Holly and I have been working hard in the new East Avenue Clown Cave and were there until about 10 p.m. cleaning and painting. Holly had some laundry to do and asked me to go to the laundromat with her. It's become something we do together, go to the all-night laundry when there's no one there, play gin rummy while our clothes wash and dry. But I bought a washer and dryer from the previous owners of the new Cave and had it in my head that I wouldn't need to go to the laundry anymore. But she had a couple of loads she needed to get done and I really needed to go anyway, so we went home to clean up and headed out to the laundromat at about 11:30.

So it was 1:30 or so by the time I dropped her off and headed back to the Wayne Avenue Cave. I drove past Wayne Ave. on my way to the alley to get to the parking lot behind the house and saw a couple of police cars in front and in the alley to the side. That's not unusual. There's a couple of young me living above me and they make a lot of noise and the neighbors are always calling the law on them. They've actually been evicted, have had the papers served on them and they didn't show up in court, but they haven't moved. One of the neighbors said that the landlord had a bailiff coming Friday to escort them out and change the locks and such. It's been pretty tense. They're always out in the alley partying and fighting. I've not bothered them much. I remember what it was like to be 20 and having the neighbors call the law because of the music or whatever (although my friends didn't fight like these guys do).

So anyway, I parked in the back and one of the young men always hanging out there came up to my car and asked me if I was the guy that lived downstairs. I said I was.

"Somebody shot two bullets into your apartment."

"You're shittin' me?"

"No, man. The cops are in there now."

I left my clean laundry in the car and walked up toward the house. The lady next door came up to me and said "Thank God you're alive. We knocked on your door and you didn't answer but it was unlocked so the cops went on in. I said 'I'm not going in there.'"

Apparently, Holly or her daughter had left my door unlocked, which is a bitch for another day, but I went in and an officer was shining a flashlight around my living room. I turned on the light. He was looking for bullet holes.

I turned on the other lights. My computer was covered with plaster dust and for a minute it looked as though my computer screen had been hit, the plaster had hit it so hard. I walked through the house with him.

Two bullets went in through the bathroom window, which is right above the toilet.

Had I been taking a leak, one of the bullets would have surely hit me in the face or chest. What a way to go.

They went into the wall by the medicine chest

and out the other side underneath the kitchen cabinets.

Had I been doing dishes (yeah, right, like that happens) I would have gotten it right in the heart.

The bullets then went into the wall on the other side of the kitchen.

One of them stayed in the wall and the other went into the living room,

but we couldn't see where. The cop gave up looking, told me not to touch the holes and if I found a bullet to not touch it either, but just call the police.

He left and was talking to some of the people outside. A policewoman came and took my name and numbers, and Jeff, the guy who lives in the house next door, came in and we did a CSI (Clown Scene Investigation) and found where the bullet hit the wall, barely missing my screaming rubber chicken.

I moved some boxes and bags of balloons out of the way and we found the bullet lying on the floor. I don't know my bullets, but it was big, about 3/4 of an inch. I got the lady cop back in and she picked it up and put it in a baggie.

Needless to say, I was pretty freaked out and stood outside talking to the cops until they left and to the neighbors. Apparently, they were gunning for the guy who lives upstairs. They said that the shooter had come knocking on the door but Jermaine didn't answer even though he was home. So the shooter went to his car, got a gun, and opened fire on the house. We counted four bullet holes (including my two) and today, in the daylight, Holly spotted another one up high.

The landlord called and offered to let me move into another apartment if the new cave wasn't ready yet. "I've got a truck, man, I'll come and get you right now. If you don't want to move your stuff, I've got an air mattress you can use, but we'll empty out your apartment tonight if you want."

I declined, figuring that lightning doesn't strike twice and the cops would be (and have been) coming around a lot.

Paradoxically, Holly has been freaking out about moving the Cave to East Avenue as there's been some trouble in that neighborhood this summer. But I figure there's the potential for danger where-ever you go and the new Cave doesn't have any windows.

Consequently, I'm anxious to get out of here and I really need to push up my moving schedule and I could use any help that anyone is willing to offer.

I've got stuff to do Wednesday evening, so I won't be doing anything, but Thursday and Friday evenings I'll be at the East Avenue Cave after work until late. There's painting and cleaning to be done and any extra hands would be much appreciated.

I have gigs Saturday and am going to Lima Saturday evening, but Sunday afternoon I'm going to begin moving my stuff. I'll probably do the electronic and music stuff on Sunday. On Monday I'm going to rent a truck and move the bigger stuff and the boxes of books and records, and purchase the lumber and other materials I need to finish getting the place set up. Once I get everything emptied from Wayne Avenue, I think I'll be okay, but I'm taking next week off to build a couple of walls and convert a bathroom into a shower. I think I can handle that stuff. It's the moving part that on Sunday and Monday that I could use some help. Please let me know if you're available.

God has taken pretty good care of me. He sent me an angel to get me out of the apartment so that madness could go down last night. I thank Him profusely and pray that I can leave this place in one piece and with no unusual holes in my body.

Holly and I have been working hard in the new East Avenue Clown Cave and were there until about 10 p.m. cleaning and painting. Holly had some laundry to do and asked me to go to the laundromat with her. It's become something we do together, go to the all-night laundry when there's no one there, play gin rummy while our clothes wash and dry. But I bought a washer and dryer from the previous owners of the new Cave and had it in my head that I wouldn't need to go to the laundry anymore. But she had a couple of loads she needed to get done and I really needed to go anyway, so we went home to clean up and headed out to the laundromat at about 11:30.

So it was 1:30 or so by the time I dropped her off and headed back to the Wayne Avenue Cave. I drove past Wayne Ave. on my way to the alley to get to the parking lot behind the house and saw a couple of police cars in front and in the alley to the side. That's not unusual. There's a couple of young me living above me and they make a lot of noise and the neighbors are always calling the law on them. They've actually been evicted, have had the papers served on them and they didn't show up in court, but they haven't moved. One of the neighbors said that the landlord had a bailiff coming Friday to escort them out and change the locks and such. It's been pretty tense. They're always out in the alley partying and fighting. I've not bothered them much. I remember what it was like to be 20 and having the neighbors call the law because of the music or whatever (although my friends didn't fight like these guys do).

So anyway, I parked in the back and one of the young men always hanging out there came up to my car and asked me if I was the guy that lived downstairs. I said I was.

"Somebody shot two bullets into your apartment."

"You're shittin' me?"

"No, man. The cops are in there now."

I left my clean laundry in the car and walked up toward the house. The lady next door came up to me and said "Thank God you're alive. We knocked on your door and you didn't answer but it was unlocked so the cops went on in. I said 'I'm not going in there.'"

Apparently, Holly or her daughter had left my door unlocked, which is a bitch for another day, but I went in and an officer was shining a flashlight around my living room. I turned on the light. He was looking for bullet holes.

I turned on the other lights. My computer was covered with plaster dust and for a minute it looked as though my computer screen had been hit, the plaster had hit it so hard. I walked through the house with him.

Two bullets went in through the bathroom window, which is right above the toilet.

Had I been taking a leak, one of the bullets would have surely hit me in the face or chest. What a way to go.

They went into the wall by the medicine chest

and out the other side underneath the kitchen cabinets.

Had I been doing dishes (yeah, right, like that happens) I would have gotten it right in the heart.

The bullets then went into the wall on the other side of the kitchen.

One of them stayed in the wall and the other went into the living room,

but we couldn't see where. The cop gave up looking, told me not to touch the holes and if I found a bullet to not touch it either, but just call the police.

He left and was talking to some of the people outside. A policewoman came and took my name and numbers, and Jeff, the guy who lives in the house next door, came in and we did a CSI (Clown Scene Investigation) and found where the bullet hit the wall, barely missing my screaming rubber chicken.

I moved some boxes and bags of balloons out of the way and we found the bullet lying on the floor. I don't know my bullets, but it was big, about 3/4 of an inch. I got the lady cop back in and she picked it up and put it in a baggie.

Needless to say, I was pretty freaked out and stood outside talking to the cops until they left and to the neighbors. Apparently, they were gunning for the guy who lives upstairs. They said that the shooter had come knocking on the door but Jermaine didn't answer even though he was home. So the shooter went to his car, got a gun, and opened fire on the house. We counted four bullet holes (including my two) and today, in the daylight, Holly spotted another one up high.

The landlord called and offered to let me move into another apartment if the new cave wasn't ready yet. "I've got a truck, man, I'll come and get you right now. If you don't want to move your stuff, I've got an air mattress you can use, but we'll empty out your apartment tonight if you want."

I declined, figuring that lightning doesn't strike twice and the cops would be (and have been) coming around a lot.

Paradoxically, Holly has been freaking out about moving the Cave to East Avenue as there's been some trouble in that neighborhood this summer. But I figure there's the potential for danger where-ever you go and the new Cave doesn't have any windows.

Consequently, I'm anxious to get out of here and I really need to push up my moving schedule and I could use any help that anyone is willing to offer.

I've got stuff to do Wednesday evening, so I won't be doing anything, but Thursday and Friday evenings I'll be at the East Avenue Cave after work until late. There's painting and cleaning to be done and any extra hands would be much appreciated.

I have gigs Saturday and am going to Lima Saturday evening, but Sunday afternoon I'm going to begin moving my stuff. I'll probably do the electronic and music stuff on Sunday. On Monday I'm going to rent a truck and move the bigger stuff and the boxes of books and records, and purchase the lumber and other materials I need to finish getting the place set up. Once I get everything emptied from Wayne Avenue, I think I'll be okay, but I'm taking next week off to build a couple of walls and convert a bathroom into a shower. I think I can handle that stuff. It's the moving part that on Sunday and Monday that I could use some help. Please let me know if you're available.

God has taken pretty good care of me. He sent me an angel to get me out of the apartment so that madness could go down last night. I thank Him profusely and pray that I can leave this place in one piece and with no unusual holes in my body.