prayers up
Plastic prayed up from the floodwaters of the Rio Guadalupe de San José from amongst the hypodermic dreams long lost, saved from being swept away as my love was
NYPD will facilitate your death and make sure it goes unpunished
Now it is personal. In October, I posted about some of the efforts made by the James Caldwell, the 77th NYPD Precinct and the cycling community here in Brooklyn in the wake of Jasmine Herron's death. I have not put too much info out here as these various efforts take shape, as it is not really within the scope or tone of this joke of a blog. However, at the moment circumstances have occurred which illustrate the nature of the battle pedestrians and cyclists are fighting here on the streets of New York City. So I am touching on this politically sensitive matter. Last night, a close personal friend of mine was hit by a reckless, speeding cab while on his bicycle. His account, with [my edits and clarifications] in brackets... So... Due to circumstances, I rode out in the middle of the night, ... left around 1 AM, making my way [on] Bedford heading south. I heard/saw a car heading east on St. Marks Ave, so I stopped in the [crosswalk] and waited. A taxi rounded the corner really sharp...
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