Confessions of an insomniac


I live in a quiet neighborhood cloaked by giant pecan tress, long tresses of honeysuckle and trumpet vines that obscure the details of our private lives. Wednesday, July 09, 2003

I sit in the chair looking across the alley viewing an backyard filled with junk: 1 red used Ford pick up truck, a flatbed-type trailer loaded done with household appliances – washing machine, dryer, etc. This backyard is strewn with lumber, tools and framed with overgrown weeds and grass. Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Last weekend I drive past the front yard of this residence and notice clothing lines on the fence, more appliances, furniture, two leather sofas…its was like the entire innards of the house were on display.  It was a junk-fest. Friday, July 4th, 2003 8AM

The evening of the start of the weekend brought the two flashing police cars to the junk-fest.  Friday, July 4th, 2003 9PM

Afterthought: Several months earlier, there were 8 cops with flashlights searching the aforementioned backyard. Thursday, March 13th, 2003

Several sightings of the same early AM activity, months ago: young men hauling stuff to and from the backyard. [From January to June 2003.]

Now all is silence, until last weekend. Wednesday, July 09, 2003. 9:46:45 AM

The lights go on at 10 PM in the house across the alley. I sit outside, near the tomato patch, listening to the young man argue with another young man. I hear him shout the name of his associate “Jeff! Get your shit together on this!”

No reply. Jeff quietly watches the louder man, then, takes drag on his cigarette. They began to bend down to look at something near the trailer. This trailer is hitched to the red pick up. It appears to be loaded with washing machines, dryers and dish washer.

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