Some nutjob shot up my town this morning. Maybe you heard.

Five seemingly random deaths. The first guy was killed right outside the grocery store where we shop, not a quarter of a mile away from where we sleep. Another person was killed in Aspen Hill, only a couple of miles up the road. As I write this, no word has come that they're any closer to catching this joyriding psychopath than at ten this morning.

I don't like the way this makes me afraid to go home. I don't like the way it makes me afraid to go anywhere. I don't like the feeling of running a catalogue of the contents of my refrigerator in my head, just making sure I don't have to stop anywhere for food on the way home.

I don't like being worried about picking my wife up at the Metro after her class tonight, or asking her to wait in front of the station instead of the parking lot.

I don't like the way this makes me think about my own mortality, or what would happen if this were the last day of my life, about how much I've left unfinished. I don't like facing how terribly fragile life is, and how random and unpoetic death can be.

I'm so damn fucking tired of bad news. I feel like my heart is breaking from it.

Anyway, I hope all are safe out there in the big, awful world. If I could get a wish today, it would be that everyone love each other just a little bit extra tonight. We could all use it.

Hugs.