On a warm summer evening on a bed bound for nowhere.

It was an awkward moment when I awoke this evening at 7:39 p.m. My head was where my feet normally are, and I realized I was still dreaming. There is not a lot to do on a Sunday night in D.C., unless of course you are a criminal. Political or otherwise. Most of the historical places shut down early. So the employees can have some semblance of a weekend, before the mad rush of Monday. When millions of people will be rushing in to see what democracy looks like on paper, and blood splattered balconies of dimunte theaters of days long past. There is a certain heartbeat that this city maintains. Odd rhythms, syncopated by the mad dash of tourists, cab drivers, politicians, the homeless,military personal. The F.B.I. Have their own police force here. It's a beautiful place. Especially at night. Still filled with so much hope and promise, yet untapped. It's encouraging to see the building blocks of this country, but deeply alarming when you see them barricaded by three foot thick cement roadblocks, and armed soldiers at the ready to shoot any shmuck who happens to wobble too close to history. People claim there is a lot going wrong in the world and this country in particular. And to a certain degree they are right. But when you wipe away the bullshit smeared on the lens, the potential to correct these problems is so vastly available, and waiting for the chance to be used correctly. Tomorrow I'm sure I will jump back into my haze of anger and sarcasm. But tonight I think I will let hope carry me off to sleep.