Had a gun fired about 10 feet away from me as I walked to the MacArthur BART station last night on my way to a go-go gig in Union Square. I had just turned the corner from Telegraph onto 40th when I heard what sounded like a couple of kids arguing behind me. Then POP, and my blood went cold. A red car with a few people sped away, and a kid said "That's fucked up" and skateboarded past me. I have no idea if anyone was hit or not. I wasn't exactly in the mood to hang around and find out.
The gig itself was fine--despite it being a club we would never go to otherwise, whittles, tristan_crane, and I had a good time. And I didn't even notice the asshat who apparently stretched out in a banquette and started taking pictures up my skirt. Security confiscated his camera and ordered him out, warning him that if he put up a fuss, he'd leave in handcuffs on a charge of sexual battery. Gotta hand it to them--they took care of us and made sure we were safe and happy. Was sad to miss a number of people at the DNA, but really I was tired and just wanted to go home.
Today I felt like death warmed over. Worked from home a bit, then came into the city, and am now getting some writing done in a cafe in the Mission with a coworker. Tonight, the mantini is working another voter awareness/fundraising house party, this time in Berkeley, and I'm not sure I'll be willing to leave my apartment, quite frankly. It may be a good night to curl up on the couch with the dog, my laptop, and an episode of Buffy. For whatever reason, I find stakes so much easier to handle than firearms.