Gentleman holding hat, with skeptical expression
                                                                                                                             4 3/4" tall, base stamped Made In Occupied Japan

At three in the morning I had so much to tell you.  Wakened by startling revelations, I scrambled in the night dark to make notes so I would remember exactly the urgent message I was meant to convey.  This morning I read:

            She Left her sweater in the dirt.
            Bellicose
            Hyacinth

I do wish I'd been a little more specific, don't you?  I'm afraid the only part I clearly recall at this point is something to do with a secret of the universe, and how everything would be different once I got the word out.  Oops.  Sorry. 

Anyway, I completely forgot to tell you about the excitement of yesterday morning, which in lieu of secret-of-the-universe will have to suffice.  As you know, I live in a relatively nice part of town, in that Adjacent sort of way that we have in L.A.  Does Adjacent apply in other places in the world?  In L.A. we have Beverly Hills Adjacent, or Hancock Park Adjacent, or Korea-Town Adjacent.  I wonder if you have Kensington Gardens Adjacent or Le Marais Adjacent or Old Jewish Quarter Adjacent.  Spandau or Tempelhof-Adjacent?  Perhaps not.

In any event, you also know that I command quite an expansive view of my neighborhood, of which I believe I am deservedly fond.  Yes, there may be those who mutter "Gladys Kravitz" under their breath when they look up and see me waving, but if you don't want your wife to know about the bald tattooed body-builder masseur that comes to visit every time she's out of town, then just tell me.  I know how to keep a secret.

So yesterday morning, having finished up my morning chores, I happen to look out the window and notice four black-and-white Crown Vic patrol cars parked at rakish angles on the side street below.  Upon closer examination I am able to make out a group of the city's defenders speaking to the fellow who's been living in his car down there for the past couple of years.  And no, I'm not the one who called the police.  The man has always been pleasant enough to me in the few times our paths have crossed, and if he was also somewhat guarded or reticent to engage in friendly conversation, well, I think one could hardly blame him.  I have friends who can't sleep on anything less than a 1200 thread count; just try and imagine how good a night's rest you get when at a moment's notice or a sharp rap on the window you may have to move your entire bedroom.  I don't suppose many of you have to worry about your bed being rear-ended either, although some of you might not mind.  But what about having to relocate all your worldly belongings on street-cleaning days.  It can't be easy.

Yes when I first saw the convergence of squad cars I thought, "what's Didier done now?"   But for once he answered his i-Phone and put my mind at ease, so I could relax and follow the proceedings below which I must tell you were completely civilized and without a hint of bad behavior on either side.  A tow-truck arrived and by the time I had to leave for work, everyone was gone, the police no doubt off to their duties elsewhere in the city, and my now former neighbor either in custody or looking for new living quarters.

I've heard it said that, what with all the foreclosures and job losses recently, there's been a rise of homelessness and unsavory types on the streets.  But I'd like to point out that my transient-neighbor-adjacent had been here when I moved in, and who knows how long before that, which in terms of being transient is a lot longer than some of my neighbors down the hall.  How you wind up living in your car is a matter for speculation, of course, and I admit, I've given the matter some thought.  I think my solution would be to start driving and keep going for as long as I could, or until I found a suitable cliff, but that may be a personal idiosyncracy. 

What do you do when you run out of money or lose your job and rack up a lot of debt?  If you're Daisy, Countess of Warwick you become a Socialist, which she did in 1904, joining the Social Democratic Federation that year, shortly after meeting its founder H.M. Hyndman [Cannadine, The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy, p. 538].  

Cannadine writes that "Lady Warwick's world was in a state of chaotic collapse"  and in that context, "her espousal of socialism was just another part of her family's [and by extension, the aristocracy's] much-publicized decline."  Perhaps.  At least the state of chaotic collapse is something with which I think we can all identify.  It can sneak up on you, can't it, even when you're least expecting it.  You look out the window and realize you see little signs, here and there, of the world and people's lives changing, falling apart.  Even as they try all sorts of ways to hold on, clinging to some part of the life they used to have or would like to have, getting as close as they can.  Adjacent to it.