveway, about past rent and that I was supposed to have been out of the house on the 6th of last month. I corrected him, it was the 16th. The near impossibly of moving tons of steel and trashing and donating furniture and about a thousand books, has played a factor in the delay, although no legal action has been taken.

He stated that I owed him 20 thousand dollars for back rent. I told him that I didn't. He later recanted his number figure to 16,000 instead of 20 thousand.

I stated that I didn't want him to bring young girls by my house. He stated that he had never done so. He later recanted that " that was years ago."

He stated that he would have the police kick me out. I'm sure ' history ' might repeat itself, if that was the case.

I told him that I didn't want him on the property. He and his friend's have never given prior written notice, for any ' entry,' in the last ten years. If you think about it, this is how millionaires make their money.

He also stated that my comment in my house ( 8-16-09 ) of me blaming or accusing him of setting his white truck on fire was crazy. None the less, it's what he said at the time of the young girl in his truck, a few years back. Thereafter I had to pay rent, if I had cash in the parking lot of a restaurant ( Popeyes's-10601 Central Ave N.E. ), close to Del Norte High School, at least once.

There was a morning afew years back, in which I ' felt ' that I was almost someone else, until I broke the trance. It took alot of effort. I was shredding my receipts for payment of rent, half of almost every receipt that I had, almost everything of a written nature of my existence in this house. My first lease was almost next. Too bad for some personal photos and writing. I almost even destroyed my high school yearbooks and all Art ribbons. It was a picture of and the ' voice ' of my father. A pen and ink drawing. I broke the spell of someone ' telling ' me to do this. If the night before, was like the rest, then I was ' told ' repeatedly to do so. I consider these people and their minds, some in unison, to be in support of, if not pedophiles themselves.

A BLIND OF BRIGHT LIGHT HEARD A CRY

A woman pleading for help, " Please help me," almost a whisper, after being beaten mercifully and pleading for another person. " Please help me." A man and a woman, as if in the ' rafters,' speaking to each other in quite; softly, in observation? Then a climbing down, as if upon a ladder. The woman pleading " will you help me?" A woman's response, though not clear, not understood. The first, " Please don't hurt my baby..." Then the thunderclap of a gunshot. A very short, almost silent sigh, as if a last breath. It was so quiet afterwards.

I was on the ground with a thirty-eight in hand and something on my back, something not seen, in my hallway; heavy. For many years afterwards, in my mind, I've questioned ' the weight, ' the answer almost always " You would of been killed." " You might of gotten one, but you would've been killed." Threw the fear then and reflection now, I wonder if the heavy was my father."

That night was insanity. What people do. Another night, shortly afterwards, another woman beaten again, and taken away. The police were never called, yet the ' static ' was in the air. I ran out of minutes. Knowing that ' Downtown ' was somehow involved, lawyers; a complete loss of faith, yet I believe that freedom without law, is impossible.

A dispatcher once told me, never call us again ( The Police ). A Captain once told me, never call us again.