From Bad to Worse…

img credit: dcJohn

The prostitution in my area has actually gotten much much worse. It's reached the point where one of my neighbours is moving out.

I can't go into much detail for now as I'm pissed off and a bit upset. What I do know is that it's reached a whole new level. I feel disempowered because I feel enough isn't being done about it even though I and some of my neighbours have constantly complained about it to the police, the neighbourhood ward and our housing association. It's one thing for the prostitution, the pimping and the drug dealing associated with it to happen - it's another to watch it fester because the people who can do something about it don't appear to be putting 100% into it.

After a while, I knew that it would take someone getting physically hurt for the police to step in and that's, unfortunately, what happened at 7.30 this morning.


I love my flat, but today's the first time I've actually thought about moving. But then, why should I be the one to move?


Made myself a cup of herbal. Need to shake off the morning I woke up to.

I've Just Seen a Prostitute Giving a Man Head...

Unfortunately, we have quite a few prostitutes in my area (and most of them are drug dependent, I suspect, 'cos a lot of them don't look well AT ALL). The level of activity wasn't that noticeable to start with, but over the past few years, especially this year, it's gotten particularly bad.

They usually use our communal car park. You hear a car parking around 1, 2, 3, 4am. Then they look for a couple of blind spots to do their business.


Tonight, they weren't really hiding. If anyone else had looked out the window (like I had), they would have seen A LOT. It's one thing to use the space, a space that you have no right to use - it's quite another to not care if anyone sees you while you're at it.


Tonight, I couldn't take it. I opened my window and told them they ain't doing that in my backyard, to which they scuttled off.

Then, when I closed my window, I heard voices IN THE BUILDING. I opened the door and a couple of prostitutes were sitting on the steps smoking. I said "excuse me, could you leave please?" to which they did. I don't know why I sounded so damn polite but that's what literally came out.

I remember the look on one of their faces. She looked so young. Nothing like the rest of them. Healthy. Like she was new to it.


I closed the communal door after them - making sure it was really shut (which is part of the problem, you see, because the door closes sometimes but doesn't shut and I think they've cottoned onto that).


As I went back up, I saw a piece of tissue on the floor. It was a bit bloody.

Great.

That's what I get for being a night owl.


I spoke to the police about the problem some time ago. They said they had wardens who patrol the area 'til 2am or so. WELL, THAT'S NOT BLOODY GONNA HELP, IS IT - not if the real activity happens around that time and continues through the night.

I KNOW the police see them on the streets because I've seen them drive past without so much as slowing down.


I don't think the solution is to clear the prostitutes off - as much as I'd rather not have them in my area, they'll just reappear in another part of town if they're moved on - and the inherent problems won't really have been dealt with.


But something has to be done.

What the Night Sky and I Saw...

img credit: Solar ikon

I'm a real late sleeper.


Late last night, around 2am, I heard some voices behind my building. I looked out and saw 2 men holding a man down. I initially thought it might be plain-clothes policemen but it didn't take long for me to ascertain that it wasn't. The 2 men looked like they were trying to take something off him and he was really trying to stop them from doing that.

I called 999.

They were hitting him in the face.

I was trying to explain to the operator what was going on. And I don’t think I was doing a good job of it.

Eventually, one man left.

The other followed.

And the man on the floor stayed there for a while.

He was conscious.

I could see that he was.

A woman approached him – she was on the phone – and said something to him. I imagined – or hoped - that she was asking him if he was ok.

She walked away.

He stayed. On the floor.

The operator asked me if he looked like he needed an ambulance.

I didn't know. Couldn’t tell.

I opened the window and asked him.

He said no, got up and walked away.

The operator asked me what the men looked like. To describe them.

I said one was black …one was white. And the other, I couldn't remember.

I felt stupid.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember more. "He had on a black jacket" "I think" "His hair was short"

"How short?", the operator asked me.

"Short", I said.


"What did the woman look like?"

I told her what I could remember. Which was little.


She thanked me for the call.


I could see two wet patches on the ground where the fracas had taken place. Wasn't sure if it was blood but I suspect it was.


Later on, during the day, I looked out my window. And sure enough, it was.


As I walked down the road, on a white boarded-up area close to where I live, I noticed 5 thick lines of bloody prints that his fingers had left.

I could see small drops of blood on the pavement – trailing along every now and then like bread crumbs.


A week ago, someone sprayed 'Free Palestine' in blue on the other side of the same white board and the following day, it had been removed as quickly as it had appeared.


I wonder how long the bloody prints will stay there.

The Little People Down the Drainpipe...

img credit: aeruginosa

Sometimes, when I'm doing the washing up, I imagine there's a family of teeny-tiny people that live at the end of the drain pipe...

...a community even...

...and that whatever escapes down the sink will feed them, sustain them.

So when I'm washing the rice and some of the grains go down the hole, I'm there thinking 'yes, I've done my bit for charity'.

Bits of sweetcorn, bits of fresh meat from when I'm giving the chicken a good rinse, water drained from the can of kidney beans and tuna, the coffee/tea I didn't quite finish.


When I run the tap, I imagine said little people have some kind of medieval but highly-efficient mechanism that separates the hot from the cold water and preserves it at said temperature.


I apologise to said little people for my washing machine. For every time I turn it on, it smells out the place when it reaches a particular point in its cycle. It can't be that pleasant for them at their end.

I'd try pouring some bleach down the drain to stop what I now call 'washing-machine farts', but I fear for the safety of my little friends. I don't think they could cope. And even if they could, what if they crawled their little butts up the drain in anger and tried to kill me in a Gulliver's Travels stylee?


Not good.

Drama...untelevised....

I got woken up unceremoniously around 4.15am by a woman screaming in the car park, so I'm up. Her defiance was in complete contrast to the couple I wrote about previously where the man was effing and swearing at her and she said nothing, did nothing, except smile.

This woman – now this woman made sure she woke up the whole neighbourhood. The police arrived 5 minutes later and she kept on saying to them, 'keep him the fuck away from me'. The guy got arrested and was put in a van. She must have been hurt 'cos the ambulance soon arrived.

The block of flats where I live seems to be the epicentre of things that happen in and around Stratford. The building itself becomes an observer but remains unharmed, almost invisible. We often have prostitutes and their pimps calling out to each other on the street at 2 in the morning like it's high noon. Once, a woman pulled her pants down in front of the block and was acting all weird, crouched to the ground like her p*ssy was burning up. I had to call the police.

So, I'm up – can't sleep - pigeons cooing occasionally in my balcony. It's quiet now, as if none of the drama happened less than an hour ago.

I made myself a mint tea – two bags – the strength of it is waking up my chest – thinking of what the rest of the day will bring and what part I plan to play in it to make it a fruitful one.

ebele.

Which Came First?: the McChicken or Egg McMuffin?

Please send your answers in
to the white-faced wollygog
with the Revlon-red lipstick
and manic-depressive smile

who's probably a closet vegan

and a loving father
of two beautiful

pet poodles.



So, if ya think you know the answer

'cos you've got a 2:1 degree,

or you can spell 'brie',

or you've been playing the piano
since you were 3                   months,

please send a postcard to:

Old McDonald Didn't Have A Farm
P.O. Box 666
Tox-In-The-City
E492 99p




(p.s. I've come to the conclusion that James Blunt sounds like he's being asphyxiated more times than I can bear. From now on, I think I'll just stick to reading his lyrics. Sorry, James - you seem nice & all but...)

Outside my window...

img by: orangeacid

I live on a main road - the windows are triple-glazed so once it's closed, you can't hear much.

I was taking a bath the other day (as I do every other day!, well, erm, most of the time) and the window was slightly open (no exhibitionism, my friend, just letting the steam out).

I heard a guy swearing at who I assumed is/was his girlfriend. He called her a 'fucking Christian cunt', kept on calling her a bitch, pulling her bra strap, pushing/touching her face but not quite slapping it.

I could tell he was hurting, but the anger, the abuse. There was no excuse (for it).


And she just stood there smiling.


I obviously didn't know these young individuals, their history, etc., but I wanted to say something to stop what was going on. What was the point of just observing, especially as they were right outside my window. I could hear everything.


But then I thought: if I said something, if I interfered, would that aggravate him even more?, would that get her into more trouble?

I wanted to say that what he was doing and saying was not on, that it's not ok, but what would happen if they moved the confrontation to a private place? Was it better they were having it in public where it was (potentially) safer?


I closed my window, hoping to God they'd both be ok.