My neighborhood is flooded due to a rainstorm last night. Driving home from the bar I went through a puddle I thought I'd gone through before, only to find that it was a block longer and a few inches deeper. The drainage in the streets around my trailer park is awful, but that's OK- it's not like I or my neighbors pay our taxes or anything, so doubtless we all understand being treated as if we do not deserve the benefit of public works programs.

My life lately has felt like a Dostoevsky novel, full of conspiracies, coincident natural disasters, vice, and family. Those of us who were at the party on Monday have more or less figured out who drugged V. and S.'s drinks. We knew it had to be someone at our table, and of all of us there's only one person who hasn't been back since; this person has hit on S. when her boyfriend wasn't around and then been innocuously friendly when he was; he's a drug dealer and runs an underground gambling ring. And he was the first to start rubbing up on V. when she started to show symptoms of GHB.

I'm wary of doing anything rash. Speaking of Dostoevsky, bad people sometimes neglect to do awful things. I can imagine being an asshole such as the person we are holding responsible, and coming home to a bunch of guys looking to beat the stuffing out of me for a really terrible thing I didn't do. Not wanting to beg and unable to explain, out of guilt and shame for unrelated peccadilloes. The bar's owner keeps surveillance tapes, and we're trying to get our hands on them so we can make absolutely certain we know who put the drugs in the liquor.

The other night I spoke with S. and her boyfriend. She agreed on who she'd thought did it, and was mortified at having made out with V. in public, at her workplace, no less. The poor woman was just embarassed. I took her boyfriend aside after awhile.

"You know, I understand if you're suspicious that it might've been me-"

"No, no, I never thought that for a second-"

"...But when V. and S. determine to their satisfaction that it wasn't- as I know they will- if they want someone to do something about this crap, I just wanted to let you know I'm behind them, and I know the rest of the guys are, too."

S.'s boyfriend stopped and sized me up for a minute. I imagine it took a lot of effort for him not to laugh. I'm 5'11" and weigh about 150 lbs., not much of which is muscle.

"Listen, I think we just have to see what the police investigation turns up. The shit that the judicial system can do to this guy is way worse than anything we can. A couple of years ago, I might've said sure, and I appreciate your offer, but we should just sit back and see what happens next."

"OK, I understand that. I just wanted to let you know, just in case."

We went back inside. Half an hour later, S.'s boyfriend walked up to me and said, "You know, if the courts don't come through, we're going to have to take care of this."

"I'll be there," I said.

There's an assistant District Attorney who hangs out there, and he's said that even if we could find evidence of drink tampering on the tapes, it would never be enough for a conviction- the defense would say, "What if that's aspirin he was putting in her drink?" The DA extricated himself from the conversation as soon as possible. He's dating a bartender. "Tears my ass up, but there's nothing we can do about it..."

Reminds me of a line in O Superman: "...'Cause when love is gone, there's always justice. And when justice is gone, there's always force. And when force is gone, there's always Mom. Hi, Mom!"