Whirlybird

            I was visiting my friend Cheeky. It was an ordinary visit until a helicopter started to circle overhead. No big deal, it was LA. But it kept circling. Eventually my curiosity got the best of me and I looked out the window to see what was going on. There was a white truck parked in the neighbor's driveway. The truck was parked at an odd angle. It was blocking the sidewalk and sticking out into the street. There was a man standing at the back of the truck. The tailgate was down and it looked like he was holding an assault rife. He seemed to be loading it and checking it at the same time.
            "It looks like there's a man with a rifle outside," I said to Cheeky.
            Cheeky was playing words with friends on her cell phone and didn't bother to respond to my comment.
            "He has a helmet on."
            "A helmet?" The helmet piqued her interest.
            "Yeah, it's a helmet alright."
            "Let me see." Cheeky moved off the couch to peer out the window. "He does have a helmet."
            "I told you!"
            "And there's a cop blocking off the street with yellow caution tape," Cheeky said.
            "Where?"
            The man with the rifle walked away. That's when I decided to go outside to see what the heck was happening. There was a line of squad cars parked up the street. I decided to ask the cop putting up the caution tape for details. I approached him slowly. Cops are jumpy nowadays.
            "Excuse me, I don't mean to be a bother, but what's going on?"
            "Ehh, some guy attacked somebody with a brick or knife or something, he lives up the street. I don't know really, I'm just working the perimeter."
            "Oh, okay thank you."
            The cop made an impression on me; he seemed like the nicest, most normal guy in the world.
         
         
         
          

Blog 4 Blogs Sake

            This blog is for blog's sake. I used to blog twice a week, but nowadays it's just once a week. Consistent inconsistency is my model. A part of me felt like it was too much stimuli for readers, so I pared it down. There were other factors as well. I have other projects I'm working on: books, music, general malingering, things of that nature.
            Lately, music has been a lot more interesting to me than writing. I get restless when I write and it's difficult for me to sit still. Maybe my writing desk has something to do with it. I have it set up so I'm staring at a wall.
            Music on the other hand is much more fun to me. I can move around if I want to. I can take my guitar outside. I can learn songs or write my own. I have a forty-eight track studio on my ipad with keyboards, effects, drum machines, mastering software, everything I need. 
            I did write some last week, editing mostly. It's wasn't fun and games like music though. I forced myself to sit and think about the sentence and re-write for the millionth time.