Visit Dogtown, Oakland, California, Dellumsland, USA
I am sleeping peacfully, it is three o'clock in the morning and the rain is washing the street outside my home in Oakland, California. Then, like thunder and lighting piercing this softness the sound of a gun fight shatters my dream and I sit bolt upright. "Baby, are you OK?," I hollar at my friend sleeping next to me. "The mother fuckers are right outside!," The rounds are still going off when I reach for the phone, dial 911, and order the operator at the other end to get some one down here RIGHT NOW! The next morning, I get up at 9:30, take a hot bath, go outside, see a tow truck driver talking to one of my neighbors. "What?," I ask. "The guy asked me to come down and change his flat," explains the tow truck guy. "So, I just called him back and told him he has a lot of flats and his truck is full of bullet holes," he says with a shrug. "Did you call the cops?," I ask my neighbor. "Yeah," he shrugs. "Did they show up?," I ask. "No," he shrugs. "I just called them again." I pick up all the brass casings in the street before the homeless people get them. FIFTY THREE ROUNDS from three guns - AK 47, 9mm, 40 cal. In the rusty cookie pan, it resembles a breakfast of treats to me. Breakfast of Champions, I think. I give the casings to my neighbor and tell him to give them to the cops when they show up, otherwise they can say it never happened or it happened somewhere else. Then I go with my friend to coffee. She is upset but it is the same old shit to me. You are lucky, I tell her, feeding a fucking parking meter. You could be in the emergency room right now. After coffee we show up back at the place and the cops are there now. "You finally got here, huh?," I tell the swat guy. "What do you mean," he says, looking a little miffed at my familiarity. "We called you eight hours ago," I tell him. They serve me some bullshit about it - they got a lot to do, bla,bla,bla - and I point out to them the drug dealer who's truck is now in need of some body work. I tell the cops who's who in the collection of spectators and tell them that this isn't funny anymore. I tell them that they know who all these fuckers are, tell them that the prints on the bullets are all mine since I picked them up and add, "You were lucky this time. No one's dead." And that was it and I went inside while the investigation people arranged their neat little evidence cards over every scrap of lead they could locate on the sidewalk and street and the police photographer jived it up with the drug dealer. So it goes in my lovely little neighborhood. Maybe my city council member Nancy Nadel(who lives 150 feet away) will show up for a photo-op later today. Sell some chocolate from her sustainable chocolate company. Why not? Maybe Mayor Dellums will come by, talk about Haiti. Beat the drums, so to speak. Yup, Wecome to Oakland, USA.
Mark Bulwinkle, Saturday,Feb. 6, 2010
Breakfast is ready
Auto body work Oakland style
Breakfast is served
Sidewalk remodel with an AK47