claudia, part one

okay, claudia. here's my reply to your first email, finally. sorry for the delay, i don't get much time to think these days. i'm sorry you tried this with another homeless guy, they aren't all nearly as coherent as i am, and i apologize for that. if there was one homeless person that it would be worth helping out, it would be me, and i can guarantee that. most homeless people are lowlifes you should be afraid of. i don't blame you for that, i feel the same way. and you're very welcome, i'm glad i could help you.

since we couldn't start early in the morning, i'll give you the beginning of my days here. i wake up off the concrete when the sun rises, sometimes before. i'm a morning person. i walk up to seven eleven, and beg someone for a hot chocolate. i don't do coffee. i sit and smoke and have my morning, try to piece some thoughts together for what i want to do that day. finding motivation for actual priorities is nearly impossible. especially lately, i seem to be thrown off track. when i'm done smoking, i usually sit in starbucks till the library opens.

i used to have a bit of a daily routine at least, which kept my mind functioning better. up in seattle, there was breakfast, lunch, and dinner under the bridge by sixth and columbia. eight am, one pm, eight pm. then, just up the street, every weekday at four pm, on ninth and columbia, at saint james cathedral, they would have a nice indoor dinner with deserts and milk. actual glass plates, metal forks, mugs, a tray. so i basically had four meals a day up there, all within one little area. between those, you could find me at the downtown library. being without a daily routine of at least more than one free meal has been destructive on my ability to focus and think.

the only free meal in this area is on sycamore and romaine after six pm, when it's already dark. it's easier at this point to just find a seven eleven and beg someone for cheap food. but honestly, i'm so sick of cheap food. i miss being able to eat and enjoy it. i miss quiznos. i haven't had a steak in years. i would give anything for a prescription for oatmeal at this point. and weed. i don't like going down to the sycamore and romaine meal, i don't like being around that many other homeless people, shuffled into a single file line, assimilated, told what to do, how to do it, who to be, what to act like, what laws i must obey, and given no options. i remember, working jobs, you used to be able to go into the human services department or whatever, and request what they call a 'reasonable accommodation', if you have some disability or some reason that limits your ability to work. for example if you need a pillow to sit on, and they don't allow pillows for whatever stupid childish reason. i find humanity whines too much, and always gets what they want, but neglects those like me, who need. we don't get wants. people with homes will never understand that, simply because they don't have to. their leaders made this world safe for them, but not us.

i wish i could convey to them what it feels like to be an outcast; cast out from a society we didn't want to participate in in the first place. fake plastic people with fake plastic masks, fake plastic smiles if ever, looking down their nose at you like they're better than you, when they're truly not. delusional humans that think themselves above another human. i've always been fascinated by that mentality, so much so that i truly want to study it, like freud would have, and come up with some sort of diagnosis, though they would never listen to it, simply because... they don't have to.

anyway, that's where i am now. in starbucks, which i prefer to call starfucks. it's seven:fifty am. i wish i could explain to the starbucks people why i don't want to buy their products. that i'm honestly just here for the 'free wifi'. i hate starbucks, i hate anything popular, that the masses shove down their gullets every day. i don't do coffee, only hot chocolate, and the hot chocolate at starbucks fucking sucks, it tastes powdery and nasty, and it's way too expensive for even a small. two fifty for a small, three fifty for a large, same at mcdonald's. why go there for crap ass powder water, when i can get a large hot chocolate from seven eleven for two bucks, it tastes better, it's creamy, and i can flavour it up with creamers, make it really nice. and an optional donut add on deal is only twenty more cents. i wish i could tell starbucks that. but they can't afford to listen, or it's 'against their policy', or whatever stupid excuse. ignoring the fact that i could have a policy all my own.

which is why i need to start my own religion, but we'll get to that later. if i could be completely honest with you, there are a few things i desperately need, that would make my life so much better right now, and i would actually feel capable of succeeding, pulling this off, following my dreams, accomplishing and achieving my goals from step one. i just need a little help with that first step, and i promise you, i can take it from there. i have begged so many people, since i started traveling.

i started traveling in june of twenty fourteen, i had finally gotten free of the vortex prison that was my hometown. i will never ever go back there. that place destroyed everything it could, more than just my life. it is the definition of death on this planet, to me. toxic central point of all the hatred and animosity in this world, a cancerous clusterfuck of misery. and they wallow in it. especially my family. when i escaped that hell, i got flown up to spokane, washington. i left tucson on may thirty first. my mother would pass away exactly one year later. to the day. june first, twenty fourteen, was my first full day in spokane washington. the reason i was flown up there only took nine days to fall apart, thanks to the mother of my children, though she would blame me as always. so on the morning of june tenth, after just having overcome homelessness twice on my own, i found myself homeless in spokane. one evening, around the end of july, i stood over the spokane river, watching a sunset, myself among nature and only nature, silence, and had a revelation that took about an hour to fully bloom. and i realized... i no longer have any hands hanging onto my feet anymore. i'm free to go wherever i want. be whoever i want. i'm free. finally fucking free. after thirtyfive years wasted on other ungrateful people, i finally only have me. i was very glad to be alone, for the first time in my life, truly alone. no one else to bitch at me and blame me for shit. i'm fucking free.

so, standing there watching the sunset that evening, facing west from spokane (eastern washington), i decided i would rebuild my life in the big city, and pursue my talents finally. the end result of all of this, will be to get myself away from all people. i want to live in the woods with my children, and be left alone. i've never liked people, i've always been very antisocial, but coming from a family who's really good at talking to people... i got this. so i went to seattle. i got there on greyhound on august seventh. it would have been august first, six years after i lost my cat sputnik, but my bank loves to delay things and fuck my life up as much as they can every month, knowing i'm on disability. i wish i could sue bank of america, but poor people just don't matter to banks, we're irrelevant.

i want to design a little comic thing, of a guy getting raped in the ass, in the middle of the street, infront of a bank of america. next picture shows the bank of america employee zipping up and walking back into the bank. third picture shows an old lady asking the guy in the street, 'aren't you going to do something about that?', and the guy simply says 'he works for the bank'.

anyway, i don't want to ramble on too much, i want to try and stay focused, cause i do talk too much, and i apologize for it constantly, but there's my mornings for the time being. i will send this just to let you know i'm ready for the day. i'm up at starbucks on sunset and la brea, my phone is charging as i write this, and... sorry, i was just distracted by things i don't like to look at. or, i should say, things i don't like to have to look at while i'm homeless. if i'm too poor to partake in these luxuries, i would like to not see them, but it's forced on me, i have no choice. i think that's wrong, and i'll try to go into that more.

so here's the first bit. i'll be sending more later. thank you again for choosing the right homeless person to do this with. personally, i would not have chosen any other, especially if i were actually intending to pick their lives up off the street and hit the restart button. which i wish i could do. i wish i had the money, to drive down a street, find a homeless person, pick them and all their shit up, pack them in the car, take them to a motel, pay for the motel, pay for food and clothing and most importantly, some education, and try my hardest to not let them destroy this rebuild. to get them as far away from the drugs and alcohol as i can using inspiration, because i know no other way. i've kept myself away from alcohol and alcoholics and drugs and drug addicts my whole life, i'm managed to do this well so far, and i never intend to become one of them. i never intentionally destroyed my own life, though that's what 'they' would have you believe at all cost. it's always just me, it's always my fault, whatever goes wrong, it's always my fault, i'm the world's scapegoat, shovel your shit on me...

people will never understand, and i can prove that on a fucking bar napkin. they will never care.

thank you again, claudia. can't wait to see you. smooches and hugs. thank you!