Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Going Nowhere

I've been outside for a little over four months, and I'm not getting ANYWHERE at all!

I was supposed to wake up at the luxurious hour of eight o'clock this morning in a nice two-man tent concealed in some underbrush or a thicket somewhere in North Portland, sprawled atop my air mattress next to a book and the headlamp I used to read it last night, firing up my propane camp stove for a simple breakfast of chorizo hash and Irish breakfast tea, getting ready to break everything down and jump on my BMX to head down to Breakfast in Bedlam's fifth year anniversary to play meet-and-greet with the visiting therapy llama. Instead I woke up at a quarter to seven in the makeshift lean-to I make out of my Backpack Bed™, beneath the freeway I've spent most of the past three months beneath when I haven't been trying in vain to move to a location that's less tweaker- and cop-beleaguered (the last spot I tried turned out to be a mosquito-infested pissing ground for a couple street drunks!); cursing myself for my addiction to alcohol and my spendthrift ways, the city of Portland for its corruption and this summer's war on the homeless, and life in general for having made me so screwed up and the world so enthralled to ignorance and greed.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Proletarian Aspirations

I've decided it's time for me to try to go back to work. I'm hooked up with an "employment specialist" at Central City Concern's Supported Employment program and have already gone to one interview and am balking at a temporary assignment as an evening desk clerk at the Helen Swindells, a low-income housing building downtown that's one of those places where people with severe mental health problems are washed up in a sort of last-chance tidal pool by social workers desperate to keep them off the streets; people who can't even be housed in my old building! I wouldn't get off until midnight, which means instead of getting only six hours of sleep a night at best I'll be hoping for four. And then there's the matter of the pre-employment urinalysis, which I can't possibly pass at this time; frankly, the idea of having to just to earn minimum wage galls me considerably — give me a liveable wage, benefits, and a union card, and I'll think about it!

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Yet Another Move

I moved out from beneath the freeway and away from the Maginot Line the night before last, my decision ushered along by the sight of the Midnight Creeper who woke me up with his flashlight Easter morning sauntering past the row of shopping carts and across the Wells Fargo parking lot while I was chatting with a couple of the neighbors there I'd gotten acquainted with. It was the last straw; I'd already had my backpack and sleeping bag stolen by a batshit crazy street girl who compounds her madness and misery with drug use, and the cops had begun to cruise through the area multiple times a day because the local tweaker scene had expanded its thievery to local residents and businesses. I wasn't about to deal with this guy again, especially since I suspect him of having stealthily unscrewed a couple of my shelter's carabiners the night before I spotted him.

Monday, May 5, 2014

Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

Sometimes I just get tired of this blog, mostly because I weary of beating depressing and infuriating ugly truths and experiences into the keyboard. There's times when I want to take a vacation, but because I can't laze around the house or drive my Airstream down to Mazatlan all I can do is prop myself against a freeway pylon on a sheet of cardboard and quaff enough booze that I can get lost for a few hours in whatever scrivenings are pouring out of my pen at the time until I pass out early to bed.