Homelessness
Two posts in one day? I'm on fire! Unfortunately, adding their merits together doesn't even justify a single post between them.
I've been wanting to write about my current "Mock Homelessness." Mock because it's hard to really consider yourself anything close to homeless when you're staying in a nice (I won't say "really nice" but I had unreasonable expectations) hotel downtown.
However, there is at least *some* validity to the argument that I'm temporarily homeless in that I can't stay at my home. There's all my stuff, a mere ten minutes away from where we're staying, but I can't get to any of it because it's all behind an impenetrable wall of if-you-step-on-the-floors-you'll-totally-fuck-them-up.
I had a window to get some stuff that I needed yesterday, but faced with the mass of things strewn about the attic, I totally forgot what I went there for and left empty-handed. I did pack all my "critical can't live without" items (drawing kit, book to write in, books to read, underpants) and have, for a change, actually used all of these items. But the dumb shit, the stuff I don't *need* but could really use is trapped beyond my capacity to acquire.
This deprivation of stuff and the inability to sleep comfortably in my own bed, makes me feel somewhat homeless.
Enough so that when the gibbering lunatic approached us on the street yesterday and paused his animated discussion with himself long enough to ask for $0.65 (accursed missing cents sign!) I told him, "Fuck off, I'm homeless too and don't need to be bothered by your shit!" before kicking him in the chest and sending him on his way.
Note: I did not actually tell said homeless lunatic to fuck off or kick him in the chest. Nor did I give him any money, for reasons unclear even to myself. It's not like I didn't have a pocket full of change that earlier in the same day I was wishing I could just toss into the coin pile at home. People aren't very quick to believe that I'm the worst person ever, but I really am right up there, jockeying for position. At this point, I'm not bothering with trying to redeem myself from going to hell, I'm just trying to get a good seat.
Pretty soon it won't be me giving Hitler lap dances, it'll be the other way around.
Sub-Note: I really did kick a guy in the chest once for being a cock at a Tori Amos concert (of all places to get into a physical exchange), but even my shrink thought it was reasonably justified. I shall add this tale to the list of things I mean to write about but likely never will.
Enough of this. Tonight I drink, tomorrow, at the ass-crack of dawn, I hunt men for sport, hung-over and sleep-deprived. ("Rrraaaaahhhh!!!! Die! Die! ohchristpleasekillmenow Die!" *collapse*)
Good times, good times...
--J
I've been wanting to write about my current "Mock Homelessness." Mock because it's hard to really consider yourself anything close to homeless when you're staying in a nice (I won't say "really nice" but I had unreasonable expectations) hotel downtown.
However, there is at least *some* validity to the argument that I'm temporarily homeless in that I can't stay at my home. There's all my stuff, a mere ten minutes away from where we're staying, but I can't get to any of it because it's all behind an impenetrable wall of if-you-step-on-the-floors-you'll-totally-fuck-them-up.
I had a window to get some stuff that I needed yesterday, but faced with the mass of things strewn about the attic, I totally forgot what I went there for and left empty-handed. I did pack all my "critical can't live without" items (drawing kit, book to write in, books to read, underpants) and have, for a change, actually used all of these items. But the dumb shit, the stuff I don't *need* but could really use is trapped beyond my capacity to acquire.
This deprivation of stuff and the inability to sleep comfortably in my own bed, makes me feel somewhat homeless.
Enough so that when the gibbering lunatic approached us on the street yesterday and paused his animated discussion with himself long enough to ask for $0.65 (accursed missing cents sign!) I told him, "Fuck off, I'm homeless too and don't need to be bothered by your shit!" before kicking him in the chest and sending him on his way.
Note: I did not actually tell said homeless lunatic to fuck off or kick him in the chest. Nor did I give him any money, for reasons unclear even to myself. It's not like I didn't have a pocket full of change that earlier in the same day I was wishing I could just toss into the coin pile at home. People aren't very quick to believe that I'm the worst person ever, but I really am right up there, jockeying for position. At this point, I'm not bothering with trying to redeem myself from going to hell, I'm just trying to get a good seat.
Pretty soon it won't be me giving Hitler lap dances, it'll be the other way around.
Sub-Note: I really did kick a guy in the chest once for being a cock at a Tori Amos concert (of all places to get into a physical exchange), but even my shrink thought it was reasonably justified. I shall add this tale to the list of things I mean to write about but likely never will.
Enough of this. Tonight I drink, tomorrow, at the ass-crack of dawn, I hunt men for sport, hung-over and sleep-deprived. ("Rrraaaaahhhh!!!! Die! Die! ohchristpleasekillmenow Die!" *collapse*)
Good times, good times...
--J