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Thursday, May 01, 2003

I Am The Gatekeeper...

The Department of Justice Building is not the most welcoming structure I've come across in Washington, to put it mildly. Its dated, pseudo-majestic Art Deco facade reminds me of nothing so much as the work of Ivo Shandor. I can almost hear the eagles on the silvery door whisper to passers by...

"Are you the Keymaster?"

The Pennsylvania Avenue side of the building is wrapped in an unsightly chain link fence topped with barbed wire. As if Justice herself were imprisoned behind barrier upon barrier.

Instead of just a sheet. Because our Attorney General can't bear to look at a classical statue of a woman with breasts.

Living in Washington grows depressing sometimes.

I remember when I first moved here. No one wanted to live here in a sense, but I felt more like it was a city I could connect with in a sense as an outsider.

Just as importantly, there were cheap places to live, to shop, and such, that are either gone or are disappearing before my eyes now. It seemed like Georgetown was Georgetown (tourist trap, inflated yuppie prices, stuck up attitude) and the rest of the city was more, well, real. But the city seems more like Georgetown writ large now.

I wonder if there were members of some European explorer parties or white settlers in the New World that felt a bit like this once.

"Dear Diary:
This land is rough around the edges, but I kinda like it that way. I can handle it. If too many outsiders come in here to change it, it might my life easier in a creature comfort sense, but in another sense it will ruin things."


My neighbors wonder sometimes why I will seldom call the cops to chase the people who hang out in front of my front steps away.


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