--Finally got some compliance from the cops. I was at near-psycho level yesterday afternoon but kept pretty calm (yet insistent) when I got there. A sergeant took my report and upon my urging gave me a report # so I can work with my insurance agent. I listed J--- as the suspect and explained the situation. Probably nothing will come of it, but who knows. The important thing is that we can all get on with our lives.

--After spending my time at the police station downtown, I went back to the old pad to take care of a little business. Ben's got it looking good and hopefully can get decent roommates this time around. If you or anyone you know needs a room in Omaha for around $200 (+ utilities), let me know. It's in a major prostitution district, if that helps. The prostitutes never really bothered me. Sure, walking around I'd get asked if I had drugs, wanted drugs, or could help someone pay for his drugs. I never really minded. I always loved the comments I got from other people about the area. Maybe living in such squalor never bothered me because I live with a conscious knowledge that I could be among "those people" at pretty much any time, given any number of split-second circumstances. A hundred times I've been an inch away. The bills pile up, the bureaucracy smothers your chances. Your kindness blows up and other people leave you kiting checks, selling souvenirs, taking out tiny loans you'll take years to pay back. Job managers tell you to focus better, but the interest is killing you. When you don't know where the rent will come from, doing little things and filing and smiling customer service can't be high priorities. You can't afford the little things that sedate you and suddenly you realize you can't catch up, so you may as well be calm if you're going to fall. I see the synced-up polarity of calmness and desperation in the eyes floating around over there, downtown, here and there. Once you don't have to worry about falling down, things don't seem so bad anymore. Once you've fallen down, you're desperate at the fear of being trampled. At some point it's just easier to start believing in fate, maybe call it "the will of God," and be fine with what was probably coming anyway. Something people don't understand is that we're all addicts, we're all afraid of living a different way, and sometimes sleeping with one's fears is the best way to control them.