evening last...

My cell phone ran, it was my sister. I was holding pint number four and in the middle of a bitch session with five co-workers. She wanted to know if I wanted to go see Kim Richey at some club in Cambridge called Johnny D's. I said I couldn't make it because I still had the second job to go to and left soon after.

When I got to the second job there was nothing pressing to do, so I called my sister and asked if you can wear sneakers at the club because I was wearing my Chuck Taylor's. My sister was at the club recently with one of my other sisters who was playing the sax there, so she should know.

Sneakers where okay so I went, had some food and saw the show. Kim played two sets because the lady that was to preform before her didn't show.

I picked up her lastest CD, which I'm not certain is her best work and I don't like the cover art but what the heck I had a good time.

I read in the paper today something I guessed was the case. Driving from the second job to my house I pass a housing development. Last night there were about thirty police vehicles and a section of grass area that was marked off with that yellow crime scene tape. I casually mentioned to others someone must have been shot. That someone was a twenty-two year old Hess gas station employee, my city's 55th murder on the year.