Fourth of July

It was noisy, I live between the auto race track and the horse race track and fireworks continued into the wee hours. I'm going to get a Payee to manage my SS money, tomorrow, because I can't and come out even. Now if I started with more..., like I used to. Ran into an old girlfriend at Hawthorne Strip, today, I bought her knee high socks, once many months ago. We chatted at the bar. Her name is Pixie, yes Pixie. She's lots of fun. I think the strip bars is my replacement for the KH. Same chat, less judgment. And pretty views, to boot. And a lot of strippers are down on their luck, too, just getting by, doing anything for another 10 or 20. I am just getting by, because I elect to hold onto the promises of the Faithful and Discrete Slave, instead of investing in the possibilities of this life and this world. Always been that way. But I don't get the rewards, now, because I cannot be true. And I cannot make myself "Evil", with complete deliberateness, because that would be the end of ALL hope, not of the life now, but the one to come. I'm a die hard JW brat, even though I don't believe in it. I challenge anyone to contest my faithlessness. My social worker intimated today, I squander my funds gambling. Does she know me, does she take the time and effort, or is her job, just a job. Just a job, I think. I am continually knowing new things about myself. Like that "woman thing". No I won't walk around in a dress and heels, but I am not all man, either. There are those who are all man and all woman. I've seen them. And I have seen me.

 freak: a person or animal on exhibition as an example of a strange deviation from nature; monster.

I am a freak, because I have made my mind up to, not make it up. I know no religion, belief or persuasion. I am factless, gutless and stupid. I don't know right from left, up from down. My 2 parents lead me on 2 paths and I chose another. No path. Just stop, just petrification, just nothing. If I found the truth, it would kill me, because there is no truth and there is all truth. It would be such a fright. Like seeing a here-to-fore unseen phenomenon.

My freakness mauls me, because I appear in person, exposed to those who are not freaks. I am a freak. Those who are not freaks wish me out of there sight or dead. To be a freak is a sad, dismal existence. Friendless and assaulted continuously and perpetually. There is no hope. I grow more, not less freakish.

4324 Days

Bill sits in the airport, alone, finishing a coffee.  He takes his new hat off and pulls it back on.  The man behind him reads the paper, another talks on his cell phone.  The 3 phone booths in front of Bill are vacant.

 Bill spreads the wool blanket on the ground and lies down.  He unfolds the acrillic blanket and lays it on top of him.  He goes to sleep, alone next to the giant pillar supporting the MAX line track.  He will go off to the laundry, alone.  This has been for 4324 days.  Lydia and the boys left, 31 August 1997.  Bill has no one to share his activity with or experiences or with whom to confer and plan and dream.  Bill dreams alone.

"I'm never going back there.", Sobie says to Bill.  Sobie is a stripper Bill meets.  "In Canada they throw lighted matches at us on the stage."  She leaves a fiance there.  "For a black girl, she plays very little rap.", Sobie comments on another girl's music selections.  She's worked at Soobies, 2 weeks, she sees Britney, the bartendar Bill likes quit.

 The pickup and trailer hitched behind is back.  It shared Bill's forest, once before.  Bill grabs his blankets and sleeps by the pillar 100 yards up the road, undisturbed.  He considers rolling up the wool blanket and attaching it to the backpack.  It will be obvious to observers, Bill is in transit.  He can go the summer with the blanket, but come Fall and Winter, he will need another sleeping bag.

Transients

Bill sees the indigant with his possessions beside him and his dog.  Up ahead.  Bill strolls down 6th Avenue.  The indigant has a cup in his hand and spies Bill coming toward him.  Bill pulls a dollar bill from his pocket, folds it twice and drops it in the cup.  It lands on an empty bottom, but it is early.  The man thanks Bill and Bill walks on.

Bill smells the urine at the top of the stairway.  It gets stronger as he descends to the Burnside MAX station, below the bridge.  Where transients sleep and dream and pee.  Bill's bound for Kinko's on the light-rail, where he will get envelopes and the envelopes metered for the bills he will pay by mail.

 Bill lives in Inglewood and suburb, Lennox in the 60's, 6 years.  Where there are traffic signals, like Portland, the city he, now calls home.  He lives in Fallon, where there are 3 lights, 6 years, too.  Bill lives next to LAX, an international airport, in Lennox, Fallon has a small. one runway public airport and the Naval Airbase outside of town.

"You're very nice to look at."  Bill tells the stripper.  "My boobies or me?"

The redhead girl, mid-teens is loosing her wisdom tooth, little by little and in pain.  Bill sits on the low wall at Pioneer Square, waiting for the Yellow Line.  She's bummed change from Bill, before.  Today she asks him for pain killer.  Bill has 2 left in his backpack, he digs them out.  She thanks Bill, her boyfriend calls her.  They are destitute and look for handouts.  Bill will see her, again.

Two Days...

Bill has reached the 2 day mark.  Payday is Thursday in July.  He plans to impliment Plan A, where he pays his bill's and remains homeless, another month.  Pilot Project was a disappointment.  Judgemental re Bill's perdicament.  He is not financially solvent.  He was hit with defaults on loans the 3rd of June, because he changed meds and it made him drowsy, which caused him to make mistakes and misjudgements.

He felt very uncomfortable, social phobia, in St Francis, at dinner last night.  He was petrified in his chair.

Welcome
Geocities shut Bill down, so welcome to Lycos Tripod.  29 June 2009.