Things I See in DC - #3

I'm an observer. I watch people and things and try to make some sense of them. This world is a strange place, and writing down what I see makes me feel like less of an alien. I see a lot of interesting things in my adopted hometown of DC. Here are a few such things:

Things I See in DC - #3 (September-November, 2012)

It’s nine o’clock on a Monday night, and I’m reading a book on my porch and enjoying a glass of California pinot noir, like I do sometimes. I see two guys running up my hilly street. They’re thirty-somethings, dressed like tool-bags with all the pricey running garb and tassles, tufts of wet hair flopping over their ears. The one on the right checks his gadget-watch, huffs to the other: “Mile one: six minutes, two seconds.” The other one says back: “Nice! Let’s pick up the pace!” And they run off down the street, faster now. I take a sip of my wine and watch a mouse as it starts to dig a hole in my garden.

I grab a seat at the bar in Jack Rose. I look up at the library-style wall of Scotch, trying hard to make out the names in the hazy glow: Ardbeg, Auchentoshan, Bowmore, Bruichladdich. There must be hundreds of them, thousands perhaps, each bottle holding onto its own savory Scottish secret. A man plops down two barstools to my right. He’s my age, clean as clean-cut gets, his curly hair slicked back and gelled into a crisp helmet. He’s sporting slick shoes and a show-off suit that’s been far too carefully ironed. It isn’t long before a pretty blonde appears, stepping up to him with delicate feet. “Are you so-and-so?” she says. “Yes, and you must be so-and-so,” he replies. She takes a seat next to him. I sip my Highland Park and wonder what the hell this woman is doing with this guy. Mr. Clean grabs the bartender’s attention, and she walks over to take his order. Instead of asking his first date what she’d like, he looks up at the massive wall of whiskey and thinks of his own beverage. He scrunches up his brow and asks the bartender, simply: “Do you have any Scotch?”

In DC's Eastern Market neighborhood, mirrors of city life. ©Isaac James Baker

Click here for the July-August 2012 installment.
Click here for the May-June 2012 installment.

Things I See in DC - #2

I'm an observer. I watch people and things and try to make some sense of them. This world is a strange place, and writing down what I see makes me feel like less of an alien. I see a lot of interesting things in my adopted hometown of DC. Here are a few such things:

Things I See in DC - #2 (June-July, 2012)

A chipmunk scurries through a hole in the fence, onto the patio, eying a saltine cracked I left out, knowingly, just for her. She chomps it down and stuffs her cheeks full, escapes through yet another hole in the fence. The whole time my cat, Sonoma, watches from behind the glass, keen, focused, shivering with the want of violence.

I’m on a red line train, coming home from a baseball game, when a young man walks up to me. He slaps me five, gives me a hug and asks, "Where'd you serve time, bro?" After some interesting discussion about my lack of time behind bars, this gentleman informs me that the placement and design of one of my tattoos has a deeper meaning than the one I ascribe to it. Apparently, according to my tattoo, I’m a member of a certain Latino gang, a member who has served time in California state prison. After explaining this to me, the man pulls up his shirt and shows me his tattoo, which is strikingly similar to my own.  

Click here for the May-June 2012 installment.

A bird stops by to say hello while I'm working on some writing in Cleveland Park .

Things I See in DC - #1

I'm an observer. I watch people and things, trying to make some sense of them. This world is a strange place, and writing down what I see makes me feel like less of an alien.



I see a lot of interesting things in my adopted hometown of DC. So I've decided to start a new segment titled, surprisingly, "Things I See in DC." Here is the first installment, based on things I've seen in April and May of 2012.

Things I See in DC - #1 (April-May, 2012)

My landlord scuffling down the alleyway, a trash bag in his hand, pulled taught. He walks five houses down, dumps his trash in another person’s bin, then struts away nonchalantly.

Three well-aged black men sitting on a front stoop, blowing on Happy Meal kazoos, laughing, celebrating…

She’s blind, the old white woman who wanders my neighborhood, her only safe route the one her faithful dog chooses for her. She looks to be about sixty, but her youthful spirit is evident in her strong legs and broad shoulders. Her hair is thick, nearly white, like dried straw pulled back in a crisp ponytail. She sees, in her own way, and I’m sure it is beautiful.



A young woman, pretty, rich, white, oozing snobbery, chatting on her cell phone as she walks past my front porch. All I hear her say is, “I can deal with a little bit of sleaze, but this guy takes it too far.”




A wall in a bathroom in a bar... Somewhere in DC...