|
|
|
The Delimiter
Sunday, 19 July 2009
"Have a good day."
Parking lot in back at 3rd and Burnside(Photo) "Have a good day.", the girl at the bus stop says. Bill says, "You, too." She's waiting for the 20, "I, just saw the 19 go by." She twists a lock of her hair between 2 fingers of her left hand. The bus pulls up, Bill boards. It's Portland, 23 July 2009. Everybody's out. Bill misses breakfast at the Mission, he's sleepy and 6:30 passes by and he's still in bed in his motel room. He heads for the Senior Center and coffee and donuts. Quik called this morning, they want their money. The Alaska journey is off, this year. Bill hopes he's fit and well, enough, next year to do it. It will take several months to pay his loans. Or he'd consider New Mexico, this winter. It appears he'll be in Portland. He's stable on meds, last hospitalization in Quincy, last year, only ER. He's writing to Sue, again. The JWMatch girl in Washington. There is a thread started by a new-comer at MeetUp, re which translation of the Bible is best. Bill fears this settled feeling, he will regret it. Time passes, too quickly. Charlie Median and more so, Jerry Barnett resented my being more moral, than they and smarter in school. They were both 2 years my senior and I hung around them, anyway. They were Jehovah's Witnesses. I was 12. Jerry used to physcally abuse Bill. He was getting his first semen ejaculations, when Barry McDonald, the bookstudy conductor started hounding him to keep up with the ministry on weekends. We moved and Bill abruptly loses his connection in the Lennox community. The Hawthorne and Yukon Intermediate school experience was different, less harassment, they didn't know me, I wasn't established. I took to liking and spending time with a girl in homeroom, Lorrie Hendrix. It was the year Kennidy was killed. I continued and finished Seventh Grade in Rialto at the junior high school. I was isolated and disoriented then and stopped meeting attendance. We returned to Hawthorne and Lennox and Bill's Father leaves. We moved to Westminster for a year and back to the Rialto area, Colton. While in Redlands, Bill returns to meetings.
Posted by btlsp
at 11:04 AM EDT
Updated: Thursday, 23 July 2009 10:45 PM EDT
Saturday, 18 July 2009
"Maybe I should..."
Bill's in Weaverville(Photo) I am aware of a spiritual component in my mind. When my most successful therapist, first she gained my confidence, then she forced the two-way corridor open, then she granted me release from tyranny. She said I didn't have to keep banging my head on the wall by attending meetings and feeling guilty, because I couldn't do service. But I forgot. I degenerated back to the tyranny. She said, the last session, I would recall all she taught me. I do, but it isn't like her telling me to my face. Like God did to Moses. Maybe I should confront my tyrant, the group of men, who insist on allegiance and participation, despite handicaps and swear at them an hour. Nothing would come of it, they may even call for the men in white suits.
Posted by btlsp
at 11:27 AM EDT
Updated: Saturday, 18 July 2009 12:31 PM EDT
Friday, 17 July 2009
"...didn't know what to do..."
 Bill is on the list at the Hamilton.(Photo)
Bill was, not much better off, last year. He had his teeth. It is 17 July 2009. Last year he was in Portland. He had his truck and a suspended license. He was sleeping in Paul's attic. The new Doctor, Jessica Cuzzens started him on Prozac. It helped him lose his inhibitions and Bill entered the strip club circuit. And more. Paul and Bill disagreed and split. Bill found a room downtown. He stayed 5 months. His Mother got very ill, requiring round-the-clock care. His Brother, Mike arrainged help and paid for it. Bill gave up his room and visited his Mom. He stayed 2 months. He was judged there as disobedient to the Faith he aquired from his Mother. And made to feel guilty. Bill thought of going to Alaska and Albuquerque. He also considered staying in Victorville, where and until he could get his tooth fixed at the best cost. He reurned to Portland. He could have rented, another room, but didn't know what to do. He slept outdoors April, May, June. He left his sleeping bag somewhere and it was taken. He left his jacket on the MAX and it was taken. Today he is at Pilot Project for a 10:30 appointment with Sia. They put him up in a motel room a week. Their complaints are Bill makes too much on SSD and he has debt. Bill has no buds, a girl or a job. His strip club visits are curtailed for lack of funds. Some of the strippers Bill knows are very friendly with him. Bill stopped going to Kingdom Halls and churches. He is on Prozac and Lamictal. At the Kingdom Hall he is pressured to be a JW. At church he is pressured to believe in Heaven and Hell. The pressure to be a JW is unmitigating. Bill needs a friend or a group to express himself. Bill is learning he may have Gender Dysphoria.
Posted by btlsp
at 2:21 PM EDT
Updated: Friday, 17 July 2009 7:28 PM EDT
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
"She insisted, as an adult..."
Regina Spektor(Photo) Went to see my Social Worker, today, Cathy. We talk about guilt. How some groups instill, too much of it. Cathy suggests I am attracted to the social aspect and the structure of the group. Too much guilt, though. About doing and, not doing things. She insists, as an adult I may follow my own path. Certain ones, here have told me the same. Cathy asks me what, else she could do to help me. I say the meds are working and I have a room for a week. She thanks me for coming. She says to be, more kind to myself. Cathy suggests I am unsure I want to stay in Portland. It was a productive, positive 30 minutes. She gives me a list of affirmations, one: "My thoughts do not control my life, I do."
Posted by btlsp
at 5:45 PM EDT
Updated: Friday, 17 July 2009 7:48 PM EDT
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Certified
Bill should win(Photo) Why? Bill has no definition. He wishes to be invisible. Life is a struggle. He's a JW. Or is he? What is he? Does it matter? Can he be, just Bill? Will they permit it? Who is they? Bill is in possession of a copy of his Certificate of Live Birth. He has a Social Security Number. He is not on the FBI's 10 most wanted list. Is this Bill? To whom does it matter. "Bill, right?", says the stripper, Mya, as she takes his money. Bill is a fraud, a wastrel and a baffoon. He is afraid of emotion, so he has none. BOO! Bill is outside of Society. A freak. He's been offered a seat at the table, but he doesn't play. He asks Mya to say it, again. "Thank you guys." Because it sounds cool. Bill is sometimes, on the rare occassion, 10 feet tall, but mostly 2 inches. He sees his therapist a week, before the end of the month and has to wait a week to book another appointment. And she's on loan from Downtown, works in the St Johns clinic, Mondays and Fridays. All Bill knows for certain is he has two legs to carry him and how to stop and go. When Bill dies, he will not have reason to miss life, beacuse despite the joys, they were stolen. If Bill is not a man, what is he? What is Bill? What is anyone?
Posted by btlsp
at 5:34 PM EDT
Updated: Sunday, 2 August 2009 1:50 PM EDT
Friday, 10 July 2009
Fight or Flight?
Devil's Point in the rain(Photo) The fight or flight principle. In school and at work Bill recalls taking the flight approach over the issue of being a JW and dealing with the mountain of inconsistencies, between the JW way and the accepted notions or norms. It was a matter of act stupid and fret, lest I be discovered or state my objections and receive the sting of discrimination. The law requires a minor to attend school. And an adult must participate in the work world to live. Being a JW is work, defending your faith in school and at work, in the ministry and in the congregation. And regimentation. So Bill took up masturbation, as a tonic, or used it conveniently, as one. It became the ultimate flight mechanism. his Father was little help, because he was detached and the "Truth" was anathema to his Father's life and goals. He realized his sons would be faithful to their Mother and her ways. It would be easier to leave them behind. "Dad was a flake.", just today, Bill's Brother, Mike. In Portland, on Prozac and, then Lamictal and 20 strip clubs within reach, Bill indulges. He was forced to sell his truck, adding to the tension and his Mother is near death, so he leaves to see her. He asks to room with his one son. his son tells him he never really liked him and he smells and doesn't go to meetings. Bill returns to Portland but doesn't know what to do or where to go. So he doesn't get a room, again. He spends some of the money on the girls. He gets to "know" some of them "personally" and it is satisfying. instead of meeting attendance, where you are criticized, if you fail the flock's and overseers' expectations. mental illness is not understood there. You try a couple churches, but they are just more god and religion. Stigma and humiliation being a JW.
Posted by btlsp
at 5:40 PM EDT
Updated: Saturday, 18 July 2009 8:29 AM EDT
Thursday, 9 July 2009
Yeppers
 Talia(Photo)
New low. I smell, so I was denied a bus ride today. Because I cannot shake the JW attachment. I am going to get a room, though. Where the mentally ill are put up. An old hotel in Chinatown. It's not far from Magic Gardens :) . Cathy, the social worker is preparing the papers, I may have to sign something. Just, until I can get back on my feet. When is that? I like it at the Faith Center, but I'm not going to Heaven or Hell and they all believe that. So I won't fit in, a square peg in a round hole. If for some reason I have to stay at my tree, I need mosquito repellant.
The meds are keeping me off tall buildings. I'm losing my bank account. I have a back up at BofA. Family is ignoring me. I visited Sex Addicts Anonymous, today. Big crowd. It's not for me. They believe in a higher power and the 12 steps and they are all in unison. Oh, and preach abstinence and say it's a disease.
"Last Crusade"(He chose poorly.") at the Square at dusk tomorrow. I'd like to call Jaimie, she's a stripper, who said she'd see a movie and have dinner, and have sex, afterward, for a gratuity. We hit it off.
I got a lot, a lot a words wrong, this time. Damn me. Yeppers.
Posted by btlsp
at 10:57 PM EDT
Updated: Saturday, 18 July 2009 8:48 AM EDT
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
lie, sin, lie...
Oldest Portland Strip Joint(Photo) Bill is lying. It is a sin. Bill encounters two favorite things. He walks up to the bus stop to wait for the 44. On the corner, a young man and an old man in suits and ties stand beside each other displaying Watchtower and Awake magazines at their chest. It's Downtown Portland. Bill's had his 2 breakfasts, one at Blanchet House, one at the Mission. Bill accepts a pair of magazines from the Japanese woman, who comes up to Bill with outstretched hand, and passes on behind him silently. A third Witness in street work. The 44 is one of the buses up the street, Bill doesn't know it. The other favorite thing is closed, now. 2 weeks. The Bikini Coffee Company, where bikini clad good looking girls in tennis shoes and sandals would sell coffee and hot chocolate to anyone walking into their small shop on Fifth. Bill was an occasional customer. Both the coffee and hot chocolate were worth the admission price. The girls at Hawthorne Strip lie. But the customers come anyway, not many of late, no one has money. They take their clothes off and pretend they will have sex. Instant familiarity. They join you at the bar, between dances and pretend to be interested in your day, in your life, to convince you a $20 lap dance is going to bring you pleasure. To pretend is to lie. Bill lies when he is baptized by the man in the white t-shirt in the pool at the hotel in LA. He lies to himself, to his parents, to anyone that knows him. He wasn't ready, he rushed into it. Revanche is not about a murder, nor is it a mystery. It is a study in lying. Tamara is a prostitute in Vienna. Her lover, Alex works for her boss as gofer. When asked by her boss, if she has a boyfriend, Tamara says no. He wants to set her up in an apartment, no more full time at the brothel to service exclusive clients. He says she may choose to do so, but he lies. She's killed accidentally during a botched robbery with her boyfriend, the proceeds to pay for their life away from the boss. Alex hides at his Grandfather's farm. The neighbor is the police officer, who accidentally killed Tamara. The policeman’s wife wants a child, he cannot bear one, she seduces Alex. After she conceives she's made to know who Alex is and that he always knew about her husband. Bill catches himself in a lie, now and then, when honesty strikes him. Is lying mature? Why do we lie? "Why don't you go to a shelter, you don't like shelters?" asks Sia. Bill's having trouble landing, he cannot find an airport or a suitable strip of land. And he's afraid he will land among cannibals. They will emerge and swarm and drag Bill to Hell. "All you need is a friend.", Dawna, 1998, September. Rod and Dawna have been in Alaska 8 years. Bill's answer is not religion or God or JW's. Or drugs or psycho-therapy. Or maybe it is. Maybe Fate doesn't like Bill.
Posted by btlsp
at 10:37 PM EDT
Updated: Saturday, 25 July 2009 6:55 PM EDT
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
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.
Posted by btlsp
at 9:53 PM EDT
Updated: Tuesday, 7 July 2009 10:13 PM EDT
Saturday, 4 July 2009
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.
Posted by btlsp
at 6:43 PM EDT
Updated: Saturday, 4 July 2009 6:45 PM EDT
Newer | Latest | Older
|
|
|
