you’re not safe. still.

Jim had a rough weekend. It turned out alright in the end, but once again some sick fuck spiked a girl’s drink, and she’s lucky to be alive.

For a while there people were vigilant. You kept your eye on your drink, and you did the same for your friends. But we haven’t heard much about Rohypnol in a while. Or the Date Rape Drug. We have media-trained attention spans. If it drops out of the news we tend to forget about it.

Maybe it’s time we put out another wake up call: do not leave your drink unattended at a bar. Hell, get yourself a regular bartender even. Or at least go back to the same one all night. That way 1- he or she will know how much you’ve had, and if you suddenly start acting smashed they’ll know that something is up, and 2- you’ll know this one is safe.

I’m not saying you should be so untrusting that you suspect the bartenders, but neither am I saying they’re necessarily innocent just because they’re behind the bar. For all you know, a psycho could be paying a bartender a large amount of money to spike a pretty girl. Maybe even on a regular basis. I know a lot of bartenders in this town, and I like them all. But then again I didn’t think Victoria was the sort of town where someone would burn down a nightclub either.

Do I think a bartender was responsible for spiking Jim’s friend’s drink? No, not really. But don’t take anything for granted. I’m not paranoid. I have no qualms about ordering a drink wherever I go. I don’t want you to start fearing bartenders any more than you fear doctors or mechanics. What do I think? I think it was another patron. I think there’s a sick fuck or two, or ten, who think rape is amusing. Here’s my wish, dear sick fuck: may your little penis rot before your very eyes, and may you die slowly, and painfully, and publically, over a course of months. May you be laughed at for the coward you are, and may your humiliation and shame be the worst pain of all.

Please, everyone: just don’t let your drink out of your sight. It really is more important than watching your purse. If you put your drink down it is no longer a known factor. You can’t trust it. You might as well walk blindfolded in traffic.

*sigh*

I’m glad she’s okay, and I’m glad the world has a few Jims in it.

“Stubbornly refuse to become blinded to the beauty that is still in the world.”

I’ve been spending Sundays out in the woods lately. Lost out on some random logging road. I find myself emptying out, and filling up with a deep peace. You’re surrounded by breezy trees and a cheerful creek, and things like work and taxes are a million miles away. I’ll notice I’ve been smiling for three hours straight and I wonder why I haven’t taken more pictures.

Zen… I bet Zen started with a creek.