...an election..."flipped" the Denver school board, giving control to members backed by the teachers union... ...Denver school board elections are often...with candidates backed by the Denver Classroom Teachers Association on one side and those backed by ["] education reform groups ["] on the other... "Last night, somebody was like 'Oh, we have a school board member that wears his hat backwards. He's a thug.'" He pulled out a black baseball cap and put it on backward. …"this school board member looks like his district." All three newly elected board members...pledged not to close struggling schools or open new charter schools...
...1) acknowledge the heterogeneity of boys and men and the unique needs of diverse populations; 2) develop culturally appropriate male-focused screening tools... - Denver Urban Spectrum, 1/2020
…"so many sex therapists, so many doctors, so many sex workers...started approaching us almost immediately." ...for women who identified as queer or feminist, or just people who wanted a better experience. …"no matter what level they were at in their sexual journey or their feminist journey. We just did the first in a four-part series about sex-positive parenting. ...we're going to do one on sexuality and media literacy one, and another on porn and social media. We also always do a ropes class..." - Out Front Magazine, 12/18/2019
New Year's Day. I'm headed downtown to meet the sister. I take the bus to the train station, where I disembark with a guy who has his bike. He tells someone when he boards a connecting bus, "Thirteen years in prison cured my criminal mind." My own connecting bus takes me downtown, where I head over to the downtown deathburger homeless central. In a booth are a couple of young guys who sound as if they are from Great Britain. On the other side of the booth is a young guy who appears as if he's homeless. It sounds as though they are getting a kick out of him. A woman in line begins reciting a bible verse. Her friend behind her tells her to shut up. She replies that she can say, "whatever the fuck I want." She turns to one of the Brits to say, "I like your sweater, can I have it?" She says she likes to meet people.
The following week, Tuesday after work. I run into one of my nextdoor neighbors, each of us at our respective front doors in the dark. I mention to him my encounter on New Year's Eve morning, with the townhome resident who made his threat concerning his recycle can. I elected not to make a police report, but to mention it to this neighbor, who is our HOA president. He's aware of him, tells he that he always appears to be drunk, and that he lives with both a female and a child. That this character lives with a child is perhaps the most disturbing news of all. Our HOA president's advice is to avoid him, along with his entire half of the townhome complex. Striking advice from someone at the head of an association in charge of the place he lives. I've heard him mention the other half of this place a few years past.
...the type of community that charms its visitors... "We get to live in the kind of place we'd want to visit." ...a thriving business scene and vibrant neighborhoods. ...the Denver Inter-Neighborhood Cooperation..."strives to...unite the neighborhoods." ...its focus [is] attracting more young and diverse people... [Denver's mayor] said, "we had to turn our attention to the issues facing highly desirable and successful cities." - Life On Capitol Hill, 1/2020
...the only ADA-compliant emergency shelter for men in Denver is...a warehouse across the street from gleaming RiNo luxury apartments and high-end yoga studios. If someone with a disability is at all able to get themselves off the floor in the morning, they can expect to find themselves sleeping on it. "It blows my mind to think that we've been granting dollars to these entities for so long and had never had an interest in whether or not they were accessible"...Councilwoman...CdeBaca adds. [One particular shelter] designed its building to ease...trauma...with warm lighting...soft color palates...a...kitchen with inspirational sticky notes on the walls...
Riding to dispensaries and cultivation tours on weed-friendly buses...playing dab-and-disc-golf tournaments...are now receiving official licensing... ...cannabis painting class...runs...out of the Coffee Joint... …"my painters...do things...better...artistically the more stoned they are. If I'm painting samples for a class...I reward myself for finishing a painting with a dab. Keeps motivation... ...I'll partake during class, but...keep that to a minimum so I don't forget the next steps! ...gradient backgrounds...allow people to...get into a vibe with the process of painting... I had a visitor from out of town over-consume and pass out... The body high...makes the event a much more spiritual-like experience. I was...grateful to the staff at the Coffee Joint for their...expertise on over-consumption... - Westword, 1/16-22/2020
The very middle of the month falls upon the very middle of the week, during the first month of 2020. I'm on my way to the gym before work. I stop at the supermarket downtown first. I'm in line at the check stand where I hear the cashier conversing with her bagger. They both go to the junkyard for parts with which to repair their motor vehicles. "I'm 54 and I've learned a lot in my time." "I'm also 54," I interject, "and I haven't learned anything." "That's too bad," she replies, "I sure have." It's a morning bereft of irony. Surely ignorance is bliss. Outside, I am unlocking my bike as a young woman wanders along. She appears young enough to be a high school student. She's cheerfully asking passersby for, "two dollars?" She has no takers. Her last attempt is from a woman who is speaking Spanish into her phone. She gets around to asking me. I reply that I am saving my pennies for my homeowner's insurance. She reacts by sitting down on the concrete and opening a folder full of documents. Friday. On the way to work, my disc brakes are finally so clogged with road grit that I have no brakes. I will have to wait for my paycheck one week from today to get them serviced. Until then I will need my other bike. Sunday, I am across the street at the Mexican place for dinner. The waitress tells me in Spanish that more Caucasian residents are coming in. She asks me how to say some sentences in English. I'm now teaching English to Mexican waitresses.
Executive assistants...women whose positions vanished are now in their 50s and 60s...the only jobs...some...can get are low-paying and physically demanding... The workers taking their place...make half as much money... ...the [new] model...has...remote executive assistants in five low-cost cities...who support executives in places like Manhattan and Los Angeles. ...partners were increasingly away from the offices... "If somebody's not in our office, yet we have...their assistant [there], where's the disconnect?" ...partners and directors...call travel services themselves. [They] keep their personal lives separate...no one is picking up their dry-cleaning. "This model offers new benefits and broader opportunities and is...meeting changing business needs." "We were the glue for everything. We were so important [once upon a] time." ...the frenetic pace...and flatter hierarchies. [These have replaced] separate dining rooms, reserved parking spots, private offices and personal assistants that help run their lives... [At] retirement parties for the departing assistants [they were handed] $500 gift cards... ...some...worried about paying their bills sold the gift cards for cash. Up to 10 million women across six mature economies...will need to switch roles or careers by 2030... ...women will have more trouble than men...greater responsibilities at home and less freedom to move geographically. - The Wall Street Journal, 1/18-19/2020
Who doesn't want to work in yoga pants without a commute? Until you realize you can't remember the last time you showered or spoke to someone that isn't the baby - or the dog. ...to build a community of women who work alongside each other. The space was designed by...female architects and designers. ...five private offices...a mother's nursing room, a library nook, and a vanity area. ...in-house salon services, dry-cleaning services, pop-up fitness classes, a refrigerator stocked with healthy food, and a regular speaker series. Leadership meetings, meditation sessions...and nap rooms. ...grocery delivery...shoe repair... - Colorado Parent, 2/2020
"I was born in 1940 into a...harem...a luxury of the bourgeoise." ...a place of seclusion for a patriarch [and his extended family to reside all together.] ...behind the "hudud", or sacred frontier...high walls and...iron gates. ...the doorkeeper was the enforcer. ...the females rarely went out...only with permission...vailed and escorted by a male family member. The one connection to the outside world was a large radio...for men's ears only... "My mother doesn't know the alphabet..." [At] a family council of senior male members. Debate was heated, but...decreed that...female cousins could go to school. "If I had been born two years earlier I would not have obtained an education. Historically, only the king and his advisors had information... In 1991, I got a satellite dish. It brought CNN...also...the first Arab satellite stations, and suddenly all the boundaries between private and public...palace and street, and all...dichotomies vanished." - Wright
…[un]confirmed claims that one man...regularly patrolling...had stolen...possessions... ...on a Facebook page...residents...argue that taking possessions from the homeless - drug addicts, in particular - would actually help get them off the streets. "'We were totally gonna clean up this garbage and pack up...but then we got high...and didn't.' If y'all [sic] tend to imagine homeless folks as a class of angels or saints, grow up. If one gets involved, one soon learns...poorly made decisions based on sloth and self-involvement. And we don't help when we pander." - Sentinel, 1/23/2020
The propaganda will start by blaming the victims...and don't understand the disparities between the rich and poor, not giving any credit to the socio-economics in our society. They will make broad generalizations, such as work harder or they are drug addicts, to...discredit...policy changes. And...continue to be fooled by...propaganda that pits Americans against one another...
Vote out the activist politicians...allowing people to camp in the streets. ...this is primarily a drug, substance-abuse and mental-illness problem... - Westword, 1/30-2/5/2020
Wednesday. I'm at the gym where I see my friend behind the desk. I find out that my gym membership is so low because, when we first met a year ago, she gave me a disabled discounted membership. One day this week, I don't remember which, three different street guys ask me for a lighter. One guy asks me for spare change because he's hungry, telling me to fuck off when I don't, on the corner where I work. Thursday, I walk into work. An employee is there from another one of our stores. She tells me a terrible story. Our usual morning person, who started with us late last year, very quickly became one of our best people. Reliable, fast, a tireless cleaner of our new location. A close friend to the other guy here, something I believe he has a hard time finding. Just yesterday, he and she were discussing one of her sons, part of her extended and raucous brood over which she does her dogged and thankless best to keep in line. Her youngest son, seventeen, was in a park late yesterday afternoon. Not a long walk from my home. He likes to pick fights. He picked one with someone who had a gun, and put at least one bullet into him. Someone else drove him to the neighborhood clinic just down the street from me, instead of directly to a hospital. He was dropped there, and the clinic had to call an ambulance to take him to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead. It wouldn't surprise me at all if his mom has to do all the work, perhaps without any help, to arrange his funeral. Perhaps as she did during his life.
Sunday is a busy one. I head out to grocery shop at sunrise, and as I've ferried some food home from the supermarket downtown after work, today's trip is short. Then I'm off to drop off and pick up film. I'm on the bike with no brakes, which I am taking to drop off at work, where I left my other bike. I discovered my boss used to fix bikes and he's going to take a look at this one. So yesterday I decided to take the bus home having hatched this plan. So I ride to work with a sliver of braking capacity. Along the way I stop and pick up some soda for work. I arrive and make the switch before I'm off to the camera shop. I cross a street before it hits me, I can take a bike trail along a thoroughfare which will take me straight there. I get there early and grab an early lunch at another supermarket next door. I'm eating chicken wings outside the shop as customers filter in. One is a family with two tiny daughters there to have photos taken. A few minutes later the door is unlocked and the two girls are each sitting for photos. The last is a toddler. After her photos, she holds up her doll and exclaims, "[Now it's] Baby's turn!" From the back comes my Tall Photogenic Hippie Goddess. I apologize that I didn't let he rewind my film. Then it's off to yet another library used book sale. This one of course would be all the way across town. But the high is supposed to be 51 degrees F today, a nice reprieve from this month's frosty mornings. Outside of the camera shop I grab a bus to the train. The driver sounds as if he's from Louisiana. At the train station, I almost leave my bike on the rack in front of the bus. It's the first time I remember doing this. Perhaps it's a sign that I'm relaxed after several months of having to scheme how I will pay the expenses of mine which all arrive around the beginning of a new year. The train whips me across town, where I catch one bus out to the municipality of Aurora. During the ten years I put in with a previous company, I came out here by train and bus and foot. These were early morning adventures before sunrise. Other times were layovers waiting for connecting buses after sundown. This afternoon I have a short ride from the bus to the library. Last month I was at another library sale where the pickings were slim and being sniffed over by stragglers. Today's sale is hopping. I ask how long I have. "Until four or until we run out of books," I'm told. Patrons laugh. I get a soda which I am allowed to take into the sale. I make it back to the stop shortly before the bus hauls me back to the train, which drops me at a station where the bus home collects me straight away.
The following Monday, I'm at work with my coworker who is familiar with socioeconomic institutional mistrust. He spots an acquaintance making his way through an intersection outside the window. The middle-aged guy in his worn and dirty hoodie and jeans appears to be s street person. My coworker steps out and yells, "Hey, Big Face!" Big Face steps inside for a moment. I think my coworker introduces him as Terry, I'm not sure. He asks Big Face if he's not working. He replies that no, "He's mad at me." "Your boss?" he asks him. "The big boss," he replies. "Because you didn't show up [at work] for a little while?" he asks him. "Yeah," he replies quietly. After work, I'm coming up the steepest hill on my ride home in the dark this time of year. I move over to the left side of the street as an SUV approaches the stop sign, at the intersection at the top of the hill. The vehicle stays behind the sign without proceeding. This isn't unusual in my neighborhood. Most vehicles, with the exception of the city buses, either go too fast or stay put for inordinate periods. I'm walking the hill as I sometimes do. I watch as a middle-aged disheveled woman slowly, slowly wanders in front of the vehicle's headlights. As the vehicle is finally able to continue on its way, she turns as if she wants to address the driver, perhaps ask a question. I get the feeling that she may want to ask directions, or for some help. She's dressed in clothes which appear warm enough, but she appears to be wearing a long sweater which is falling off to reveal a bare left shoulder. I last see her standing by a no parking sign, almost as if she thinks it's a bus stop.
"I want someone that doesn't...approach this from a crime-ridden...point of view. Law and order is not what Aurora needs. We need someone who understands the full diversity of Aurora..." "...what you've given us and what your systems have given us...since 1978 in Aurora, are basically used car salesmen." Following months of protest sparked by [an] in-custody death of [a] 23-year-old...in late August. "I have never seen such a fracture, in my 24 years, with the public." Much of the recent violence has involved area teens, some of whom have ties to gangs, according to various social media accounts and anti-gang crusaders. "This is 200, and...organizations are still trying to intervene and prevent gangs in a 1993 way. They're not necessarily identifying with a park or a school or numbers or anything like that...now, it's six or seven kids who play Fortnite together." ...he nearly walked out of a recent community forum after attendees failed to discuss youth violence. "Aurora has no idea what they're doing at all - none whatsoever. As a kid...I'd think they don't give a f[uck] about us. ...and if you go to these meetings, they don't." - Sentinel, 1/23/2020
Wednesday. I'm approaching the front door to work. On the opposite corner is a homeless guy, his chin sticking out of the hood of his coat. He's yelling, "YOU EXPECT ALL THESE THINGS FROM ME!" It makes me think of the guy I work for, who is taking time out of his busy day to help me get the brakes on my bike working again. I mention to my coworker that I am running down to the bike shop. He has so far brought two different newspapers to work, the last one in the kind of plastic bag used for home delivery. These are the very first newspapers I've ever seen him with. I suspect that he's stealing them. I head over there to pick up some mineral oil, as my owner instructed. Inside are four employees discussing new bike lanes in the city, mentioning that the city council passed a resolution giving bikes the right of way in bike lanes. Bike as opposed to...what exactly in bike lanes, you may ask? Electric scooters. Back at work, my coworker mentions that our other coworker's son, who was shot and killed last week, was a member of the gang known as the Bloods. The Westside Bloods. His killing a drive-by. She is due back to work on Monday. On Thursday, the owner comes into work. He opens the reservoirs on each of my brakes and fills them with the mineral oil I bought. He works the brakes to remove the air bubbles, replaces one gasket, and replaces the covers. I have brakes again, thanks to my boss. I'm ready for the next month.
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