It's been a long time since the first entry in this journal, probably too long. I'd made many trips into DC since then, for sure. And alot of them definitely were memorable, and could have made good journal entries. But the simple fact is that I got lazy. I admit it, I just didn't take the time to write them down, and the memories aren't fresh enough to put down now. And well, during that two month mistake of a relationship I didn't go into DC much at all, with the exception of the occasional concert. At any rate, this adventure is certainly a good enough excuse to begin writing these things down again.

      I didn't realize until we broke up just how much I'd relied on Theresa to go out on weekends. Sure, I still had to deal with loneliness, but only during the weeks, when I didn't see her as much. Now, I was remembering what exactly why I always left the apartment when I could. The walls were closing in and bringing depression with them. So I did what I always do, got out and decided to find some chaos. I hadn't taken a good ride into DC since my birthday, and still had a little money on a subway ticket, so figured that would be the place to go. I headed into Dupont Circle, still one of my favorite haunts, and figured I'd go from there.

      Riding in on the train was the same as I remembered, as it is second nature to me by now. Dupont Circle didn't look any different either, except that between it being Sunday and now well into fall, there weren't alot of people on the street. So, the usual eye candy of interesting people was cut off, but I had places I'd been meaning to check out for a while, and off I went. First on my list was a record store called Smash Records. I'd heard of it being a good place to get industrial/gothic type music and alot of cool alternative clothes. I knew it was somewhere on M street, somewhere in Georgetown. Well, there are no subway stops anywhere near that area, but I know M street ran right through where I was at, and it should be around 10 blocks or so to the record store. Again, it was a nice day, and I don't mind a good walk.

      Things did get worse before they got better. The area of small shops that is Dupont Circle gives way to tall office buildings housing various businesses, government offices, and embassies. One of those embassies happens to be the Mongolian one, which did give me a bit of a chuckle, not really sure why. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that nature started calling, and I was in need of a bathroom. Most people don't take kindly to a random guy marking his territory on a building. It's really looked down on in the nation's capitol. So, tried the one bathroom in the area, and found the bathroom to be out of order, and had to hold on longer. So I kept walking until I saw my salvation, small wooded area right before a bridge along the street I was walking down. On closer inspection, the wooded patch was a fairly decent sized park, which led downhill to a river, and a trail from the road headed directly into the woods. Now, I may have been in haste, but I was still observant enough to notice it was a national park. Of course, all parks in Washington DC are national parks, so that didn't phase me. Anyway, it took a bit to get far enough away from both the road and the main trail to not be seen. I had to go about halfway downhill, but it was an easy climb. If anything, I was overjoyed at all the climbing and woods roaming, which I haven't done in far too long.

      Well, I found a nice tree to stand behind and none too soon. The relief that came was definitely worth the trouble. With a bit of looking around, I noticed I wasn't the only one who liked the secluded spot. There were condom wrappers all over the place, and couple used condoms. Now that struck me as a bit funny, because the trail was awfully narrow for anyone to be laying down. Then it occurred to me how naive I still am sometimes. The thought came to me "How far am I from Dupont Circle?" I chuckled a bit as I realized I had wandered into a gay hookup spot, as I was only a few blocks from a place I know from experience (see DC Stories 1) is sort of like the San Francisco of the mid Atlantic. So, I just was happy I had the equipment to relieve myself on a tree, and remembered not to wander down there in the dark.

      Feeling a bit lighter in my step, I casually walked out of the woods, and headed back to the road, and got back on my way. It wasn't long after crossing the bridge that I came across all sorts of bright shinies. I'd wandered over into Georgetown, one of the nicer, quaint business oriented parts of DC, alot like Dupont Circle. The sidewalks were pretty crowded, but I managed to make my way through the people with little trouble. I got a quick lunch at Subway there, and decided it wasn't a good idea to return, prices were higher than normal and the quality was lower. Besides, there are too many small restaurants that I avoided with my fast food ways. Anyway, one of the bright shinies I wanted to check out was a mall I'd noticed. When I got there, I found it was a great find, as it had public bathrooms, which are rare in the city. The mall itself was very beautiful, and was fun to walk around, even if the stores were a little upscale to appeal to me that day.

      After spending my time checking out the mall, I kept on my way to find the record store I'd been searching for, and found it with little trouble. It is fairly small store, but was interesting nonetheless. The clothing seemed to mostly be for women, but was still fun to look at. More than half the store was devoted to punk music and the like, but they had a respectable industrial section. At any rate, almost all the stuff in there was fairly obscure, at least from a purely commercial point of view. This was not your average mall music store. I perused for a while, not terribly sure what to get, just knew I couldn't spend too much. After a bit of self bargaining, I walked out with a Lords of Acid CD I'd been trying to find for a while.

      It was time to head back, and on the way I managed to find a couple other interesting stores. The first of which was an art supply store that was so large it took up three floors. After drooling in there for a while, I wandered into a store that defies description. A conversation I overheard walking in called it "Banana Republic on crack". That was about the best thing I could think of to describe it myself. Although there wasn't anything I wanted to buy offhand, it was still interesting to look around. There were all manner of clothing, weird trinkets from the last several decades, and other bizarre things you can't find anywhere else. That held my interest for a while, but I had other plans.

      In another part of DC, there are 2 clubs I tend to go alot, and I wanted to see in the daylight how close they were together, and the best way from the subway station to both. Since the closest subway station I could find my way to was back at Dupont Circle, I headed back that way. Nature called again, so as luck would have it, I found the same exact condom-littered spot I had used before.

      After heading back to the station, and I hopped on the usual train to that part of town. The particular train I was on stopped about 2 stations earlier than I needed. Instead of waiting for the next train, I decided I would walk a few blocks above ground. That was not the best idea I've ever had. It didn't take much walking to realize that not only was this a bad neighborhood, it was a really bad place to be a white male in a fairly expensive leather jacket. I don't have a racist bone in me, but I can tell when I'm somewhere that I'm not looked on highly for being white. Luckily, there are alot of churches in the area, and it was Sunday, so I was somewhat safe. As I headed a couple blocks from the station, things got worse. Mostly people on the streets just gave me dirty looks, although I did get a few of usual homeless people asking for change. That doesn't bother me, as I am used to it from other parts of DC and Baltimore. Even when I had someone shouting questions from across the street, it was alright, mostly because I couldn't understand the guy. I think he was asking for money or if I wanted to buy drugs. I just said no, and kept on going, as he was across the street.

      I made it another block or so before something that I wasn't prepared for at all happened to me. I was heading down the sidewalk, keeping a steady, quick pace. Coming at me from the other direction was a small, elderly African American woman. I grew up alternately in Arizona and the midwest, so I have a bad habit of making eye contact with pretty much everyone, and if they are non-threatening, nodding my head or saying hello. Having lived in an urban area on the east coast, I should have learned not to do that, but haven't broken the habit. Why should I break that habit? Well, because it tends to get me into trouble. Sure enough, the woman acknowledged my presence, and while she did look a little off in the head, she looked safe enough. Well, out of nowhere, she asked if I got high. I politely responded that I don't, and kept walking. Without skipping a beat she offered me a blow job for eight dollars. I responded back with a hurried denial and started walking faster. She lowered the price to five dollars, but I said no again, and kept walking. It took me a few minutes to get over the feeling of sickness in my stomach, because that not only caught me off guard, but really made me sick. I often wander into seedy parts of town, and not much phases me, but that did it. It made me move one hell of alot quicker to where I was going.

      There wasn't much friction after that, which was fine by me. One very drunk guy started babbling about how much he liked my leather jacket, but he was pretty safe otherwise. It was back to the weird looks again, and that's about it. When I did finally get to the block I wanted, I took a quick walk around to see anything I'd missed in the night time. I did figure out the best ways from the subway to both clubs, checked how close they were, and everything else I could scope out during the day. Having had enough excitement for the day, I headed to the subway, and back home. The ride back was uneventful, as was the rest of the evening, short of a much needed phone call from my friends in New Hampshire. After all, I had to tell someone about the elderly crack whore. . .