Hello world!
Posted by Homeless in Slo Times on October 23, 2009
I woke up to a grove of willows brushing against my car window this morning! They were trembling. Darn, it was going to be another cold day but I hadn’t heard the wind and it wasn’t colder.
When I sat up and looked out there were maybe twenty tiny finches playing chase back and forth. I love being up close and personal with nature, really close. Now I can be, full time, whenever I want. There is an up side to everything when you care to look.
I’ve got a date today with my sweetie. We’ve been together now for 8 months. I met him when I first went to live in one of the transition homes here in SLO. I didn’t last long there though. I couldn’t get my life together and afford to buy my bed, too. I still visit when I pick him up. He’s an indentured servant in America, working for a bed and food with the honored title of staff.
I don’t think that’s legal in some countries, ours being one of them but he’s older than I am with a deep fear of going out there on his own again. The head Poobah, I’ll just call him Pooh for short knows his fear and is a human predator. Pooh made the statement to me just once, “You can’t market!” We were discussing my being short on my bed donation of $300, which went up to $550 the first week I moved some of my stuff in. He thought I should get out and get a real job because clearly I was not verbally impaired. We both knew I couldn’t live on general assistance which was $335, only because I had a place to live that would feed me also. They let me keep $35 and feel bad about it. Like I was manipulating those Machiavellian’s.
So, two months later, when I’d received notice that my car insurance was pending and my cell phone was going, too, I gave the ranch, my notice. I’d decided to go back to the shelter or live in my car if I could manage it somehow. The assistance went down to $115 per month but I could keep my cell phone and insurance because my food stamp were $200 a month on the street and I figured I’d ask my kids for a coleman stove, so, I could cook for myself again. I love to cook!
They were very pissed off about my asserting my little snotty self and making the non-verbal suggestion that living on the street was preferable to putting up with their attitude about the lions share of my money. Well, the word went out to the residents, I was being evicted for non-payment.
That made me more upset than anything since messing up my suicide. I knew they wouldn’t have any trouble filling my bed with someone who would really use it!
They knew I was sharing Bobo’s bed, but I didn’t know they were aware of my nightly visitation. I learned months later but they couldn’t come out and state what was known to them, could they?
Previously, Pooh had given me his special papal dispensation to move a part of my craft studio in, promising to connect me to retailers in Morro Bay that were professional acquaintances. When I did call on them they wouldn’t return my calls and upon leaving my portfolio and picking it up a week later, were busy and would get back to me. He liked my hobby stuff, alot and had made an offer through one of his sycophant managers to take it off my hands in exchange for a yet to be determined trade for rent. No way. I would need to be awarded the stuck on stupid award.
I had tried to commit suicide only a few months earlier and was locked up in the county’s mental spa, in a paranoid state, I assumed he’d dropped something to them about my instability. I was and probably am. What would that have to do with my creativity? No, I’m no savant. I make stuff out of found stuff. Their loss.
I digress. It’s the mental thing sometimes. I need to get this posted before Baby goes to sleep. That’s what Bobo and I call my lap top. I’ve promised him a lesson on operating her today. I think he should write his own blog. He’s a very talented human being and the man who saved my life this year. I’ll talk to you soon. Maybe tomorrow.
