Lundi le 1re Octobre 19.50 Après une marche au la frontière du Québec. C’était mon espoir que je traverserais la frontière et ne pas aurais pour jamais revenir. Cela ne devait pas être ce soir. Mais il y aura d’autres nuits, d’autres jours. Espoir… Espoir… Espoir. – Odd, but tonight it’s rather difficult to think in English. Odder yet? This is being pre-typed on the lap-top and the English is being corrected into French. Perhaps…? – Let us see… the day… Well? In the first place I was hoping to wake early enough to get some things accomplished round the house and then head out to do my-self in by actually getting my VT license. It was raining. It was rather dreary. I was rather so tired that I was actually rather quite weak. I kept falling back to sleep! And, as it turned out, I started to get my own affairs settled and the day ran quite away from me. Alas! But, on the brighter side of the shit-pile, it was Monday and that’s really no day to pay a business visit to the DMV in any town or state. So, I resigned to put that on the agenda for first thing tomorrow. (Hopefully, I’ll wake looking like some-one who isn’t about to try to over-throw the governments of the Free World. No doubt, they’ll want to take a lovely portrait! FML!) – Anyway, the day, as I say, slipped right away from me. But I did, once resigned to the fact that I wasn’t about to get anything out of the house accomplished, get MUCH MUSIC! FRENCH! ENGLISH… and Frenglish too! Much of the “old” stuff from my days of living in Montréal. Great holiday (vacation, respite) to travel back to better times, wonderful days, days of Love and Peace and Life. – For the past few days, my stomach has been out of function along with most of my regular body functions, including the brain. Just the thought of putting food into this body makes me violently ill. Yet, because of not eating, it becomes increasingly difficult to simply move about. I wonder, sometimes, if everything isn’t just shutting down. There are times when that’s what it feels like. Moments when my head feels as if it’s been removed from the rest of my body, when the entire room starts to become devoid of oxygen. Anxiety? Could be. Might be. Or… But what-ever it may or may not be, it’s really, in the greater scheme of all things, unimportant. We just toddle along. Toddle, toddle, toddle. – (23.00 and later again, than I wanted to be awake. But I want to get a couple of things down here tonight before going to bed. I’m already a day off… having journalled nothing for yesterday.) – Of course, we couldn’t just have a nice, calm, quiet day for the duration. It was good to Silas this evening. Truly. In spite of the fact that our argument of the other evening still lingers inside (me… and I’m sure inside him as well… we’re similar in many ways and I’m certain that is one of them). I still have, on the top of my mind, the fact that he is capable of going off for something or another and I’ll be the recipient of yet another “30-day Notice”. This is no longer my “Home” and from now on, never will be. But for the moments, as they happen, I live as if… But I digress… – The plan was that I would take a walk down to the market to get some food (for both of us) this evening. As I got things tidied here, ready to shower and leave, I made the dread error of checking my little twit page and there, for the entire world to read and witness? Tid-bits of the events of recent days here! Not-with-standing nor to mention, the fact that my e-mails requesting ONLY INTERVENTION were “shared” (a term that makes my very cellular structure quiver in disgust) AND REFERRED TO! WELL! OK. No sense in letting that destroy the other-wise calm day. I headed down-stairs to throw together a bit of corn chowder, something to put into an other-wise empty stomach (and body). SB and I met in the kitchen (and in a house of this size, that’s exactly how it is: we “meet” in the kitchen… at times. It’s like living in a Central Station here). Ah, we chatted, we schmoozed, we talked. We discussed issues, local news, and general “kitchen talk” in the great no-where we call… well… HE calls “home” and I call “residence”. And then? He mentioned, only in passing, with a general comment, the messages sent, the phone conversation, and such that he’d had with PJ. My guts wrenched, my head imploded. The corn chowder went into the garbage, the dishes got washed and all I could get out of my mouth when he asked what was wrong was “You have nothing to do with this. This has nothing to do with you. Truly.” and I calmly headed up the stairs to get ready to shower and get as far away from this house as I possibly could before saying anything that would spark any kind of misunderstanding between us. It was a good day and this was NOT going to disturb that! I showered. – On my way out, he asked where I was going and if I’d like company. I wasn’t in the mood but thought it couldn’t hurt. Besides, this was the first time he’d asked if he could accompany me some-where. It might have done some good to walk and talk. But at the last moment, he rescinded and I understood (and was relieved). He bade me a good walk. All I could think of is: If I don’t come back, it will be… If I do come back, it will have failed. And so, I headed for the border with nothing more than the papers to get me across. – As I walked up through this little town, I couldn’t help but be amazed. Out here, up here, away from so much of the rest of the world. So far away from all the common bull-shit that is “the world”. Few houses. Very few businesses. But rolling corn fields, stretching off into meadows that lead off and up to hills (that the locals call “mountains”). The sky was over-cast, it was just getting to be sun-set. It was calm. I was listening to my music and the world was gone. I thought. I just thought as I walked. I looked at the neat houses, Victorian, mostly, built apart from each-other. How calm and invitingly peaceful they looked. I wondered about the problemmes the owners and inhabitants must have. Unemployment being so sickeningly high in this State, in this area. How do they do it? And there are generations of people who have called this place “Home”. They stay. They fight the elements. They survive. They’re stoic. They talk about things. They solve problemmes. They drink. But they get through… generation after generation. In one way, these are the people I’ve come from: Farmers on both sides of the parental gene contribution. People who escaped death, Europe, war. People who struggled, fought not only financial onslaught, but the very elements of Nature: snow, ice, heat, rains. I know I can, but I’m not with the same kind of people these days. And I’m much older than I was… and feeling terribly older these days, what, with all the barrages of brutality. I’m tired… very tired. And, in a great many respects… alone. That should come as nothing of import. I should be accustomed to that, but for some reason, right now? It’s uncomfortable. Unexpected. – The walk was magnificent! There is a beautiful old tree on the side of the road. It’s huge. It’s old. It’s stately. It’s survived, alone, there are no other trees around it. It’s fully exposed to the winds and rains, snows, ice. But it’s THERE! ALONE! I thought “We’re not very much different from each-other.” I admired the tree. I kept walking toward the little buildings of the border, not sure what I’d do when I got there. – Then, there it was, the border. I decided to simply go, ask if it’s possible to walk across. I approached the office and before I could get to the door, a man emerged from the glass box, rapidly! He asked if he could help me. I told him that I was curious to know if it would be possible to simply walk across. He assured me that, if I had all the necessary documentation, I certainly could. I thanked him. It was getting rather dark at this point so I decided it would be better to come back another time, when it wouldn’t look so damned silly… walking up the road, at night. After all, these people are convinced that on the other side of that stupid little imaginary line exists a world of evil things and the only reason a person would want to cross is for evil purposes… especially at night… especially since the nearest (to my knowledge) business is about 20km away. Yes, I could walk there and back in good time. Still, I’d be coming back (sadly) in the dark. So… I simply walked back down the road, past the corn, and back into this town that I happen to love and hate simultaneously. And I continued listening to the music of the place on the other side of that border… the place my Soul calls “HOME”. I was OK. And I was calmer. I can get “HOME” at any time I want from here. And one day… probably soon… I shall. – When I got back to the house, I sat, for a while, on the porch, listened to my music and relaxed. – Inside, I came up to “my” room, undetected… for a while. Then came the knock on the door. SB was all but in tears. He grabbed and hugged me. He’d convinced him-self that I’d gone “HOME” to stay. It hurt him. As he said when we went back down to the kitchen “At first I thought I should follow you and tell you that nothing is worth that. Then I thought: ‘He’s an intelligent man who knows what he’s doing and if that is his decision, I know he’s given it all a lot of thought.’ I respect you for that. And I’ve seen the shit you’ve been handling lately. I couldn’t stop you. I just couldn’t.” (I respect him more tonight for that than ever before!) We talked about what hit me this time and why it hit me so hard. To think that my personal business is now a matter of world access! To think that the person I turned to, the one who offered to help, ignore the simple request I’d made and took it not only to lengths it had no business being in but managed to splash it all over the world! Twits Galore! Yes, SB understood. That was comforting. And it was good to let him know that he had nothing to do with any of it. UNFORTUNATELY, he’d turned to PJ and made a phone call! FukME! FukALL! I checked the Twits to see if it all had made it GLOBALLY as yet. Thankfully, not. (But now, at 23.49 I still wait… it’ll come. I have faith in that.) We talked about Internet and social media. It’s nice… his knowledge is limited to an extent, but he’s familiar with a lot. It was good talking with somebody who understood. – We went down to his room for a few hours to discuss the current situation. We looked at some silly videos. And it grew later in the night. Time for both of us to get some sleep for the coming day. (Of course, I hope HE gets more than I will…). – And now, it’s going for mid-night (again) and here I sit. My body feels as if it’s been trashed by huge, solid steel spheres. My eyes aren’t focusing, even with glasses, these days. When I finally lay down, I can actually feel the skin cells bouncing about. It’s as if I can feel the little atoms buzzing about. It’s been as if I can feel the degeneration of some cells and the replacements coming into being. I can feel hair growth. And it continues on into the night. On… and on and on and on… into the night… and through the day. – October is here. The 24th will be the 1st year in VT. I WILL FIGHT FOR THIS! I’M TOO CLOSE… TOO TOO TOO CLOSE… TO HOME!!! I WILL NOT GO BACK! Either I’ll make the move, the RETURN, to LIVE there until… or… I’ll go HOME to sleep. BUT… I WILL N.O.T. ASK FOR ANY KIND OF “HELP” AGAIN! THAT option is now… DEAD!

Tue.2.Oct: 2.12 THIS is NOT what I wanted for this night. I wanted to be asleep… for many hours… by now. But it seems that I can’t. I can’t sleep. I just can’t. Yes, I’m exhausted. But the thought of being under the covers, head on pillow actually made my stomach turn and my eyes burns, head throb. The worst part? This room is beginning to stink of cigarettes! Not surprising: I’m up to about a pack and a half per day now… and that’s even when I’m working 12 hours and can’t just light-up. I’m fully aware (obviously) of what’s going on here. The horrible part about it all is that I just can’t fight it off! No matter what I do, it won’t stop. All those years, YEARS of studying all that Psychology… I KNOW what’s going on and I KNOW the physics… but there’s just no stopping it any more. Oddly, most of what’s wrong here is the fact that I just don’t want to even think about losing this place. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to HAVE to leave. I just don’t want to leave. I’m actually quite Happy, and maybe even “Content” here. Being up here is what I’ve actually yearned for, for SO many years. I remember the nights, 1.126,540km away from here, sitting in a flat, crying, longing to be here… in this place that I didn’t even know existed but knew I could get to. And here I am. It all seems like it’s about to slip right away now. Painfully. And there’s the anger, the bitterness… It’s all very dark. – I have to be awake and on the road in only about 4,5 hours. Then, I have to figure how to get to BTV… Court. Traffic ticket. “Traffic ticket”! I’ve NEVER had one in all the years I’ve been driving… all the MILES I’ve driven! NEVER! It’s not the appearance that bothers me. It’s the fact that I have a ticket! – Then, after the court, I have to take the bus back, and go to work… the first of 3 consecutive 12-hour over-night shifts. And I can’t sleep during the day before going to work. Essentially… 29 hours with-out sleep… and no appetite. Well… OK then. It MUST be done… and it WILL be done. For now? I think I need to just lie down, try for a nap. There’s a 48km (96km round trip) drive coming in a few hours… and that’s killing me: I HAVE to get a VT driver’s license… meaning… my NY license becomes nul and void. For some reason, when I first got here, I wanted to change the license immediately. Now, a year later… not so much at all. OH! – I’m going to lie down and hope I wake on time… in about 3 hours. – In a move of Esperance, tonight I changed the BTV on my Twitaccount to QUE. I’m close enough. I’ll be closer. Maybe by getting rid of the BTV references, things, and my attitude will improve. I won’t know until I try… I’m trying. – 8.01 And so there little Bobby, what exciting thing did YOU do with your day? Well sir? I woke up. – 19.59 Today, I am licensed to operate a motor vehicle in this glorious state. Best news: it didn’t cost me all that I’d expected! OK. So, there’s more good news: I was out of here, there, and back in 3 hours… and I had to drive 103km AND get the license! How about THAT? Yup. The drive? SO ALONE… and yet, in spite of the fact that the bottom of the car is about to completely collapse, the wheels are about to simply POP off, and the engine sounds as if the head gasket is about to explode into nothing more than a cloud of filthy, black smoke, I’ve not been THAT relaxed and at ease in I can’t remember when. It was so peaceful and SO beautiful! Truly. It was like driving in a calendar picture of the state. The colours! The foliage! The peace. The serenity. It was all there. But even better because it wasn’t just a photo. This was REAL! AND I DROVE THROUGH N.TROY! My telephone number is up there and I’ve been wondering what it looks like. Well, there I was today. That was rather exiting. The town is so small, just like the pictures one sees on post cards and calendars. The most prominent building is the church… true. The streets are small. The houses, for the most part, are amazingly Victorian and HUGE! But there aren’t very many of them at all. I fell in love with the place. Another interesting item: it, and Nwprt are on the other side of the mountain range and I knew I was traversing a mountain as I drove: UP hill for the longest while, getting to the summit and back DOWN for the longest while. When I got into town, I knew exactly where I had to go some-how and yes, there it was… the building… on the lake. The town of Nwprt is MAGNIFICENT! There’s no way on earth that anyone could NOT just fall completely in love with it: clean, neat, tidy, just wonderful. It was a most delightful experience. In one respect, I’m sorry that I didn’t make the trip before. In another respect, it made today’s heart-ache (relinquishing my NY license for a VT license) all worth the while. – In the DMV, I was the only one there for quite a while. I got to the desk, told the nice man there what I needed. “You’ll have to take a ticket.” he instructed. So, I pushed the button on the machine, got my ticket and looked up to the light-board. As I pulled the ticket, my number came up and the fellow opened a window. (I really was rather silly… almost like a Monty Python skit.) I strolled to the window, gave him my papers, completed. He had no idea what the affidavit was for… never seen one. (It was to say that I had a license in another state but didn’t have the actual document with me… I SAVED my NY license that way. It’s now invalid, but I have it!) It caused just a bit of confusion, but that got remedied quickly. Next thing, I’m taking the eye test (which I almost failed… that causes me GREAT concern… I know why my eyes are no good… malnutrition and fatigue… I told him that I’d been pulling 12-hour shifts of late… I think he understood). “Please have a seat right there.” he pointed to a little chair against a wall. FLASH! My new photo was taken. In the time it took me to stand and get back to the counter, my license was DONE! He handed it to me and said “There you are.” I actually walked out of the office with my license in my hand! (The picture, by the way, shows a LOT of fatigue and aging! I look like year-old manure! But then, that’s how I feel these days, so why not?) All told, with-in just over an hour or so, I’d driven there, filed my papers, gotten my license and was back in the car an on my way back to Rchfrd. A.Mazing! – On the route back, I stopped at some little “Gift” place, to browse and to get a souvenir of the day’s fact that I’d finally made it to the NEK! It was a bit disappointing, but still… as I got to the door of the store, a man came from no-where. “Hi! May I help you?” I told him I just wanted to go in and browse, maybe pick something up. “He’s right across the street. He’ll be with you in a couple minutes. But you can go in.” The owner was, indeed, across the street. And why not? There really wasn’t any reason to be in the store. It’s a week-day, no traffic (as a matter of fact, for MOST of the trip, I was the only one on the road there and back), no tourists. So I went inside to meander about the aisles. As it turned out, I got a couple of things (one for Nancy who is very much on my mind at all times here), and silly, little things for Silas (just because). Yes, I got a “Euro” sticker for me: “Red NEK”. Cute. Not what I’d hoped for, but still… and I was (sadly) on my way back to Rchfrd. – I’m in LOVE with NEK! Let’s just leave it at that. Given a good vehicle and an income, I’m out there ASAP. If I have to be on THIS side of the US/CDA border and in this state, THAT is where I WANT to be! (Alone.) – Almost forgot to mention: The road out of Rchfrd runs along the river for a while, before climbing into the hills. THAT alone, is a delight. And to think, it’s SO close and such a beautiful refuge. I’ll be spending some more time over there… and not in the car. – When I got back, SB was in, and… of course… on the computer. Yes, the kitchen is a mess. But you know? I don’t care any more. I just don’t. I was hungry… I WAS HUNGRY! 4 eggs with cheese which I had up in my room. It was ever so nice to eat. And I kept looking at my license… almost in disbelief. (It hurts a bit, but in another way, it made me think, as I drove, a licensed driver in the state of VT… THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE CHANGE. NOTHING WILL BE GOING WRONG FROM NOW ON.) I dropped the 2 little items off to him, almost not disturbing his communications on the computer. When he asked what they were I simply said “From the NEK. Oh, I’m moving!” “To where?” “The NEK.” “When?” “Just as soon as I go to the bath-room.” (If I could have done, it would have been done.) That was the extent of communication between us today. But I don’t care. I just don’t. And the room… and the HOUSE simply REEK,REEK,REEK of smoke from him burning MOUNDS of sage! It’s permeated almost every inch of this place and it’s gotten to the point where it’s just disgusting! – I ate, brought my dishes down to the kitchen and put them in the sink… and did NOT wash them. In fact, I think I even left the egg-shells on the counter. Oh well. So I did. Imagine that. – I needed a few things at the market and because it was raining, I actually DROVE down the hill. Horrible news: our local market is closing! Not sure when, but that means that the only places we’ll have for real marketing now are either 16km to the south at the Hannaford’s or 13km to the North in Québec at the IGA. (But I can’t use food stamps at the IGA so it’s going to be rather inconvenient no matter what… DRIVING! And there’s no telling when the car will explode or fall apart or will be taken… which-ever comes first.) I did realise why the market probably isn’t doing such a good business: their prices are ridiculous for this town! Best way to describe it? Silas shops there regularly. That means “WAY OVER-priced”. Well, I got only a very few items that I wanted right at the moment. I’ll make the trip into the other market tomorrow… I have to go into Ensburg library to print a few things anyway and the market is en route. – Got back and ate some breakfast cereal… that’s all I really wanted. But imagine this: I’m eating… I have appetite! Little things in life can be so precious. – Having eaten, I was almost painfully dead tired. I’ve just gotten up from a tasteful 30 minute nap… and will be back in the bed, for the night, in short order. – In other news… my 12-hour shift got shifted to 19-7.00. Still the same length, just an hour earlier. I don’t know how that’s going to play out on Thursday when I have to be on the 7.30 bus into BTV, will take the 16.40 bus back to St.A. and have to be at work at 19.00. There won’t be enough time to come to the house in between but there’ll be too much time to just sit and do nothing. Well, at least I’m used to sleeping/resting in the car. All I’ll need to do is figure out where. And then… I’ll be awake until 8.00 on Friday morning (out of work at 7.00 and in bed by 8.00) which will mean: Awake at 4.00 on Thursday morning through 8.00 on Friday morning… no naps (save maybe on the bus)… 28 hours straight through. Then back to work at 19.00 on Friday and Saturday. OK! Now somebody tell me that I’m not trying to make all this work. OK? Thankfully these are week days when SB will be at work. How-ever, of late, the landlord has been coming to do all sorts of “work” on the house to Winterise… and he gets here at about 9am! (Is it any wonder I like NEK?) Well, there’s really not much that can be done about it all now. – 20.44 Hillary has been here a while, I could hear her and SB chatting down-stairs. And the stomping across the floors down-stairs. Neither one of them Buddhists is really considerate… they’re more considerate of insects than other humans. And just now, I hear the stomping from the bed-room to the kitchen and back and the slamming of the pocket-doors to his room. Perhaps he’s upset because I didn’t do my dishes? Do I care? Kriste! I hope he gets his medications tomorrow! He’s supposed to be taking them and doesn’t. It shows. – And, since he went running, in anger and fits, to Hillary when we had the blow-up over the income situation and told her something that actually got her to SCREAMING (I could hear the screaming quite loudly through the walls), I wonder what he’s told her since and what she thinks of me now. Truly, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. (I’m saying that a lot tonight.) – I have to remember to check the oil tank tomorrow… the heat is up now. Gee… I wonder why. Chilly and damp? Hmmmm…. Oh well… I don’t care. – Time to get to bed. Nothing on the agenda for tomorrow, but I don’t want to waste the day! – Good-night.
(*These are not photos that I took today but they are exactly what today looked like as I saw…)

(A quick closing note: Through the wall, I can hear Hillary hacking. She’s been ill more than healthy since we arrived here. Silas keeps company with her, in his room, with the doors closed and the heater on and wonders why he’s feeling like shit? Some people just aren’t people when it comes to thinking.)

Wed.3Oct.: 20.44 How sadly strange… my words to Silas seem to be stuck, as a mantra, in my mind: I’ll be out of your way ASAP. They resonate in my skull. They echo. And my entire being is set in motion to be… out of his way ASAP. – It was an oddly productive sort of day. For the most part, I managed to get quite a bit of on-line business accomplished. Then, as the day rolled away, I bolted to get to the library in Ensbrg to get a lot… A LOT of printing done. 3,00$ worth, at 10 cents per page. There are the reviews of the motel that I want to preserve, as well as my work calendar for the month (leaving me with almost NO time for any rest but it’s income… sorely needed income), and a “Lease Agreement” of 7 pages (10pt font). I INSIST that I have one now! Breakable, of course, but still… something that SHOULD have been done a month ago… when Silas decided my name would NOT be on THE LEASE. – OK then… it was then off to the market to get enough food to keep me moving and appearing alive for the next few days. Tomorrow morning will begin about 28 hours of no sleep, no stopping, no rest. Food is essential. I’d promised Silas that I would get cheese cake (a la Golden Girls) to sit and have at the kitchen table. Well, we don’t have chairs, we do have a table, we do have a cheese cake. I am a man of my word. The cheese cake is now in the fridge… it hasn’t been touched. No time tonight. – When I got in after my errands, SB comes in… in a foul mood because they’re giving him more responsibilities at work. Hey! A bit of job security in a place where he’s worried they’ll boot him in a while. But he doesn’t see it that way and… I take the brunt. When I said that I was exhausted, he commented about having the past few days off. I said that I thought it appeared that way to others: nothing to do but lounge about for days on end. He yelled… YELLED “I’m walking around here on egg shells with you!” And stormed off, gathering his laundry, throwing it into the machine and storming out the door… of course… to Hillary. I quietly replied “I’m doing the best I can.” Then, off in the car. Me? I continued making my lunches (meals) for the next 2 days. I don’t care. (I say that a lot of late.) – When he returned, I made like nothing happened and we got into a conversation about the NEK. (Indeed, that’s where I want to go… soon.) The mood in the house lightened and the conversation became more friendly. Too bad that I do mean that I’m doing the best that I can… to get out of his house, out of his way… soon. He then said “I don’t know how you’re doing this. I mean, it does look like you have a lot of time off, but it’s the days when you don’t. I could never do it. It’s like you’re trying to kill yourself with this work.” (Yes, I am… It’s called “ethics”… die working.) I brushed it all off. It’s none of his business. What is his business is that he get his money when he needs it and when I owe it. Period. It’s most of the reason why I spend so much time in my own little room up here, alone, away. When I leave, the house will be no different… but the residents here-in will be. Not my concern. I don’t care. – Putting his laundry in the machine threw my night off. I’d hoped to get it done by 18.00 or so. But even as I type this, (21.01) it’s still in the dryer. – Anyway, as we talked, Hillary came to the door. She wanted butter. For quite a while, when we moved in, the cup-boards and the fridge held quite a bit. It’s dwindled quite rapidly of late… Explained. The butter went out with Hillary… who, by the way, greeted me in a “force” but polite manner. If I cared, I’d wonder what’s been said to her… about me. It doesn’t matter. Not at all. I’ll be out of HER way ASAP as well. I’d like it if they can spend their Winter together, feeding off each-other. – And in other news, there isn’t any. I’m hoping to wake, refreshed, in the morning and that the car makes the trip to the bus. I’m hoping that court (traffic… minor this time) will be prompt and well. I see no reason for it to go other-wise. I’m not looking forward to being stranded in BTV until 17.00 waiting for the first evening bus to leave to bring me back out of that Hell-Hole. But that’s how it will be. I’ll entertain me some-how. I am looking forward to work tomorrow evening. Not looking forward to trying to stay awake through the night though. But I’ll be back by about 8.00 on Friday… LET’S HOPE THAT NOBODY HAS ANY WORK TO BE DONE ROUND THE HOUSE ON FRIDAY MORNING! Then, back to work for another 12-hour shift on Friday night. Another on Saturday night. We do what we must for as long as we must and then, one way or another, we stop. One way or another. – Twtr msg fm Nancy tonight hoping she said nothing inappropriate on Twtr. Tabarnak de câlisse! Now this thing has her feeling uncomfortable! I’ve hear nothing from PJ since. I’m rather relieved. I’m in no mood right now. But it angers me that Nancy should have to get involved in it all. From the very beginning she’s been a Joy. Her support, even with her kind words and encouragement have gotten me to where I am today (the good place). It annoys me that she should feel any discomfort. I’ll hope that she lets it go. She’s a Friend. – Time to get the laundry and then get me to sleep.

Thu.4.Oct; 13.50 FltchrFrLib (since about 10.00). NIGHT SWEATS! REALLY HEAVY! Woke me at about 3.30 (I got to bed at 22.30 last night). I managed to get comfortable and fall back to sleep until about 4.40 and then woke… for the day… the next 2, almost. Had my smoke, really didn’t want coffee (now I know something’s dead wrong). Just went through the motions of moving forward. Shave, shower, no shit. – Left the lap-top and a copy of the LeaseAgreement on the chair down-stairs. Up-stairs, the bleach and ammonia to clear the air in the room. And, by about 6.30, I was out into the hazy, warm, damp, dark. – The trip to St.A. zipped right along. I had time to have a smoke before boarding the bus (on which I snoozed all the way to town). – Made it to the court house in plenty of time BUT… in my delerium, I forgot to take the BDM from my back-psck! Glass jar! The nice gentlemen “held” it for me whilst I attended courtly affairs. (Yes… I got it back and it’s with me now… Whew!) – In the court room, the officer who issued the ticket was there (SO ATTRACTIVE… I’d almost forgotten). ANYway, he called me to the hall and when we got there he said “OK let’s see it.” (Yes, I did think about it but then thought again and didn’t). He said he’d dismiss it. I wanted to… well… I said “Thank you!” 15 minutes in the court-room… done. – I was relieved and yet, not. I’m in BTV, no car, nothing pressing to do, no money, and the very next bus out isn’t until 17.00… it was only 10.00! I dropped by the atty’s office tp inquire about copies and stuff. No atty; no investigaor. Everybody out for the week. Well, OK. I was out of there by about 10.30 and headed here. Have looked into the Statutes… leases, larcenies, autos and embezzlement. Not guilty yeronner. OK! And that took
about 3 hours or so. But it was good time spent. A quick post e-mail to Silas to CLARIFY the Lease Agreement, lest he becomes angry for some stupidity (or seeds of un-rest planted by… ). Bloodyfuk fukking shame that I feel the need to be SO careful about anything and everything! ( Oops! I just dozed and wrote “I’m just trulamazon” Have no idea what that was all about.) But I do… Yesterday, Silas snapped at me that HE’S walking on egg shells because he’s afraid of upsetting me. Well… I’m sitting here in the library, the rain is pouring down and right now… it’s no different from being Homeless… and Homeless is what I could be since he’s the only name on the lease (He’s also on meds and non-compliant) and tends toward tantrum-throwing. Well, I’ll clear my bits o’ trial up and focus, quite sincerely on moving along. I’m just TOO old to be taking care of his mother’s children. – Well here’s to another all-nighter. It’s 14.47! 2 more hours before the bus out. – I just glanced at the notes I took this morning… My eyes are so bad these days that it looks like Hindi or … ! The eyes are deteriorating quickly of late. 60 years approaches… and I’m beyond my sell-by date. – 21.10 At work. Well! 17 hours down… 11 hours to go. Past the half-way point. Doing OK, so far. I dozed on the bus back. It helped… a tiuch. – Bad news: The PO has cut SB’s hours… he’s not scheduled for ANY time next week! Yes, they’re a bunch of pricks. Yes, I remember it happening to me. Yes, they’re amongst the worst employers because there’s almost NO humanity to any of them. And yes, this is going to take a very hard toll onboth of us. I’m not so much concerned about the financial blow as I am about how he’s going to react… and the fact that he’s not very motivated when it comes to looking for work. (I got him this job by pushing him… whilst his “parents” whined and bemoaned his unemployment situation. Like-wise, when I suggested going on-line to look for other PO’s in the area where he might be able to get more hours, his reply was “I’ll do it on Tuesday because Monday is a holiday.” Right. Don’t do dishes, don’t clean the stove or counter-tops when you cook, leave the recyclables out of the bin, garbage on the porch, tell me of robberies in town but don’t lock the door, bitch about the electric bill but thwart my efforts to get oil whilst running the electric heater in the room and let’s leave the stove light on and the porch light too and let’s do it all night, let’s play computer games, visit with Hillary, have tea… Meanwhile, because of his tantrum of late, his useless mother(s) think ME a prick and Hillary thinks ME an old bastard-ogre. Ah… WTF? Really. Nobody sees what goes on in this house, nobody cares, and, aside from the un-necessary tension that I don’t need? I don’t give a fuk. Hey! I could have done the sensible thing and taken tonight off instead of pulling 28 sleepless, restless hours. I’m bloody 57 years old and he’s 32! OK. And I digress. The point is: I DREAD where HIS little misfortune will lead in terms of his coping abilities. And I know that *I* will bear the full brunt… ALONE… very much alone. And I don’t want to and I don’t care to. (Thank goodness for this Journal where I can get this out of my system and not have to say this to him.) – Anyway, I came in at 18.30, a half hour off the clock, to help me stay awake. Mme. is fidgeting. It had better not be an impossible night! And I’ve begun night-shift-compulsive eating. Now, I want a break… smoke
(That’s where the entry ends…)

Fri.5.Oct: 24.09 I can’t believe that I’m still awake… from 4.00 on Thursday morning, with only 2,5 hours sleep since then. I can’t believe that I’m not actually ready to get into bed and die! But here I am… typing. But let me get right to the date’s events and then get the hell under the covers as the rains fall. Hopefully 7 hours’ sleep will be more than enough. Tomorrow (Saturday) will be another full day and a night shift. – So… notes from the Pod as I worked:”Fri.5.Oct; 1.15 And hour 21… 7 hours more to go. Nauseated. Stomach churning. But… my driving history remains clean and I have a clear record on a new license in a new state. The fresh beginning. I’m relieved. – The staff tonight is very supportive. It helps to have the understanding and respect and support. – When I went out for my break I thought: Doug abandoned the car, dumped it on me and charged me for the privilege. Did none of what he promised to make it road-worthy and it cost me 100$ because I couldn’t get it inspected. Because of the inspection, I got the ticket for my license and that caused me to have to pull these 28 hours and the bus fare and bus trip into BTV. Every time I get into the car I expect it to explode or for the wheels to pop off. The oil needs changing. I can’t get the plug off because it’s on so tightly. Doug had said as much and promised to have that corrected as well. Maybe the car us the centre of the negative energy that seems to surround me. – Meanwhile, SB is ticked, blaming the PO for his current woes. Not thinking of his many long trips from SoBur to Plttsbrg, to HydePk, to Johnson… pissing away 40, 50, 60$ on some little tramp. Not thinking of how much he’d pissed away on this Hillary in whom he now confides. And now he tells me that he’s got yet, another so-called “friend” to whom he wants to rent the spare room… another of ‘his ladies’. Truth is, he’s not renting to help with rent, it’s to pay his credit cards. Me? I’m out… asap. – Mme has been agitated all night. Fortunately, I’m too tired to be annoyed. –“ – And so, I actually managed to stay awake for most of the night. Mme. went to sleep at about 1.00 or so and that’s when keeping me awake became a bit difficult. I did get about 45mins sleep. Amanda caught me at one point and knocked on the door to wake me (only because somebody was paying attention and she didn’t want me to get in to trouble. She’s wonderfully respectful and sweet that way). By 7.00 though, for some reason, I was wide awake and ready to take on another day. The drive went really well… no blurry vision or burning eyes. Although, this morning before I left, I was, oddly, constipated so badly that I passed “frank blood” when I tried to “go”. And, it was quite painful. But I said nothing and I still say nothing. – When I got to the house, SB was in the shower and the door was bolted locked… My key doesn’t work in the bolt. Hillary came by en route to work and when I said that I’d been locked out? “Bummer. He’s in the shower. I heard the water.” So kind. I rang his phone, left a message. Why? I don’t know. I just did. Imagine… 28 hours away from the house, and at 7.40, locked out. OK. So began the day. But it was remedied quickly and I was in… We had a quick chat and he was off and I was alone… alone to… clean the house. Dishes in the sink, on the drain board. I put them all into the dish-washer this morning and gave it a run. While waiting, I swept the floors down-stairs, put the dishes up and came up-stairs. What I did for the rest of the morning, I can’t seem to recall. But as the day progressed, I actually did get a nap in at about 10.30… 30-some hours with-out sleep and I take 2,5 for a nap… and then… baked. Banana bread. – SB came in exhausted. The job is getting on his nerves because they’re cutting his hours down… drastically! He’s worried sick over it. I made many suggestions, he says he’s paying attention to them all and will be acting on them… I’m not waiting. Time will tell all. Meanwhile, the banana bread came out very well and we actually DID have wonderful chat. It was pleasant, enjoyable. – For the rest of the day and in to the evening, I got more music on the iPod, including some old Israeli music, and images for the songs. – (7.38 on 6.Oct) I really can’t (and won’t) complain about anything yesterday. SB’s under a LOT of stress these days. The job is being exactly who and what they are, and have cut his hours drastically. He’s in a nose-dive over it, and I’m trying to (yes, I’m being the Parent again) at least help, by being the “Voice of Reason and Direction” (I’ll never learn). He came here with very high expectations of independence and, in his own way, I suppose, being the Sovereign. Even as he said last night, as we spoke: When we were in the planning stages of this move, I was expecting to get into the Phlebotomy classes. They were to be full-time and non-paying. I wouldn’t have time, nor energy, to take even a part-time job and that was for an 8-week period. At that time, he was making great money and I was on the verge of a break-down from sleeping in the car and having to deal not only with trying to keep Fran’s house together but with her damned daughter-in-law and grand-brat as well. “You’ll have a place to get proper sleep, and a place where you can study. And don’t worry about covering the rent for those 8 weeks. With my income, I’ll be able to carry it.” It made him feel good, being able to say that. And, even as he said last night, he meant every bit of it. Well, it didn’t quite turn out that way and it’s a grand disappointment to him. He didn’t see it coming. Last night I learnt that he came from a place in Cal. where he was one of several renters in a larger place. Part of his dream here was to be “THE” renter. He got that much out of this, but it isn’t as simple as he’d hoped and planned. That too, is a blow to the Ego… and I’m learning that his Ego is quite large and quite fragile (ah… reminders of my term paper in university: the comparison of male v. female Ego and the malleability of one and the fragility of the other… still holds true). There are many factors involved in this, going back to youth and child-hood. Even as I cleaned this morning I thought: much of the trouble today is due, in great part, to poor parenting. He dutifully defends his mother, whom, truly, gave him not one iota of preparation for the real world, and his father who really wasn’t there for him when it was necessary. Isn’t it rather odd how, having him in my life now strengthens my appreciation and Love for my own Mum? Indeed, being put in a position of being the “Man of the house” at the age of 13 wasn’t societally correct. But it certainly gave me abilities I’ve needed through the rest of my life, especially today. Having an abusive drunkard father about somehow gave me the strength to handle a lot of situations where-by it’s been me, alone, having to face tough times and adversaries. As I said to Mum, as she lay dying in Buffalo: “Are we perfect? No, by no means. But you did a damned great job at preparing us for what the world has to throw at us (her children) and though we might not be perfect, we’re pretty damned good at defending our-selves when necessary… and we succeed, and we survive. We’re good.” Today, these days, I get to see what happens when parents just toss their children to the side. It’s rather hurtful to see an adult man teeter on the brink over things that are, in the greater scheme of things, minute. Well, even he, SB, has said that there’s a reason why the 2 of us happened to meet. I’m imagining that I’m here to provide what it is that I can… it certainly isn’t financial, but maybe, just maybe, it’ll be for something more permanent for him. After all, a little, forgotten fact: He got this job when he had no prospects, and he got a better-paying job than I, because I encouraged and forced him to go for it when he was rather slacking. He had his family to lean on and support him. I pushed a bit and… for a while, he was doing very well. So well, in fact, that he could afford to run the roads, eat at little restaurants and such and continue to impress his little band of so-called “friends”. He had the opportunity to yell and throw a tantrum at me when I fell into a bit of a glitch. As I eat peanut-butter & crème cheese sandwiches, he was still running to the local Chinese. While I’m making curtains out of 1,99$ bed-sheets from the Goodwill, he’s off to the Home Depot for 200$ rugs. As many (and not all) of us learn, if we’re bright enough to do so: Life is can be a miserable knife in the back. Hopefully, from these tougher times, the little feller will learn that “Humility” is one of the greatest attributes a person can possess, because the time will come when that will be your sole means of survival, and it certainly isn’t a weakness, rather, it can be the Greatest Strength. – Tougher times are coming and he’s no more prepared for any of them than a freshly-hatched little bird. He reminds me of my trips across Jamaica Bay, through the sanctuary: In Spring I used to watch the little seagulls, coming into the world in open nests, laying on the ground. No roof, nor walls, just a little bed of twigs and such. Late snows would fall, followed by cold rains and winds. The parents would be off in search of food for them, and the elements would beat against the little, almost abandoned bodies. I thought it cruel. But later on, those little ones were out there on the beaches, fending for themselves, and surviving. Right now, my little seagull is learning that his nest really isn’t the Haven he’d hoped for. And, as my Mum, of truly blessed memory, sternly told me, MANY years ago: “Life… is NOT ‘fair’.” These are the tough times. I wonder where my own “parental” instincts come from and why I’ve not learnt to simply mind my own business. I have matters of my own (even last night, again, SB said “It’s not fair of me, throwing my troubles at you like this. You’re being CRUSHED right now with all that you’re going through and you shouldn’t have to even know about my troubles.”), but the years of age difference and experience come into play and, like a parent, I try with my “all” to cushion somebody less fortunate and less-prepared against the onslaught he’s facing. I wonder why, and I wonder IF this is what I’m supposed to be doing… and I wonder… why. The “why” isn’t important though. It’s the “doing” that matters. – All the while I think of this I can’t help but realise that the talk about me, coming even from the person I’m trying to protect and help has, in all likelihood been terribly detrimental. I’m certain that there have been nasty things said about me, to his Mum, to Hillary, and to God-only-knows who else. I’m certain (beyond simply “sure”) that conversations have been held where-in I’ve been smeared all over the place. But, when all is said and done and the days come to a close, it doesn’t matter. Those other folks have no idea who or what I am, no clue as to what I’ve been through, where I’ve come from, what I’ve handled and dealt with. And, even more-so, they never will know. But, and this is something I hope SB learns, if nothing else: THEY don’t matter because, although I’m not exactly approving of what my Life is or how it’s running right now, at day’s end, when the world is dark and I put my head on my pillow, I know, deep inside, that I’ve used the day to the best of my abilities and capabilities, and, in some, maybe tiny way, I’ve made a good difference on and in somebody else’s life. Some minute thing has helped somebody make it through their day a little easier. And, in that respect, I can rest, to get ready for the next day when I’ll do the same thing. – Speaking of “rest”, I still amaze me that I managed to get through 44 hours on only 2,5 hours of “rest” and that included a 12-hours shift of over-night work, cleaning the house, baking, and being supportive. MY MOMMY WAS A SUPER HUMAN-BEING and TRULY, THE BESTEST MUM a kid could ever have… She raised a Great little feller who became, in his own right, a Great Guy! (SB said, today: I don’t know how you do it! – I said: Hey! If it kills me, at least I go down working.) – And that said? There’s music on the iPod! (Thank you Motek! You gave me the Greatest Gift imaginable… I have music! And I’m getting back the music that’s meant so much to me and that was stolen from me. Music that brings me out of “now” and back to those moments when my Life was FULL of Happiness and Contentment… and true, some painful moments… but all said, Wonderful times.) There are clean dishes in the cup-boards. There’s banana bread on the table. And there’s a roof over head, walls surrounding and a floor beneath. I have a cot to lay on and a comforter to cover me. There’s a lunch prepared in the fridge. Tomorrow will bring more shit… but for this date, the World looses another battle against me, my father fails, yet again, even in Death, to destroy me, my Mum succeeds, and the date changes. I don’t care.

Sat.6.Oct: 8.35 Last night’s rain continues this morning and there’s much that has to be accomplished. I seriously doubt that all the work-hours will result in a sufficient income in the account today. Today I have to pay the phone and arrange for a heating oil delivery. I’m quite a bit behind in my rent responsibilities. SB will be confronted with new and “worse” battles that WE will have to deal with. My eyes only just barely focus, and there’s a “new and improved” REALLY REALLY REALLY SHARP PAIN in my chest that’s knocking the bloody breath out of me. Hmmmm… I have NO TIME for this shit! I’ve just come up from the kitchen: SB’s out but the car’s still here. The leaves on the trees across the street, in the church yard were air-brushed last evening: they’re gone from deep greens to yellows, golds, reds and oranges. Autumn is blowing in to the NORTH COUNTRY! It’s beautiful! Winter is just there, over the hills, up there, in Québec, waiting to shock us all with a crisp blast of cold air and what-ever it has saved-up from what we didn’t get last season. In spite of the fact that it appears I’ll have to be driving about on bald tyres in a car that want’s to simply lay down and die, I’m looking forward to seeing this little New England border town blanketed and muffled in sparkly white crystals. I’m looking forward to seeing that… just one more Winter in The North Country. Just one… at least. – Meanwhile, time to get this day into “Productive”. And.. away we go! – (8.53 Hey! At least there’s not-quite-enough in the banque account this morning! A mere 3,02 more would have been a delight… but… it’s not-quite-enough and yet, certainly not-too-bad. I’ll accept.) – 9.00 This chest pain has me concerned: I have to get the money out of the banque and to Silas. It does him no good there and that God-forsaken TD doesn’t need it. And it just wouldn’t be “right” for Creation and the Forces to do me in this close to “HOME”. If things are to go terribly down the tubes, I want to be “HOME” damn it ALL! I’ve come through too much and traveled too far to simply get “this close” and that’s the end. But this morning it seems there’s something “a miss” and it isn’t the ladies at the Debutante Ball. Hey! Fukface! You’ve put almost 60 years on the old chassis! Too bad you ain’t got the good sense God gave geese (thank you Garrison Keillor) to know when, “To a Frenchman, one egg is ‘un oeuf’.” (thank you Mo Greenberg). (This shit hurts.) – Good news from Nancy! WooHOO! A whole dollar! Honestly, it’s a bloodyfukking miserable pity that a dollar can be so important to us! That we, who have worked so hard for so long, have come to the point where ONE shiddiefukking DOLLAR means THAT much to us! And what an insulting spit in the face that some moron, brainless piece of trash can actually hold his/her head up by tossing something as petty as a DOLLAR to the person who performs ALL the necessary labour to provide that piece of shit of humanity with all the comforts he/she enjoys… at the expense of someone ELSE’S toiling and riding on the back of the one who, in reality, is supporting not only that waste of after-birth but his/her family as well. But I’m glad for the increase, Nanc! As they say: Better little than nothing. (“They” need to be shot!). – OH! MONDAY IS THANKSGIVING! There’s cheese cake in the fridge and I should make a traditional dinner. It’s only a Columbus Day here, but just 2km away, it will be a day to take, ponder, remember, and give THANKS… I have SO MUCH to be THANKFUL for right now… (I’d better get that opportunity to do so on THE day! Fuk the Forces! I WILL be about to do that much! And if these little pains are to be THAT serious, I WILL GO “HOME”! IT’S MY RIGHT! IT’S MY DUE!) – 22.01 At work. Mme. is SO changed! Full conversation! A pure delight. Until they gave her Ativan, she was calm. But now the nightly agitation begins. I’ve mentioned snd discussed the co-relation bet. the med and agitation… Apparently I’m taken for stupid… Obviously, nothing has been done. – As for the rest of today… A housing note for my ref:
*300 given, 240 accepted*
I tried to call the oil dealer. We need oil now. (I was just told that it’s about 40F out there already tonight.) Answering machine. I guess we wait until Wednesday now. – I need to pay the phone, storage, oil. I’ll have 22$ to live off for the next 2 weeks. – There’s talk of snow to the East and West of us. Driving will be interesting… on tyres with no discernible tread, on a car I have no papers for. Fran hit it right on the nose when she said, angrily: “DOUG PUT THE SCREWS TO YOU!” As SB put it: “Your only chance is to get a car.” Well, yes, on both points. Now, it’s just a matter of money. But I got me out of the Shelter, I got me out of NY. I take me to court. I get me to and from work. I am who will get me a car. Funny… alone in NYC, amongst 8,2million people. Alone in the Shelter amongst more than 850 other Homeless guys. Alone in VT amongst 600.000 residents. Alone in a house of 2. Alone. (Sand And Water. Beth Nielsen Chapman) We’re gonna be just fine. – I laid down fir about 40 minutes before coming to work. I woke more tired than I was before I napped. Showered and bolted for the door. SB has the house to himself. I get the impression that he doesn’t like being alone. He’s not used to it. Poor little guy. This VT thing has been quite a shock to him, so different from his years of always having somebody “there”. I try to be un-intrusive, but I’ll have to try to be more “there” for him. Winter’s coming. He’s in for even greater shocks. Shame, really, that his “parents”, who referred to him as “our boy” only this Summer, have all but dumped him in The North Country. It frequently reminds me of John Maughn who moved into Parkchester and would disappear on “coke binges” for days at a time. When that “relationship” shit the sheets, HIS mother chastised me: “YOU took responsibility for him. It looks like you failed.” Hmmm… He developed his coke habit whilst living at home, with BOTH parents. He contracted all sorts of STDs whilst living at home, with BOTH parents. He too, was in his 30’s. Parents? Indeed. Well, at least I’ve been through much… and I remember. Now, “our boy” becomes “my responsibility”? I think not. Of course I’ll do all that I can… all that I “can”. C’est tout. – And so, 23.40. Mme. fidgets. 7,25 hours more to go. Maybe in about 90 minutes or so, she’ll doze. The top window is open. It’s getting quite “October” out there… the bit of breeze coming in the window has a bit of a snap. Winter is coming… “my” Winter… is coming. – It’s 1.45 in the morning, I’ve just come in from a break. Looking up into the night sky, it’s really rather amazing: in Summer, the colour of a night sky is more blue than black, but as Winter approaches, there is a truly noticeable black to the colour. Instead of Summer black-blue, tonight’s sky is blue-black, with a definite, predominant black. Beautiful, really. And as I watched a wisp of cloud pass in front of the moon, a thought: once again my shelter, my “home” is so un-stable, un-certain, un-comfortable. I’m quite happy here… and instability shrouds me… yes… “shrouds”… exactly the same way the dead are shrouded. Again, and again, and now, again. – Mme. is still awake. She gets so little sleep. She seems to require so little sleep. Of late, I’m requiring little sleep. And my appetite dwindles. I noted that en route to work for this shift. Old? Expiring? Or simply shutting down? What-ever. It makes no difference to or for me. I hope Mme. doesn’t suffer because of insufficient rest.

Sun.7.Oct: (on Mon.8: 9.22) What can I say today that I could have said yesterday about Sunday? Nothing, really. It was a most un-eventful day. I got out of work at 7a, drove directly to the house where I put me into my room, checked the on-line world and went to bed for about 2,5 hours. When I woke, I told my-self that I would not push and shove me today. I’m BURNING DOWN’N’OUT! Working the night shift is miserable… for me. I don’t like having the world turned wrong-side out. And so, that said, the day was blown away as I down-loaded MORE MUSIC for the iPod! The days of Mr.G’s and the Limelight are coming together… again. OK, to many, that’s completely un-important, but as I researched the years of release on the music, my history has come back. It’s incredibly wonderful to hear the music again! And I even found some of the most obscure songs that probably got played solely in remote clubs in NYC and MTL because the DJs were strung-out and couldn’t find the next record so they simply played flip-sides. I don’t know. But it’s WONDERFUL to hear and to re-live. (How strange though, to find all these memories so far removed from anything even closely resembling those days… I mean… really… HERE? Well, why not here?) – It’s gotten chilly. “Ice” in the forecast for tonight in the North. – SB’s “Parents” dropped by today! Imagine? I no sooner mention them and they show up! Freaky! I remained in my room, having nothing very pleasant to say to them and really not wanting to hear what’s been said about me of late. I heard the voices, saw the car, but thought it might have been a “friend” of SB’s, perhaps come to look at the room he’s bent on renting. (I warned him: If he advertises, he’ll be forced into accepting people he just might not want to have in the house. Did he listen? No! Of course not. So, I’ll have to put a lock on my room, and wonder… always. There will be MUCH trouble if something happens to my belongings. Especially since he’s had the Rental Agreement for several days now and there’s been no signing. I’m a bit pissed about that. I know that “Wait and See” isn’t the best course of action to take on this. But, it will serve as a lesson…) It NEVER occurred to me that THEY would show up! Well, he now has more “stuff” (a huge comforter and such things). They come, they see, they dump, they leave. I had to laugh when, as he and I talked in the kitchen, I told him that I’d just thought about them not being here for a while and THERE they are! – One thing worth mentioning: Apparently the “Parents” and “boy” went into St.A. for a bite to eat and SB thought of me and brought back a bit of what this country tries to pass off as “Poutine”. (NOT!) But how sweet of him to think of me! (He also brought back a “frickle”… fried pickle, a la tempura-style. Not bad. Greasy. But not bad.) And so, those are the highlights of the day. – Oh, and thanks to SB, I “paid” the phone via debit card. What a bunch of SHIT one has to go through with “StraightTalk”! I’m amazed and just how STUPID, terminally OBTUSE they are! Seriously! It’s the PRE “can-and-string” version of telecommunication! Time to move on to something that actually has some connection to the current (or at least the previous) century! I mean: fuhuhuhuhuhuhk. (Since I’m putting this together on Thursday, I can refer to Monday here and the additional information on this matter… It’s worth the mention, I believe. I SO miss the MetroPCS days and wish they had service up here!) – What I MUST MUST MUST add before finishing this entry is: THANKFUL? OH YEAH! I couldn’t remember where I’d put the money for the heating oil! Last minute, just before getting to bed. I searched ALL over… well… almost ALL… It bothers me that I can’t recall things. Mostly due to fatigue from the night shifts and other factors (I’m sure). But… believe it or not, at about 23.30, as I sat in the loo… BINGO! I remembered! And yes, there it was, right where I’d left it! OH! Can you imagine? Well… now to get the oil delivered! It won’t be much and it won’t solve ALL, but it’ll be better than the almost empty tank in the basement now. – The end of this day… on to the next.

Mon.8.Oct: 9.45 Action de Grâce! I wish I were NORTH! But y’know? I’m so damned close that I truly AM THANKFUL today! – However… I have a useless telephone beside me this morning since “StraightTalk” billing and customer service doesn’t function after “regular business hours” and they can’t computer-generate payments from on-line service. VERY “PRE “can-and-string” version of telecommunication”. I wouldn’t bring the up to the term “dick”, since that serves a particular function and they certainly do not. – 10.03 and I’ve just returned from the little market where I got my smokes. It’s OCTOBRE out there this morning, rather lightly over-cast, a breeze, damp from last night’s rains, and a bit on the chilly side of cool. Why, SB’s even got the heat running this morning (may the oil last!). Oddly, I went out, dressed in the sweats I’d slept in, sneakers and no socks, and a hooded sweat-shirt. As Fran once said “You look very VT.” Indeed, I did this morning. And now? In the silence and PEACE that is this house, I will have my coffee and plan this day… THANKSGIVING! I’M THANKFUL… I’M HERE! – (On Wed.10.Oct:00.25) – And so, as the day progressed, SB suggested a trip to “Chittenden”, he wanted t go to the larger Hannaford’s. Me? Not so much. I truly hate going anywhere near that county, and particularly, I despise going into any town in that county. Is it any wonder? It’s the seat of all the trouble that I’m still trying to get rid of. But… I did want to look into speakers for the iPod and there’s nothing around here, short of going into Québec some-where, so I agreed… in contest. Off we went… First stop was the BstBy. WELL! As we pulled round toward the parking-lot I noticed: SNOW ON THE TOP OF MANSFIELD! IT’S ARRIVED… SNOW! Granted, only on the top of the “highest point in the state”, but it’s begun. In one respect, I’m thrilled to no end. In another, I’m sick: shitty car, bald tyres, bad transmission, and I’ll be commuting some 60miles round-trip for work, later at night and early in the morning. Well boiz and goilz? Here we go! Let’s see (if) how we survive this adventure. – Next, Stple where I got a roll of white paper. I’m going to put it up on a wall and draw. What? I’m still un-certain, Shawangunks? Perhaps. Or Québec. Or just quotes. I don’t know for certain, but it will be fun. I also picked-up a new Flash drive. The one from SIBL (NYC) is just about full from all the music, videos, and graphics. I’ll separate the “fun” from the documentation this way and have more space on the SIBL Drive. – It was off to Hnfrds where, indeed, we got the turkey and all that goes with. YAY! THANKSGIVING DINNER! – A quick run-through at Goodwill (I’m still looking for window treatments at 1,99$) where I came out the same as went in: empty-handed. They’ve changed the store a bit and raised the prices. Not to mention, they had nothing I wanted. Amazing! – When I got into the car, I thought SB wanted to run to Wlmrt but he, like me, wanted to get the hell out of Chittenden. (It truly is a nasty area full of nasty people… for both of us.) We were on the “Interstate” and North-bound in moments. – The drive was lovely, but the Autumn foliage has been washed down by the recent rains. No brilliant colours left, just muted shades of yellows and redish. I fear the “Leaf-Peeper” season will suffer this year, as the Winter season did last. This… is NOT good for an already failing economy in the area. We hope the Winter is kinder. – When we returned home, I gave SB the cash, he allowed me his debit card and I paid the phone! (Or, I THOUGHT I paid the phone.) And then it was TIME TO COOK! And WE did. I say “WE”! As I prepped the bird, SB got right into the yams and potatoes. It was really something to see. I mean, here we are, in a HUGE kitchen with no table to speak of (the owner gave us a glass-top patio table, seats about 20) (or at least 8), and no chairs. But here we were, preparing a full Thanksgiving dinner. Hey, we have a kitchen, and we have food. The thanks were appropriate already. (Think back to a year ago…) Suddenly, we needed another pot and a tin-opener (the one I’d brought apparently didn’t work because ‘somebody’ left it in the dish-washer and it rusted quite a bit) and another tin of yams. SOOooo… as the turkey went into the oven, we headed off to the Dollar General where, yet again, it was like 2 idiots out on Holidays, laughing and running through the aisles to get back before the turkey burned and the rest of the dinner went amok. Yup, it was a “Holdiay” (and, it was already going for about 19.00). Mission accomplished, we headed back to the home-stead to finish. – Dinner was WONDERFUL! Turkey, yams, stuffing, potatoes, cranberries, green beans. And, even SB was impressed with the whole thing. We “dined” in the parlour and chatted. I made particular point of stressing how grateful I am for being here, in The North Country, and in this wonderful house. (True, I am.) And, as I try to do on a rather regular basis, I mentioned the Journal of 8539266. I’d very much like it if he would take the time to read it. I believe it would give him quite the perspective on my past. When one thinks about it, he knows very, precious little about me. That would give him a lot of insight, I believe. – Dinner done, the dishes went into the dish-washer tonight and SB did the pots and pans! THANKSGIVING… and the “Family” worked on it… together. – We watched a couple of episodes of “Dr. Who” (SB’s latest craze) in his room and I retired up-stairs to get to a bit of work on the Flash drives… – It was a delightful Holiday…. Truly… back in The North Country. As the night rolled into the morning next I couldn’t help but think: Thanksgiving is done… here comes the Winter! And all the while, there was a delightful Peace… Thanksgiving… Octobre. I’ve been about the state, gone through some pretty nasty Hell in the past year here, managed to get through all but 2 obstacles and those 2 are seriously major. Hopefully one will be done with before the end of the month and the other? Well, not this month, to be sure, but I’ll try for next (that one I MUST get done with… it’s the CAR!). (Then the thought: if I have to drive that vehicle in the snows and ice, it WILL be taken care of… one way or another… here, in The North Country… but I’m at least “closer” to “HOME”.) –

Oh, about the phone: StraightTalk? WOW! They truly support and up-hold the reputation of WalMart! Not only is the phone itself a 150$ piece of unadulterated shit, but their “service” is (and I say this clinically) retarded. After going through more questions and crap to log-in on-line, the web-site is a total mess and navigation is next to impossible. (Created by the under-served and under-privileged, no doubt.) With MetroPCS, all I had to do was put in the phone number, card number and an addresse. Bingo! Paid. Receipt. Done. NOT with this shit-phone service! Navigate here and there and all over, information that rivals Home Security. You’d think I was applying for a position of top importance in the World Government! (Anything to make themselves feel more important than they actually are, I’m supposing.) Then, the payment options available: either you have a little store-bought card or you enroll in auto-pay! No one-shot payment available. It was a disastre! Passwords, PINs, data, info… Incredible! Just a pain. But I’d done it and it appeared that all went well until… They cut the service! Just like that! Had it not been for some obscure, stupid e-mail from their so-called “customer service”, I’d’ve never known! I shot them a reply, they’d shot me a telephone number to contact them through (imagine… they’re cutting the service and yet, giving a telephone number where they can be reached… it reminds me of the old “Bell” days when one would call them to report trouble on the line and they’d ask “Are you calling from that phone?” WOW! Who’s the idiot here?). I called… I had to call them twice! BOTH times, some functionally illiterate broad with a definite inner-city, rather Latina-ish sentence and grammar construct. “I don’t know why that payment di’nt went through and you will might want to contact your banque institution for to find out why that payment di’nt went through.” JEEZ US ALL HELL! StraightTalk either scours the ghetto gutters or has out-sourced MORE U.S. work! Either way, it was impossible to have a conversation with either of these idiots! And the replies? Text-book. I commented on the fact that the on-line payment service should be made quicker. I even gave them reference to a better format. THEY had to go on-line, to the same site, ask me all sorts of questions, fill in the blanks that I’d already done, with one exception: They managed to put through a one-time payment. HOW? No explanation. But both of them insisted that the option was available on the site until… they got there. “I do not see that it will be possible for you to make this payment this way but I will look and check with my supervisions. It will take me a moment.” Indeed. ANYway, the finale? THE payment did “went through” at long last and when I asked for a receipt number? “I do not see that there is any reeseePPPt number but the payment has went through and your service is good.” Well, just fuk me and, I’m off to find another service just as soon as is possible. Thank you for a lot of trouble and tribulation there, StraightTalk. Your name is a blatant lie… there’s nothing StraightTalk about any of it. Oh… well… at least the tawdry and ridiculous reputation of WalMart is still intact.

Tue.9.Oct: It was a rather not-eventful day today. Really more like what would be called a “wasted” day. I spent it ALL in the house, working with several thousand files on the Flash drives. True… photos, mostly. Copies and copies of photos. Here, there and all over. Some back to the Shelter days and beyond. – But the GREAT NEWS! OIL DELIVERY! I can only afford 50 gallons this time, we could certainly use a LOT more, but at least we have this much and just as the tank went to almost completely empty. It’s getting quite chilly these days up here and heat is something very much needed. SB and I both have little electric heaters (his is larger and quite better than mine, though mine does keep my smaller room rather comfy… whilst the rest of the house is like one huge walk-in cooler… minus the sides of cattle and deer). But we have enough for a couple of days. My next pay-cheque will be completely gone with payments of phone, storage (which is now behind, yet again), fuel for the car (to get to work to get another cheque which will be another one-shot gone in payments) and fuel for heat (and rent, and half the utilities… yup… gone… pouf). But we’ll be warm! – As I worked on the files here, SB went for his “Postal” exam in Swntn! By the way: once again, the testing, as with the job: My encouragement, direction, in-put, support, information… I recall as I journal, that, during our trip to BestBuy and such, it was mentioned that I was discussed with his “parents” on their visit. The way it was dropped into our conversation as we drove down the Interstate was something rather “supportive” of me that SB allegedly said to his Mum. Why he would feel that he had to support me is an issue that I ponder, but not in earnest, and I give no particular import to. However, I do find it of some minute interest that his “parents” would make it necessary for him to support me when, in fact, THEY had NOTHING to do with the fact that he IS working (albeit, fewer hours… leave it to the postal service… they do that to their new hires… give much time and encouragement and then BLAM! down to nothing… makes for great morale and a general feeling of job security… more dip-shit arse holes them) and he IS living independently, and he is NOT still with them. Yes, I DO take FULL credit for giving direction and encouragement and for his bit of “success” here in VT. I’m certainly not “prefect” in any way, but I do recognise and acknowledge the fact that I’m a damned far cry better “parent” to this guy than what mothered him and the other one who decided, though not legally or legitimately to “adopt” “our boy”. For the first 9 months of his being here in VT, they bitched about him being in “their” home, that he wasn’t working, that he had either no income or no steady income. They kept talking to him about his pending and possible “failures”. Negative, all negative. Meanwhile, I was giving him encouragement, options. I was trying to get ME on a path to success of some kind AND working on finding employment for him. And so, what happened? I’m busting my arse, working 2 jobs just to make it through the week, and he gets a job that pays this rent in one cheque. I’m driving the country-side to find places to rest, so that I can work my 2 jobs, and he’s catching-up on expenses and driving the country-side to take bits of fluff to costly dinners. Alas. And now? His “parents” talk about me as if I’m a bit of trash, planting bits of mistrust and distrust in his mind. (Hillary isn’t any better… she doesn’t even acknowledge me unless it’s impossible not to… that’s most likely from the other day with the little blow-up that SB and I have moved-on and past but…) Well folk, my reputation remains stable: sullied as all shit. But that’s the way love goes… I believe I’ve done VERY WELL INDEED by Silas. It may not be the Utopia (oh how I miss my boro of Queens… Jamaica, Jamaica Estates, and even Woodside), but it’s a far cry from how it could be and is for the rest of this area. I release it, let it go. It’s been documented. I don’t and can’t care. – That said, SB did rather very well in the test. The score is in and he’s passed! As I told him, it opens more doors and possibilities for him, even with-in the postal service (there will be more encouragement and such to come, no doubt to get him going with it… You’re very welcome to his “parents” who will not be participating in any of this, I’m certain). – This evening, when hunger hit me like a boulder, I went down to the kitchen to find Hillary standing there, with a plate full of food. I later learned that she came down to say that she had only tea in her house. Imagine this: Now, not only does she not knock before coming into the house, she’s here to enjoy the food… and the heat. And so it goes that I contribute not only to this house-hold with the 2 of us, but now my contributions get distributed to the little bitch who disrespects me. Yes, this is my “Life”. I put it to SB: I’ve eaten from garbage cans, have eaten spoiled foods, simply because I couldn’t afford anything else. I do not begrudge food. Better Hillary should eat than experience what I’ve experienced. But, and I did not say this, maybe it would be Human of her to at least acknowledge, in some little manner, the fact that she wouldn’t be enjoying her privileges if I hadn’t put so much effort into the success of her Benefactor. But no… this too shall pass… be let go… left behind. – The day ended with a brief look at Dr. Who, this time, in my room. Talk of a trip to the “Home-land” tomorrow… but I have to be at work for yet another over-night. These past few days of leisure have passed quickly. And now, more than before, I MUST be sure to keep the income in-coming. SB’s hours are diminished and there will be more stress to come. Still… I am SO CLOSE TO HOME! AND I’M NOT LETTING THIS GO!

Wed.10.Oct: 23.34 at work. Heavy-chested. Like spiked straps wrapped tightly round. Anxiety. Painful anxiety. Really painful anxiety. And WOW what a feeling of disociation, removal, alone… very, VERY much alone. Just unbelievably and indescribably alone. Alone in a very oppressive blackness. Worse, much worse than the night I stood at the entrance of the Shelter. Worse yet than the emptiness I felt that first night in the Shelter. Just a black, silent void. Alone in a vast, pressured emptiness. Alone. This afternoon, Silas offered to run into Sutton, to get poutine. To go to IGA for cheese curd and, where I could get my Belvederes and some Javex. I was extatic! A trip HOME? OK! I got me together, we got into the car and off we went, just like it should be: a grocery run to the market. WooHoo! We got to the border and, as locals would, simply handed the guy at the Customs our passports, answered a couple of regular questions as he quick-scanned the passports and then… we had to pull over… he had to look into something. Silas jokingly blamed it on my proper pronunciation of “poutine”. I had a gut feeling… it was more than confirmed. After several kong moments of waiting in the car, a second gentleman of the Customs Canada came out. In rather heavy, familiar and heart-warming accent, he asked me to come into the office. Of course I went. They’re Canada. They’re Québec. And I have no reason to distrust them. They’re fair, respectful, respectable. Inside, a third man sat at a desk, a woman came to the counter. Seems my name associated with a pending criminal charge, would I care to tell them about it? Well, of course I would. Not a problemme indeed. And so I did. They went over to a group of desks where one gentleman made a phone call, followed by a discussion amongst all of them and then… THEN it came: I am prohibited from crossing the border! I am prohibited from going HOME… even to the market! No driving, walking, biking, flying… NO entry at all what-so-ever! The clincher? Not only did I have to leave immediately, with a form forbidding entry… they were kind enough to explain: Even if found innocent, even if the courts dismiss, even if the case is expunged, it will remain on record… for EVERY day of the REST OF MY LIFE! It will now NEVER be erased. Done. They were exceptionaly kind, typically respectful and informative, even a bit apologetic. All the while, poor Silas waited in the car. When I returned, a Customs fellow explained that I could not cross and that he was obligated to return me to the U.S. Poor Silas, punished because of the punishment I’m undeservedly getting. To think, not only has Ms.Owens proved her uselessness in general, but the State of Vermont is proving its own uselessness by blatantly wasting tax-payers’ money bringing Owens’ farce into full trial based solely on spite, arrogance and badic, general stupidity. Meanwhile, my 57 years of existence is destroyed… permanently and forever. As I asked Silas as we drove into St.Albans for the “poutine” he found at “One Federal” and which he wanted me to try, I wonder why Dianne picked on me, is so bent on destroying me… she knows nothing about me, nothing of my past or present, never asked. But she’s so determined to completely destroy me, my reputation, my life. She picks up where my sister left off and SHE will finish the job… indeed, she will finish the job. – Silas and I ate at One Federale. Cheese soup and poutine for me, poutine and “frickles” for him. As we sat, I rang the atty’s office. On Monday, I have to be in that office at 9.00. Another 4.00am beginning to a day and a wasted day in BTV. More travel, more money that I don’t have… for what? At this point: NOTHING! NOTHING! It doesn’t matter any more. The out-come of this trial doesn’t matter. No matter what… this is my existence for eternity. Nothing matters nor makes a difference. At this very moment, I honestly don’t plan on going to the office on Monday. At this very moment, (I’m dozing off, losing thought, and ready to just pass out!) none of any of this is worth the effort. No matter what, I am destroyed. It’s finished, done, complete and will never be gone. “Never”. That word hasn’t ever been so over-whelmingly destructive. Tonight, I know what it is to be totally and completely “hopeless”… despondent… sucked into the abyss of unadulterated and endlessly black despair. I’ve been “depressed”. This is not that. I’ve aleays had SOME tiny glimmer, some minute spark of either “hope” or even curiosity. Tonight, I have “nothing”… nothing, nothing, NOTHING. Just… nothing. Not even the curiosity that, all through my existence kept me moving forward through adversity. I was told, by the atty, to not discuss this case. When I get back to the house after work, I’ll post this entey to the Journal. This “Loup Nordique” will be going HOME now and since there is no “Life” any longer, these will be the final entries. There is no more punishment left to be meted out. This is the very end of all that. And I WILL go HOME… and I will NOT be returning. I don’t care. I don’t hope. Not for me. Dyan Dianna Olsen has stripped all of that out of even my soul. And, as of tonight, she’s pulled the breath out of my body. A complete stranger. A stupid woman. A wicked, evil, stupid woman. My ticket HOME. My ticket out if here. – My one Hope: that all goes excellently for Silas. He brought so much Happiness and Life to me. In the year I’ve known him, I’ve come to Love him, as a good Father loves his son, as a good Friend loves a good Friend. I am this close to HOME thanks to him. And where there is payment in kind for Caring Goodness, no payment to him will ever be sufficient. Where-ever he goes, I wish him Life and True Contentment. I Hope for Nancy’s Contentment as well. She’s been such a Wonder and a Wonderful Friend. And I Hope that someone will celebrate my Liberation. Please, somebody celebrate my Liberation. – So long everybody. Mama, don’t be sad for me; Life was a heart-ache but now I am finally free. Don’t know where I’m goin’, hope I’ll see you some day soon. So long everybody I am goin’ beyond the moon. Times have changed and times are strange. Here I come, but I ain’t the same. Mama, I’m coming HOMEe. Times gone by seem to be, you could have been a better friend to me Mama, I’m coming HOME. You made me cry, you told me lies. But I can’t stand to say goodbye Mama, I’m coming HOME. I could be right, I could be wrong. Hurts so bad, it’s been so long Mama, I’m coming HOME. I’ll be HOME for Christmas, if only in my dreams. Hey Viv! I told you I’d come HOME again… THIS time NObody will be able to tell me “Time’s up, gotta go.” THIS time I’ll be HOME… Eternally.

Thu.11.Oct: 1.39 at work. Tired… from so much. But, here I am where I should be. I’ve spent so much of my adult life helping others. Shit! Even as a 9 year old I was sneaking out of the play-ground to go to the “Old Folks’ Home” to visit with and help the “old folks”. Then pediatrics, Hospice, psychiatric med/surg, cardiology, respiratory, AIDS Counselor, Home Health/Nursing, Home Care, help folks find jobs, help my damned sister financially… for what? To have some tattered whore destroy my entire life? And yet, here I am, again tonight, helping and caring. Bloody retard, that’s me. Screwed so far up the arse that my tear ducts flow seminal fluids. But… yet again, I’m to help and protect others. Fuk me! Fuk my life! And this morning? Just fuk it ALL! – And at 23.13… another day in. I walked in the door this morning, up to my room, got ready for bed and slept… until almost 15.00! I don’t care. I just don’t care. When I woke, I was alone. SB had one into Chittenden for the day, bless him. It’s tough on him, with me working all night and sleeping all day. Of course, today was the day we’d planned on going into Brossard… that would be Québec. But right now, I’m looking at being locked-out of there… locked out of HOME… for FIVE FUKKING YEARS! And so, I slept. And when I woke? Got caught-up with some e-mail, got a couple more songs for the iPod… I have my music… too bad I can’t enjoy any of it because I’m so damned despondent that music nauseates me of late. But it’s there, if the opportunity to listen and enjoy EVER presents again. – A few e-mails to Nanc… Dear Nanc. And then on to the research that I feel I must do for the trial. I have an atty who has a paralegal who should be doing all this work. But I don’t trust one single little fukkarse bastard inbred slob in this state. Bunch of fukking retards is all about what they are. Incompetent morons. I see me getting rail-roaded in all of this. So I have to be prepared to represent my own case on my own behalf… just in case. As I say: I’m accustomed to INjustice and UNaccustomed to justice. – Oh, when I woke, there, on the floor… the Lease Agreement… signed. If I were in better spirits, I’d’ve probably cried. Today, rather, I was just appreciative. Then, when SB came back, he came directly up to see me. He’s concerned… Today he said that his major purpose for coming up here into this house was (is) because he wanted ME to have a place to call “home”, a place where I could get the rest that I wasn’t getting ever since he’d met me. I suppose I inspired him in more ways that I’d imagined because he’s got some kind of “Protective” instinct when it comes to me. I wonder why… but I don’t question it. I appreciate it. I don’t necessarily trust it, but that’s no insult to him, it’s my nature. Still, it does my heart good. He’s seen what’s been happening and he knows. That’s saying more than quite a bit. We both signed the Lease Agreement… We both have copies. I’m relieved. – And then dear Hil came down, again, to sit in the luxury of the heated home. (Please let the oil hold out until I can afford more! We NEED it now!) We all watched a bit of videos and I finished my “legal” work. – I need to eat something soon. I have no appetite. I don’t want to eat. I don’t care to eat. (I’d like an empty stomach and a depleted body when it comes time to head out for my BDM… a little something I look forward to… in some peaceful corner… of HOME… soon.) – Well, tomorrow is a 2-shift night. We’ll see what comes of that. Right now, I need to get a nap in. I’ve promised to get the garbage out so SB can sleep a bit later. He’s had a couple of days off (he’s so anxious about it… but I try to calm him… the PO is fukking him too, poor bastard, but that’s how they are). Truth is, I’m exhausted. It was a lot of mental work, doing all that legal research. – The day… is closed. – Note: Doctor comes into the room of a recent patient who’s had his legs shredded in a terrible accident. The doctor says, as he entres the room: “So! How are you today?” The patient, suffering agonies unimaginable says, with tears flowing and face winced in pain, “I’m in excruciating pain! I just want to die now, quickly and get it over with!” The doctor strolls toward the door and says, with-out ever looking at the patient, “Good, good. I’ll stop by and see you again tomorrow.” This is my Life.

Fri.12.Oct: 16.30 Bread in the oven and the word comes: Doug’s reported the car as stolen. I’m up on Grand Larceny if I don’t leave the car some place now. I’ve got court dates coming and a job to try to hold on to and no way of getting to any of them. Here comes a bench warrant if I don’t appear in court and no income when I lose the job. Well folks, it’s been quite an experience… Time to check out of this shit. Thankfully HOME is with-in walking distance… and there was a flurry of snow today so… my favourite season comes upon us. Timing. As I’ve said: I’ve always wanted to go HOME to die… Life ha finally gifted me with something on my wish list. Peace all. Fri.12.Oct: (Sat.13.Oct:2.35 work) It has been a day of education, insight and, well, reckoning. It began quite wonderfully. Cold. Octobre has truly arrived and in that respect, I am quite happy. A snap to the air, oil in the tank, heat in the old house, and I got my desk together, receipts and police reports and all the papers for the attorney on Monday. More music on the iPod as well including the OLD originals of German music from the days of being at Oma’s! Ah… Schmulik, I thank you with heart and soul for the iPod, and Silas for the info and direction on how to find and gather these old and important melodies. It was a delightful day… until… Before closing the computer for the day, I happened to check the e-mail for voice mail and there, from Doug! the finale: no insurance on the car and the plates are canceled! The fukker just turned his back against me. Never mind all the promises he’d made to effect the necessary repairs and such. Just, in the words of Fran, “put the screws to” me and toddle off. He was the first of 3 today. – It was getting late in the day and I had to get to work but had no bread for sandwiches! I baked, 2 small loaves, Silas kept me company in the kitchen. – * * * FLURRIES TODAY! * * * as the bread was being made! – I told Silas about the car, just to keep him informed. I didn’t then, and I don’t now expect much (any) constructive support. I just want to keep him informed. And good thing… none was forthcoming. So much so in fact that I showered, dressed and left and he was in his room, behind closed doors. – The drive to work tonight was wonderful. I felt so free, care-free, light: at 100-120km/h. Melt-down. I truly don’t care, just don’t. If the wheels on the car go now… great; let it happen at good speed. No little bump or thud… SMASH! End. I’m free now… quite free. – Next? A “twit” to add to the e-mails from Nancy. Oh the patronising apathy. ‘Gee, that’s tough.’ about the 5-year imposed exile from HOME. Well, sorry to have disturbed your life-flow there, Nanc. And thanks for the compassion. Doug. Nancy. Then PJ! Same patronising but with a bit of a twist: psych-eval and accusatories! Suggestions that I should be on meds and in therapy! I’ve been accused of assaulting Tara; screwed, shafted, lied to and fukked by Doug; accused of embezzlement, charged with larceny; spent 2 months trying to help Fran toward a good life only to sleep in the car and spending 100$ on a tent to “live” in… and in the educated and highly esteemed opinion of Mr. dePotter, I require meds and therapies. But HIS situation in Winooski? Call ME for support. Oh how very different it all is now. So… Fuk the bull-shit and dump the bull-shitters. Cow shit makes healthy food crops… bull shit makes the air suffocatingly impossible and foul-smelling. Fuk it, fuk that, fuk them. As I sent in an e-mail to PJ:
“Thanks. Patronisation is just what I truly need right now. But of course, in all honesty and with all intelligent and intellectual sincerity, with all due respect, I expect that from others. It puts me in my place which is to be the help and support to others at all times but certainly never to indicate any need of my own. As it is with my work/job, so too it goes with my life in general. I do apologise for having asked anything of you. Indeed, it was a wrong that cannot be made right. I don’t know that it warranted condescension, but if you feel justified in your judgement, that is what is most important. I hope you feel good or better about yourself, who you are and your place in the universe. You’ve certainly put me in mine.

PJ, you have a great many responsibilities now. You and I met at a time when it was beneficial to both of us. You’ve said that I helped you in some ways. I’ll hope that’s true. And so, you are now well on your way to meeting and accomplishing your goals and this is wonderful. And I have commited the unforgivable crime of asking for a bit of human compassion and at least an effort to give some understanding. I assure you, promise and vow that will never happen again. Daily, I learn. This lesson is complete.

Best of luck to you in your endeavours. I don’t see how you’ll be of much good to those you claim you want to help, but I wish you the best in your studies.

I see no further need on either side for future correspondence or communications. I believe our paths crossed when necessary, now it’s time to follow the path we intended to take.

Fare well PJ. And thank you, for the help you gave and the lesson you’ve so eloquently taught me with your missive.
Cheers to you.”

Yes indeed, that was my responsd to;
“Le 2012-10-12 à 19:41, “P.J. DePotter” a écrit :

Hey Jude,
I’m sorry you’re having a tough time. I think we can focus on a solution without just giving-up and throwing things away though. This situation can be worked on without going into the woods of Quebec for good! Lets see what can be done about the transportation issue. You can try to work things out with Doug first and that might help a great deal in the short term. Or, find a crappy car for a little money. Whatever it is there is a solution.You talk a lot about suicide as well and that is a chemical thing and situational thing that you have to get help with. This situation isn’t worth jumping into any lakes about. If you think it is you have to go tell a doctor ASAP and they can guide you through it and there’s no shame involved in asking for help because we all have thought about jumping at least once in our lives. You are strong, an intellectual, a kind and spiritual individual with God given gifts and your life has value here. I hate religion but the higher powers have a plan for you even if I sound like shit! It’s true! Lets work on a solution and not get all out of sorts. Communication, trust and understanding. What are your ideas? **HUGS**”

And so. And so. Off to “work” where again, I help, aid and do all I can to make others comfortable and safe. OTHERS. And I do NOT ask for or expect or hope for anything of the sort for myself. And at work? “Cleaned” my “cyber life”. TwitterBlocks and e-mail blocks as well. Fukkem, byebye. Thanks… just as always: As long as I keep my mouth shut, a smile on my lips, a doololly joke about my trials and tribulations, folks flock. Ask for help, imply I could use help, shake, rattle, roll or stop the music and suddenly… pouf-bang solo alone. Thanks a bloodyfukkingwholehellofalot! Y’know a little something: I’ve done for me since I was about 5. Fuk you, 52 years later and I still can. Y’ALL might not approve but… all y’all don’t matter to me and my existence… even less than I matter to “yours”. – But Silas? Thank you. Truly. Thank you. You might not be solving things or even moving toward that but at least you’re there to see and know what’s happening. Thank you Good Friend. – This is the final post on this open Journal. I’m tired…

Sat.13.Oct: 8.06 Just getting into the house. The world is beautiful this morning, what, with all the frost covering everything. Enosburgh was particularly beautiful, having been hit with a heavy, hard frost. Though, getting into the car this morning was fun, but at the same time, not fun. Frost on the windshield and the bloody scraper that dear Doug provided is all but useless. That, and I can’t leave the car running because it stalls, and no washer fluid left. It just keeps mounting. I don’t ask what’s to come next. Ask, and you’ll be hammered. I let it go and, quite honestly, enjoyed the care-free drive in the Winter sun in my eyes. If the car is to careen off the road, let it be at 60mph or faster and let it be lethal, final. – At the house, Silas has gone to work. The kitchen is a mess. Cup-boards open, crumbs on the counter, things is disarray. Out-side, the recycling containers were still lying on the lawn. It’s going to be an interesting Winter season. He has time to browse and game on the computer all the while, but won’t lift a finger to keep things in order. Yes, an interesting Winter to come. Me? I probably won’t be around to see it… either back HOME in some wood-land, becoming part of the soil, “the land”, or, at the rate things go round here, in some prison for something ludicrous. I don’t care. I can’t care any longer. – It was a delightful evening at work. Today is Mme’s 88th birthday. She got good rest last night and this morning, the LNA staff agreed to let her sleep a bit longer. Bless them. – With all the running of the heat, the tank is still almost ,25 per-cent. It doesn’t use much. When I got in, the thermostat was set at 65F. I put it up to 70. I refuse to freeze. And, I’ll have something to say if the electric bill is high because Silas insists upon using his electric heater. – Well, time to get me together and to nap. – Oh, I’ve blocked Nancy and PJ from the Twitter and have made this Journal “Private”. I have no use for judgmental and apathetic persons at this juncture in my existence. There will be more blocking and such to come, but this will make it easier to say/journal things I want to say and leave it at that. (Gee, I wonder if Motek is reading this. I’ll find out if he sends word that he can’t access… then I’ll send him the password.) – Exhausted right now. Time for at lease SOME sleep before the “House-Mate” returns and bangs all. – Sat.13.Oct: 21.18 at work. Seems I’ve erased the previous notes for this month on the iPod. Oh well then. It’s a day of starting a-fresh in other respects. Perhaps it’s best to start these notes was well. – The Journal LoupNordique is now gone “private”, blocking all, including PJ and Nancy. Those e-mails now go directly to “archive” on gmail. NYC8539266QUE will go off into oblivion after so many years and LouoNordique is born. A change has come. A drastic change. In many ways. I’m at wits’ end. I’m at caring’s end. Trite, uncaring e-mails from Nancy. PJ’s condescending suggestion that I need medical help. (Why? Because I asked him for thehelp he offered snd he jilted? FukU! Then, THEN the “need for medication” shit from Silas! (who, by the way, IS on meds). And being told that he (Silas) is nervous because I have my BDM. And all the while, NO support. As I say, and said to him: I’m so loved as long as I provide flawless support. But if I dare to ask for a bit, I ZOOM to the top of the Shit-list. I got some pontification, patronising and that was it. Right then. Done. – The house is a mess. But there’s oil for heat (thanks to me). I tried to fix something to bring to work? He jumped in to use the kitchen. I literally threw turkey and bread into a container. Fukkit. Crumbs on the floor. Dishes in the sink. He won’t even put-up the clean dishes in the drain-board. I can’t live like this. Oh, and he’s giving money to Hillary! Crying poverty at home and throwing money at Hillary. Right then. Fuk it, fuk him, fuk me, fukkitall. Enough. My therapy, my out-let: Journal and new Twitter (with others pre-blocked). I with-draw and rely upon… SELF! – I can’t get past the arrogance and apathy. These people know what I’ve been through in NYC and Silas has been here through most of this Vermont shit. I haven’t complained. But when it all comes to beat me, and I ask for a bit of help or support? Why, Silas can’t find time to help with acar search, let alone, wiping food spills from the counter. That, and he knows my key doesn’t work in the kitchen dead-bolt but the door was bolted when I left for work. I expect to be locked out tomorrow after work. Once again I have to think of alternative places to go to after work… Again… FukMe. – But at work, all goes so well. I’m getting more familiar and comfortable here and the staff treats me like one of them. Mme. had her birthday today, is very talkative, but restless. Hopefully the 1am meds will help her sleep. – I sent a text to Silas reminding him about the back door. – 20$ in the gas tank tonight. Half a tank. 10$ to my name until next Sunday. Bad times. But rent’s paid and there’s heating oil. Storage and phone next… STORAGE! – And I have such a charmed life. Right then. –
********** REMINDERS **********
P.J. @Streetworker213 3h
@NYC8539266QUE You were offered help and because I couldn’t send you a ton of money you have made it a 24/7 pity party and personal attack.
Voir les détails ·
P.J. @Streetworker213 3h
@NYC8539266QUE I’ve just had it with your constant negitivity and blaming everyone for your problems. Take some personal responsibility!
Voir les détails ·
********** REMINDERS **********
13.Oct.2012.PJ

Mon.15.Oct.2012 5.58 There is no harm in needing help.
The harm comes into play when we ASK for help.
The detriment occurs when we think we'll receive help.
The despondency comes when we hope to receive help.
The destruction comes when we're attacked, belittled and derided because we actually had the audacity to ASK for help.

"I've offered you help all along and you never took advantage of my offer. You never asked me for anything." (A telephone conversation from Fran's.)

"If you called me and said, 'PJ I need 3400$' I'd think nothing of going out and sending you a cheque or what-ever right away." (Same conversation.)

I asked for 1500$. This is what comes of it.

********** REMINDERS **********
And the vitriolic attacks kept coming! Well, they got returned. Tonight was not the night to attack me. Example: coming in to work, somebody approached with high beams a-glow. I waited until we were in close proximity and then FLASH! My highs flashed! I was also being tailed, at about 100km/hr, by a pick-up, all the way from E.Birk to St.Albans. The New Yorker in me is surfacing. I am in “Full Battle” mode and it takes nothing to provoke it. And I’m happy with it. – I’m also thinking of being locked out of the house when I get back in the morning. Yes, AGAIN, thinking of alternatuve places to find shelter. I can’t and won’t go on like this. – 24.23 Raining. Windy. Cold. Octobre is out there. Should be an interesting drive when I leave here.

Sun.14.Oct: 1.08 At work, they tell me I have a calming effect on Mme. Truth us, she talks to and with me. Tonight she told me of rib pain she’s had all along but couldn’t communicate it. And PJ attacks me, Silas gets in a stab, Nancy backs away, and I help… help. I really am a good person. If Death is to come, I can take that with me. FTW! – 4.10 The rain is falling. Mme. is resting. It is all good. – 5.30 Calm. Quiet. A great night. Rain, not snow. I have to find 8$ for bus fare on Monday, I’ve 10$ to get me through the week, and I’m waiting to be pulled over because I’ll be arrested for theft of the car. Why not? Well… the BDM is available. – (Mon.15.Oct: 4.10) And so, the day did and did not go well. I made the trip back to the house (note: not “home” as I no longer really feel this is my “home” any longer and the tension round here is almost abominable… for reasons I can’t quite figure but…) with-out incident but with a stop for the last pack of cigarettes I’ll be buying for the next week. The bus fare to BTV has truly wiped me out, financially. Done. Alas… And I came into the kitchen from Hell, as per usual. I still cannot understand why there’s just no time for Silas to clean his messes, yet, there’s plenty… no… more than plenty of time to sit at the computer “gaming” and chatting. This place will be over-run by insects and vermin before too long. I can only hope that they stay down-stairs. – I got in, got un-dressed and went directly to bed for about 3 hours. I need to be awake during the day so as to be sufficiently exhausted to get to bed at a regular hour. Tomorrow is a 4am wake-up and a day of being captive in BTV… in the rain, again. How wonderful. – These trips to BTV are grinding on my nerves. I’m sick of it all. Truly. Here I am, being inconvenienced repeatedly over this court thing whilst the Days Inn Bitch is simply running her miserable little existence as if I never existed. Well? Well… I suppose that’s the way it’s going to be. And people just don’t or can’t or, more likely “won’t” understand how this is wearing on me. All they see is some grumpy, miserable, whining old guy. Did I expect different? Do I expect different? No. Not really. But I could and do at least entertain a bit of compassion and understanding. My fault. So, once again, I go through it… alone. – On waking, I got even more music together for the iPod… HEINTJE! So much Heintje! In one respect I’m thrilled to have this music back. In yet another, each piece of music I have to retrieve reminds me of what happened to all of the original music, and how I searched for it, paid for it, and lost it. Each melody just rips old scars open again. But the healing provided by having the music back? It’s good. Very good. And it’s rather amusing when I think: I began by trying to get the French music, unavailable here in the States, from Québec, which included music in Italian, which lead to the old music in Hebrew, which some-how spun into music in Spanish and then careened into the old music in German. There’s music in French: Canadian, Cajun, French, Creole; English: American and English; Italian; Jamaican pas-tois; Xhosa and Swahili; Spanish: Puerto Rican, Dominican, Spanish; German; Hebrew; and even Latin. Languages all over the globe. Languages. Many more than just one. There are styles that bounce all over the realm of genres. My mind functions in all of these and yet, I’m surrounded by those who can barely function in the one language and culture they were born into. Meanwhile, all these people who shroud me seem to think me stupid, crotchety, miserable. Just the way they think me selfish and crude, and, in the case of PJ and, in his own way I’m sure, Silas, think me psychotic. Clueless. I don’t know but maybe leaving NYC and the multi-culturalism was a bit of a mistake. No, not really. If I’d had the means to get out of this little hole and up to where I thought I’d be (in the Province to the North where I, and people like me, are a commonality), it would be a lot different and not as strenuous. But no. Not now. For now, I’m trapped, imprisoned, and nobody does, will or can understand that. This is my punishment. That’s how I see it. Anyway, I have the music. Now, if only I could enjoy it. I don’t listen to music much these days. In fact, even when I’m in the car, I listen to CBC… talk, talk, and more talk. There’s no joy in music lately. Even that’s been take from me. – As the day progressed, with me keeping to myself in the room, alone, I did have to get to the kitchen at one point to get something to eat. I’m not hungry these days but I know that I must eat something, put something into this body that I hate so much, to have the strength to keep going with the onslaught that never ceases. And sure enough, just as I get to the kitchen to grab something quickly, I have to tolerate the interceptions. Why? Why is it that Silas has all the time in the world to get what he wants in there (and not the time to at least keep the place neat) and yet, he’ll wait until I get in there, in a rush, and at that point, HAVE to reach into here and there, in front of me, around me, just “there” always, to slow me down? I try to think of it as: He’s so unaccustomed to being alone and I’m so accustomed to NOT being around anybody else that, when I come down, he sees it as his opportunity to socialise with people… or at the very least… me. In that respect, I rather feel badly that I’m not more a part of his life here. But, for the most part, I’d rather be a part on my own terms and at a time when I’m not in the middle of something other. (That never seems to happen… I’m never not in the middle of something other. That’s been my entire life… existence. Always “multi-tasking”. It’s “me”.) I shouldn’t resent his presence. But when we do have the time to be together, the thought at the top of my mind is: This house is a mess and he takes NO responsibility for his own share of maintenance. It bothers me terribly. It’s as if I’m expected to be his “Parent” and right now, I’m not in the mood. – Tonight, I threw 3 eggs and some bread into a pan, quick fry, add molasses and shoved it down my throat. Swallowing anything solid has become an effort. It’s as if my own body wants nothing to do with any of it. My body is rejecting the nourishment. I have to consciously swallow, and even then, food just seems to stick, stop somewhere along the path so as not to make it to the stomach. I remember, that’s what the medics say happens in cancer: the body knows it’s time to check out and begins to simply reject any attempts to keep it going. I’m not thinking that I have cancer, although, there’s no telling and I don’t want to know. But maybe this depression (and let’s not jump on that in a psycho-babble manner, I believe I’m entitled to some kind of depression, all things considered here) is the thing that’s telling me: Let go, check out, get out, it’s time. I don’t know for certain, and more… I don’t care. – Jumping through the day: This evening, Silas picked up a pot and noticed that there was food left on it. He’d just finished “cleaning” that pot. Ah ha! He noticed! He’s been doing that ever since we got here! Filth and food. I say nothing more. He noticed that the kitchen floor is “sticky” and can’t figure why. Why? Because I haven’t had the time nor energy to wash it. HE spends the time in this house. His little spills that never get cleaned. Well then, OK. As the time went along in the kitchen, he mentioned a new movie, “Ringo”, that he wanted to watch tonight. And then came the whammy: He opened the fridge and noticed: It’s almost EMPTY! Fine… but then he says: “I told Hillary we have food and we don’t have food.” I TOLD HILLARY WE HAVE FOOD? WE DON’T HAVE BUTTER, WE DON’T HAVE BREAD (save what I baked), WE DON’T HAVE MEAT, WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF EGGS! LITTLE TO NO MILK! RIGHT! WE DON’T HAVE FOOD! Why? BECAUSE “WE’RE” NOW FEEDING HILLARY! Hillary comes in, with-out knocking, stands in the kitchen or goes to Silas’ room and feeds… not only on the food that Silas brings in, but on the food that I BRING IN! I WORK 12-HOUR SHIFTS WITH NOTHING TO EAT BECAUSE WE’RE NOW FEEDING HILLARY! HILLARY, who ignores me for the most part, has NO respect for the house that is NOT hers, and comes in HERE to be warmed by the oil that I’ve paid for and arranged for! Meanwhile, I have NO money, no safe car, and now? No FOOD! THIS is how it’s going to be round here? I should think NOT! Not for very much longer anyway. In fact, it’s so bad now that this is the last thought that went through my mind as I tried to get to sleep tonight! I do NOT need this added bull-shit! Let’s add: not only is the house a mess, the mail sits in the box for days on end until I get it, I had to arrange for the oil to heat this place so that the thermostat can be shoved up whilst HILLARY is here… and now, I get to work the 12-hour shifts and still have to get up at 4am to get some bus into BTV driving a car that will have me facing even more charges (thank you Doug you shit) and I asked “Could you please browse the Internet to check for affordable cars?” and that won’t happen. Not even a simple web-browsing? I think this covers it for right now. Let’s move along: PJ… Twitter is now splattered with all sorts of accusations and vitriolic attacks on me and my person and reputation. 175 “followers” have witnessed that and it won’t go away. Nancy wants access to this journal now and I don’t much feel like sharing this any longer. It’s perceived as nothing but a pity-party-bitch-fest instead of just noting the facts. So why share in an ocean of apathy? It just doesn’t make sense. I see me as helpful, to the point of my own destruction, it’s my impulse to help. But this is the “reward” received for all of it: constant, continuous, continual barrages of attacks… and apathy. Accusations based in and on nothing. Yes, I’m tired of it, weary from it and fed-up with it all… ALL! And so, it’s MINE now. Just some ether-dump to get it out of ME so that I can go on with trying to put on the façade that nothing is bothering me, so that I can conduct jovial conversation face-to-face and give the World what it expects and wants because, if I even broach the reality, I’m attacked… brutally. So be it. – Well, on the up-side, (Jewish tradition): I got the white paper on the wall tonight. It’s blank. It’s white. It’s waiting for pencil or pastel or something creative. My mind is a void though. I have my “wants” when it comes to the art I hope to put on it. But all ideas crash. There’s a blank wall there, waiting… and I’m rather happy… Soon, there will be something more… something from in-side me, something I’ve created. Something for ME to enjoy! Time… I just need TIME! – And so, at about 20.30, I finally just fell into the … ON to the cot, set the alarms and drifted off… Another day… done. Why? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Mon.15.Oct: 4.10 Another damned day commences.

Mon.15.Oct: (Tue.16.Oct:8.15) Honestly? I don’t really know what to say about this Monday. Over-all, it was a wash-out. Ending in a drunk rampage… well… almost. (And this morning, I’m paying for it, to be sure, in that, I can’t type.) So let’s begin with the beginning and see just how far we can take this. – 4.00 and, thanks to getting to bed on time the night before, I woke with or slightly before the alarms. Normal morning routine of procrastinating with coffee and such, and out into the dark of the morning, into the car that threatens to get me put away and bring all of this “Life” to a crashing end. It’s what I have to think about every time I get into that can: am I going to be followed by the one person who has the authority to rip this house and this happiness away from me? And the anger with Doug for having breached his promises. The wheels that are about to drop off the damned thing, the engine that’s probably about to blow at any given moment, the brakes that will, if Creation goes as it does, fail as I pull up to a stop light behind somebody of means who can and will arrange for me to be locked away. Ah… the morning. But, off I go, doing what I must, doing what I can. And this morning, made all the better with thoughts of where I was going: to that Hell-Hole county, to the place where all the shit in my Life began, Chittenden, Burlington. Driving along, in the dark, trying to enjoy the early morning, and all the while, the thoughts of the back-stabbing, the broken promises, and worse, the accusations, the fact that all of this shouldn’t be happening, that I should have gotten that position down the street, I should be walking to work, PJ blowing his psychoses on Twitter, Nancy being dragged into the shit, Silas being depressed and not understanding his dilemma for the moment… the list just goes on. But I go through it all, in silence, keeping it inside me so that the rest of the world shouldn’t know. I remember how Oma said: If you knew all that I keep inside me, you wouldn’t know how to handle it. Yes, I would… Yes, I DO! – But the drive to St. Albans went quite well! I followed the morning commuters, resenting each and every one of them. Their head-lights in my rear-view, their presence on the morning roads. As usual, I looked to see if any one of them would be THE one to take my Life. I looked for the flashing red or blue lights. I pondered what I would do if that’s what I saw. Would it be better to put up with the questioning and the possible booking? Would it be best to just pull the car over, turn off the engine and silently walk (or run) away? Will things be better now that I have a license in this state? I pondered and I drove and I made it to the parking lot. I took a deep breath. And that’s the “normal” course of events. – It wasn’t raining. It was quite windy though. It wasn’t cold, but it was only a touch chilly. I was dressed for rain and cold: flannel shirt over a sweat-shirt and 2 sweat-shirts over that. One of those was the one I’d loaned to PJ, about a year ago, and he kept. I’d needed that shirt, but let him keep in until the warmer months, being under the impression that he needed it much more than I. I’d given it to him rather than “loaned” it. I was an idiot then, I’m a worse idiot now. But I’m learning. – In my “down-time” in the parking lot: I had a tin of pasta for some kind of “meal” today. I had exactly 8$ to my name, no more, no less. It covered the bus-fare and nothing more… nothing less. Just about a quarter of a tank of gas. Not enough to get me to work for this week. No coffee for the day and no money to get any. It was quite the beginning of the day. And then, I’d brought the iPod to listen to, to use at the library to while-away the 6 or 7 hours with nothing to do in Burlington, but I’d forgotten to bring the charger. That would limit use of the iPod in any event. I couldn’t even begin my Journal notes for the day as I usually do. So, no food, no coffee, no money, no diversion. Just the bus, the meeting at the attorney’s office and… the day. I rang to get the balance on y Food Stamps. I could walk to Hannaford’s and get a jar of coffee and a bottle of water. I could get a couple donuts. I had coffee and something to eat! At least… – As for the notes for the Journal? I had pens and I had paper. I jotted as I sat in the car:
“Mon. 7.16 P&R. All things considered, not a bad beginning to the day. Certainly not perfect but not too shoddy none the less. I have no more money than the cost of the bus to & fro. I have no coffee, but I do have enough on Food Stamps to get some. Getting coffee will require a heft walk to the market for coffee & bottled H2O. But I’ll have. And there’s just enough gas in the car for the trip back this evening & only one trip to & from work. (I need at least 3 trips but). It’s not raining, but that’s because I have my umbrella with. It’s windy, but not what one would call ‘old’. I have my iPod & USB. But I don’t have the converter to plug it in for power. Listening will be some-what limited (to the walk to & from market?) so I’m jotting this note on sketch paper, in blue ink. – The drive here was strangely smooth. Made me a touch nervous – too smooth. But I made it. – It always feels strange to be in St. Albans. This place had a certain mystery when I first arrived in Vermont. I spend a lot of time here of late. – Oh, at least I’m not completely exhausted this morning! I actually got SLEEP last night. Only one really major night-sweat though. Yes, they’re back. Hopefully fatal. – 12.52 Sur Lac. Facing the Adirondacks, listening to “Mama I’m Coming Home”. And I SO want to go Home, across the lake, to where the World might not be perfect, but it makes sense, things are done with logic, rationality, sensibility, thought, efficiency, SANITY! I AM A NEW YORKER! I DO NOT BELONG HERE! AND… I WANT TO LEAVE-TO FO HOME! Indeed, I HATE it here. HATE! Simple-minded, lazy, spiteful in-breeds all around me. Proof that anal intercourse can produce off-spring.”
That’s as far as I got with that, it was time to get on the bus. I napped, simply because that’s how my body and my Life runs: I’m so accustomed to not getting enough rest that I take it when I’m afforded the opportunity to do so. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that, for so many years, my source of relaxation and repose was getting on the bus, taking the longest possible route to where-ever, or getting on the train/subway, and, again, taking the longest possible route, so that I could slump into a seat and… sleep. It was too long, too many years of that, and now, it’s become part of my cellular response: sit, slump, sleep. I woke in Winooski. I hate that town now as well. Actually, I hate every town in Chittenden county. I even hate the earth there. If there had been any fond memories of the place, they’ve been wiped-out. Even to the point where there were great memories associated with the “Occupy”, the Hostel and the Bel-Aire, but those too are shadowed heavily. Chittenden. ShitOnDem. The bus passes the streets I walked, with PJ and alone. The river and falls there are beautiful. But they’re in Chittenden. The condos are really quite beautiful, on the river, but Steve lived there. It’s all dark, bleak. It’s all a damned, DAMNED shame. It truly is. – Well, the bus pulled-in at the stop. End of the line, beginning of the shit. Church Street was, as Church Street usually is, rather empty, void of a great many people, save the poor souls from the alleged and improperly-named “shelters” for the Homeless. They’d been tossed at 7am. Even they shoved anger into the fore-front of my soul. The abuse. The lies. The experience. The flood of rage inside me. It just takes over when I’m there. And I walked directly to the office, in the door, up the lift and there I was. – It’s odd, and note-worthy: I saw Chris, my appointment this morning, through the plexi, and some-how, even that removed, something inside me told me that I didn’t like him. There was an almost over-whelming sensation of dislike. – He was only sufficiently congenial with me during our interview. He annoyed me when he asked me to re-hash the events that led to this fiasco, but I thought: it’s a ploy, really, to see if I’ll change any detail on my account of that day’s events. I understand that. But this morning, at this moment, I just couldn’t keep anything bottled any longer and he got only the slightest touch of the brunt of what I’m feeling of late. I told him: I’m fed up with the fact that my Life is being destroyed whilst “she sits on her fat arse, moving along with her life as if nothing ever happened and I have to go through this shit!” Almost condescendingly and terribly patronisingly he replied “I understand and I feel your pain.” Fukall. No! You don’t, you clueless idiot. You DO NOT! But I continued, in the best manor I possibly could this morning. After all, his apathy is to be expected, and compassion is NOT the virtue of the “appointed” and “hired help” in “The System”. I saw him as I saw the “Case Managers” in the Shelter: it’s a job, nothing more, nothing less; no matter what they do or do not do, they get their salary. It’s nothing to them… and I’m nothing to them save, a name on a page to prove that they’ve “done something” in their time in the office. I’m a statistic. Ink on paper. Period. And so, our little verbal intercourse went along for about an hour. He dutifully explained that, to them, this entire situation is just a frivolous as it is to me: there’s no restitution, the event happened, it was rectified and there should be nothing further. But, unfortunately, the State’s prosecutor seems to believe that there’s good cause to “move forward” with this. The punch-line: My case hasn’t even been looked at by the State. I’m not at all that important in the greater scheme of things. There are more important issues that the State is dealing with and I am just a file on a stack. There will be more appearances to come. Possibly, at least 4 more (which means… FOUR MORE MONTHS of this!). At the next appearance, and only hopefully, there will be a motion to move forward and a jury will have to be picked… meaning… I’ll have to appear on several occasions to participate in that farce. More travel, more time, more money that I don’t have. Well, OK then. I let him have it: I make no promises that I will be around for much more of this because I’m already right at the edge of ending it all in the best way I know how: I will do-away with my-self and let the State of Vermont have my life and blood on its own hands. I’m being denied the opportunity to get a better job and, worst of all, to travel to where my heart and soul consider “HOME”. There’s nothing… NOTHING left and that being the case, I give no guarantee that I will even exist for further appearances. So, let Vermont exist with my death in its responsibility. At this juncture, I want to go Home, to NY where I belong, where Life is run in rational, logical sense. But I can’t even do that because I can’t get a job to pay for that move and I can’t afford to keep coming back to this insane state to participate in this Folly. “I understand. You’re not the first person to say that or feel that way. And I make no excuses.” No, you can’t. There is no way to “excuse” Vermont, nor is there any way to “excuse” the psychotic bitch who began all this. No “excuses” are available to any… ANY of you. And this morning, I’m in no mood to be polite about any of it any longer. Vermont is, in my perspective, a tyrant, an evil, an oppressor, a cruel and heartless murderer. And if I’m not the first person to have these negative sentiments, I wonder: ARE THERE BLOOD STAINS ON THE STATE OF VERMONT THAT HAVE GONE UN-KNOWN? HAVE ANY OF THE OTHERS TAKEN THEIR LIVES BECAUSE OF THIS STATE? I wonder. I just wonder. I add to this situation the fact that I’d twice asked for a copy of the Police statement and twice, I was told that a copy would be sent. When I mentioned that I had no idea what the statement contained I was told “Right, I’m going to give you a copy of that today.” This arse hadn’t even had the civility of performing that ONE, slight, easy task! There were no copies sent! Yet ANOTHER breach of Trust! I knew I didn’t like this person, even through the plexi. Now it was confirmed. – The out-come: The prosecutor hasn’t taken the time to review the case or records. There will be a possible 3 out-comes: They will make an offer and I will accept; they will make an offer and I will reject, leading to a trial; they will see it all for the waste of time it is and drop the whole thing. In any event, that is to be seen. Meanwhile, “I will strongly recommend that the lawyer on this case conference with the prosecutor as soon as possible.” BULL-SHIT! PATRONISING BULL-SHIT! As I pointed-out as I left, this is a brutal waste of taxpayers’ money which, to me, on a logical and rational level, is unforgivable. Chris agreed, in his partonising manner. I sat, for a moment, to review the police statement, in the comfort of the office. It was only about 10.00, I had nothing pressing and only a lengthy walk ahead of me. But I just couldn’t sit there any longer. I was annoyed, angry, despondent. (I use that term a lot of late. It’s appropriate.) I left. – On the streets of Burlington, I headed down toward the Hannaford’s market. Even in all the hatred I have for this place, it’s familiar. As I walked I thought: There will be no more “congenial chat with ANY ‘native Vermonters’ from now on. There is no cause to be considerate of them. Now my disgust has come to the surface and there will be no ‘benefit of doubt’ in their favour. After all… there isn’t any being given to me! Let them rot. I won’t go out of my way to be nasty. But I certainly will not extend ANY courtesy to ANY of ‘them’… Vermonters have now become ‘THEM’. And… Fuk ‘THEM’ as they fuk me. – AH HAH! As Fate would have it, my stroll down the street took me past Marge’s! A dread came over me as I realised this. I don’t want to talk with her. I want nothing to do with her. She, personally, as far as I know, did nothing against me. But she’s very much a part of this county and this town. And I want nothing to do with any of that. Besides, she’s friendly with Doug and HE is something I truly view as a knife in my ribs. Association is enough. My hatred spills onto her. But I made it past the house un-noticed. – En route I passed the Bel-Aire, a place of peaceful and lovely memories. I painted there. I “Lived” there. Robin had made me feel welcome. I will always feel obligated to thank her for her kindnesses. Unfortunately she wasn’t in when I stopped. I chatted, briefly, with the House-keeper. Even she was kind. How terribly sad that my cynicism extends to her. I was polite… period. She deserves none of my courtesy other than in a business manner. She may or may not be a “Vermonter” and the only reason I will maintain some degree of decorum is because she “may not” be a Vermonter. Still, it was a nice diversion for the while. – At Hannaford’s, I got my coffee, my water, my donuts and had trouble with the self-serve check-out, as per usual at this Hannaford’s. But that was quickly remedied and I was off, strolling back toward BTV, eating my donuts en route. A brief stop at the defunct exit of the 189 to make coffee in the water bottle and continue the trek. As I walked along, having decided to sit at the lake for a while, BLISTERS! MY FEET WERE BLISTERED! How lovely! It was terribly warm, I was soaking with sweat, I was dehydrating now, and now, blisters. Just appropriate to the place I so hated being in. But… there was nothing to be done to change any of it. Just keep walking. Walking. Just as I’ve done SO many times in the past. Walk… – This time, as I passed Marge’s, she was sitting on the front porch. I simply continued to walk past the house. I don’t know that she did or did not recognise me and frankly, I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. I thought: I’m in BTV and there’s a change I may have to encounter Janice or Doug. This entire bloody state is so small there’s no avoiding any possibility of seeing hated people as well as good people. And I’m trapped here! TRAPPED! My anger, rage and hatred just increased… and so too, the pain in my blistered feet. – Finally, made it to the shores of the lake. I kept thinking “river”… the shores of the “river”… I’m a “River Baby” and it’s heart-warming. But THIS lake was a source of comfort and some joy when I arrived. This lake is “The Champlain”! “The North Country”! And now, the best thing about it is the view it provides me… to NEW YORK! THE ADIRONDACKS. REAL MOUNTAINS! HOME. – I sat for several hours at the park, sketching ideas for the paper on the wall in “my” room. I listened to music. I avoided all the passers-by. It got over-cast, windy, chilly. The sweat in my clothes became cold. It was uncomfortable. I thought: I will not die in discomfort, but what a lovely opportunity to go “Home”… the lake has a Northerly current which will draw me “HOME” to Québec and, the current will draw me out, into the lake and probably across, bringing me back to New York. In any event, I will be taken away from Vermont… and there’s nothing wrong in that. A note to keep handy in mind. The Judiciary of Vermont may believe that they can confine me, but… as I later thought, on the bus coming back North:
***** Vermont may be able to confine me and keep me from moving horizontally over the Earth… but they CAN’T keep me from moving vertically, either up or down… in Death, I will leave… vertically. *****
As I sat there, there was a break in the clouds, a small break that let a sliver of sun-light bathe the Adirondacks. Suddenly, they went from shades of grey, they burst into beautiful colours! The sun shone ONLY on the Adirondacks! It was moving, comforting, consoling. There, across the grey waters, was the land of my birth… it is “Home”… New York. I am a New Yorker and there, across the waters IS, IS my “Home”. And so, there I sat, chilled-through, having my cold coffee, sketching and listening to music until it was time to climb the hill to the bus stop… and I still had 90 minutes to go… for all intent and purpose, I was back to existing as the Homeless person I was. I’m thankful for those days now. They prepared me for times like this. – The wait for the bus began slowly. I sent text notes to Silas to let him know a bit about the morning’s events and to keep in touch. It helped to pass the time. I was cold, damp and fatigued. I was in pain from the blisters on my feet. – On the bus, it was warm, comfortable. I got the iPod, I go the music, I dozed… – The trip was MAGNIFICENT! The sun was setting. *There were heavy, dark grey clouds in the sky… only over the Vermont side of the lake but on the New York side, the sun shone a beautiful, brilliant, awe-inspiring light gold! It swashed across the trees on the Vermont side, illuminating the yellows in the leaves on the trees! My New York sun was shining across, to me, on me. My New York sun touched me! It was SO comforting at a time when comfort was something I so desperately needed. As this happened, Daniel Bélanger sang “Tu peux partir” on the iPod:

Daniel Bélanger
TU PEUX PARTIR

	Le monde peut quitter le monde quand il veut Partir où bon lui semble quand il veut Faire d’avril un mai, d’un mai un novembre tout est dans la manière, dans la manière TOUT EST DANS LA MANIÈRE TOUT EST DANS LA MANIÈRE TOUT EST DANS LA MANIÈRE
	Tu peux quitter le monde quand tu veux aller où bon te semble quand tu veux Chercher ton bonheur loin de moi, ailleurs mais il y a la manière, la manière… MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE
	Tu dois te risquer à toi-même accéder à ton monde Celui qui te fait plaisir en dehors du rêve C’est tout ce que je peux te dire c’est tout ce que je peux te dire Tu peux partir… MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE MAIS IL Y A LA MANIÈRE Tu peux quitter le monde mais il y a la manière…

Yes, I most certainly can… if and when I feel I’m good and GOD-damned ready. I have that choice, that freedom, that liberty, that right. And THAT is what keeps me going… keeps me going. I will NOT perish here, in this state! I WILL get HOME. And there’s nothing and nobody to stop me! – Well, the car was still in the parking lot when I arrived and the trip back was harrowing… as per the usual anxieties and trepidations. But this evening I took a different route, through the hills and meadows and farms. It was a delight. As I drove along I remembered when Nick and I were breaking-up, and I thought the World was ended. Mum told me to “come home”, “take a different route”, take my time and when I got there, we’d go out for a bite of dinner. This evening, I remembered it all, as I took “a different route”. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed to get the shit out of the mind. This evening, it was a charm. – Silas loaned me 40$ for what was supposed to get gas and smokes. Well, as the evening progressed, it got stuffed into a bottle of Smirnoff (and smokes)… Chris’ words about me not being the first person to come to (to LEARN to) hate Vermont just wouldn’t leave. I did a bit of Internet searching… and sure enough, blogs and all sorts of things out there! This is a HATED HATEFUL state. Silas too is having a tough time here and I’d thought how strange that BOTH of us come from the WEST… I, from across the lake and he, from across the continent. Westerners, us. I went down-stairs to share a bit of laughable info on the matter only to find Hillary’s arse planted on the chair in his room, with her little bong, smoking… in his room, her illicit drugs. (Meanwhile, I’m aware of my cigarette smoking in my room and try all to keep that from permeating the house… because of the odour and because Silas has such terrible sinus troubles… But SHE has the bloody inconsideration to park her fat, disrespectful arse IN HIS ROOM to smoke her shit! It didn’t settle well with me but I let it go… for the while.) I made my statement, grabbed 2 slices of pizza that Silas had gotten “for us” as his text read, and returned up-stairs to continue reading some of the most entertaining posts on the subject of hating Vermont. Some actually had me laughing, but inside, the anger kept building and I just wanted to get it out of my system and out of my mind for tonight. I took the 40 and headed for a stroll… to the gas station/dépaneur/liquor store/guns and ammo store. I managed to get out and back in to the house with-out notice and so, I grabbed my juice from the kitchen and, up-stairs, poured my-self a light drink. I didn’t want to get shit-faced… just relax! And so it went, and I did, and the edge of the day disappeared and all was rather well… until… I went back down-stairs to find Silas alone. The bitch had gone. He was getting ready for bed. Then he mentioned that the electric bill was more than double last month. Comes as no surprise to me: We have oil for heat but he keeps using the electric heater in his room… so do I because we had to figure how to re-set the thermostat to maintain the warmth in the house. It kept setting the temp to 60F. But it was remedied and the electric heaters shouldn’t be necessary. But he continues to use his. I don’t blame him. He’s not accustomed to the chill of The North Country. So, we’ll take that as it is. Not a problemme. But THEN! He comes out with “Please watch your Vermont-bashing in front of Hillary. It offended her.”! WHAT THE FUK? HILLARY? OFFENDED? I SHOULD WATCH MY WORDS FOR HER COMFORT AND CONVENIENCE? AND WHY? “She’s my friend.” says he. WRONG NIGHT! WRONG TIME! WRONG NO MATTER HOW YOU LOOK AT IT! JUST WRONG! MY FLOOD-GATES JUST DISINTEGRATED AND, UNFORTUNATELY, HE GOT LAMBASTED WITH ALL THAT I’D BEEN KEEPING UNDER TIGHT SCRUTINY FOR… WELL… SINCE I ARRIVED HERE! I shouldn’t have said it all under the circumstances, but it went right into a TOTAL MELT-DOWN on my part, including and not limited to the slamming of doors. THAT led into yet ANOTHER MISTAKE on his part. I’d come up-stairs, wanting so much to just leave the house and walk, but couldn’t because of the painful blisters on my feet, the result of the shit of the day that I’d wanted to rid my-self of this evening. So, I resigned to starting some art on the paper I’d hung on the wall when… the knock on the door… I opened the door and dear Silas came out with even MORE poison: “I have to ask you not to slam doors. I’m stuck in this lease for a year and this isn’t my property and I don’t want to be responsible for any damage.” BANG POW SHOTS FIRED! WAR WAS DECLARED! AND I HAD NO RESOURCES TO AVOID DEVASTATION. Tonight dear Silas got told the WHOLE situation: the disregard, the disrespect I’ve tolerated all along. He got told that, I will afford his Hillary, his “friend” more respect and consideration when SHE PAYS for the food she consumes, and pitches in for the heat she enjoys here and NOT before! I told him ALL. It did… devastate him… and now… I have to live with that guilt as well. He told me that he doesn’t want to be “in the middle” of me and her. I told him that if he DOES get in the middle, it’s HIS responsibility, not mine. I’ve managed to keep it all to my-self all along and will continue to simply avoid her as I have done and that there’s no cause for him to become involved. I told him that I resent the fact that she comes and goes with-out even the decency or consideration of knocking. I view her as White Trash that came from White Trash and that that opinion will never be changed. I resent the fact that I have to walk around here, making certain that I’m presentable, just in case she happens to barge in, un-announced and with-out the consideration of a knock on the door, that she feels she has as much freedom in THIS place as she does in hers. I also made it quite certain and clear that if she has the audacity to approach me or addresse me in the wrong manner, that there WILL be a battle, the likes of which has never been seen out-side the City of New York and that there will be NOTHING left when I’m done! It is ALL in the open now. And it certainly has done its damage. – Wrap-up? Silas, like me, took it to him-self. “I wanted so much to help you get out of all the shit you’ve had to put up with lately. I wanted to give you a place where you can be happy. But I keep failing.” No, Silas, you don’t. I told him: He’s the Greatest Blessing I’ve had since coming here. Others have lied, turned their backs, but he hasn’t. HE got me here, so close to HOME and for that, there is no way that I could ever thank him enough. And this is all the brutal truth. What he doesn’t know is just how much I’ve come to actually love him: as a son and, a little bit as a “spouse-kind-of-mate”. He doesn’t know just how important he actually is. And I don’t know how to put it to him with-out it sounding “strange”. So I cut me short of saying. At any rate, the night ended with great hugs. I wanted, so much, to just sit with him, hold him, cradle him. He’s facing so much that’s so new and strange to him. I have an advantage in that, this might be a different state with different people and fewer functioning minds, but it’s not too far from something “familiar” to me. For him, how-ever, it’s ALL very nothing similar to the culture he’s used to and the responsibilities associated with it are new. He’s accustomed to being with and around others. I am not. And yes, I AM old and set in my ways… while he is getting “older” and becoming set. We have a lot to work on… and I believe, we have a lot to work with. It will take time. – I came back up-stairs for a while to have another drink. He went to bed. – By about 1.30, I was exhausted. I’d been up from since 4.00 and was approaching 24 hours. The lights went out, the room, a mess, me, not caring. – What a bloodyfukking miserable day. Truly. Yet another one… here… in this bloodyfukking state of nothing that even slightly resembles any sort of rational reality. Done.

Tue.16.Oct: 23.09 The house is quiet. My door is open. It’s been a day. Yes, it has… been a day. I’ve finally gotten the pencil out-line done for the very beginning of the wall. I planned on using the pastels that Debbie had given me, but the black is missing. It was missing when she gave them to me. No problemme, really. They’re oil pastels and I don’t like the way they don’t blend. So, there’ll be black-n-white on the wall. I’d thought of using my charcoals for that. Nope. Apparently they got left in NY. So, no charcoal. Thinking Nr.2 pencil. I’ve done OK with that in the past and there’s that magnificent, highly detailed sketch of Manhattan in the window of one of those souvenir rip-off joints on 5th avenue that is just breath-taking… done in Nr.2 pencil. So? We shall see where this leads. Hey! It took me a forever just to get the stencil for the fleur de lis sketched and traced. I’m in no particular rush at this point (though I do wish I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow night, I could work on the wall… I want to do SOME art!). – Got that done and then pulled the floor coverings in the room up to wash. REALLY WASHED the kitchen floor. It NEEDED it! I’m not doing too much cooking of late, not eating too much either, for that matter. I’m seriously considering a “Hunger Strike” until this court issue is settled. Intake of nothing more than is essential to continuing my work with Mme. at the best level possible. Lately, I have to force food down my throat as it is so, ceasing the food all together won’t matter. My appetite is gone and every time I try to eat, it’s an effort. But there was all kinds of shit on the kitchen floor. “Somebody” just doesn’t seem to notice things like dirty dishes in the sink (many in there even as I type), or spilled food on the floor. He did notice on Sunday night though when his feet stuck. He did offer to wash the floor. But at least now I know it WAS clean. The kitchen floor was followed by a good oil-soap wash of my floor and the stairs. Thankfully, I’m the only one to use the stairs, since there’s nothing up here but me. So, there’s cleanliness… or… there “was” for a while. – This evening, when Silas came in from work, sure as shit, Hillary followed him in. I avoided going down-stairs in spite of having some wash in the dryer. As I was putting my room together, Silas came up the stairs. Seems Hillary is “cat-sitting” for a pregnant cat and she brought it with her! Rather immediately after I’d washed the kitchen floor. Anyway, seems also that the cat went missing. Good thing it didn’t go missing up the stairs. It would have gone missing out the window, to be sure. Alas. And so they, Silas and Hillary, locked themselves in his room for a while and then, Hillary left. – Silas came up to tell me that his hours have been cut AGAIN! And he’s worried about making rent for November. Me? I was hoping to go for a car with this coming cheque of mine but now it seems, that’s not going to be possible. I can’t keep driving the Ford much longer. One of these days I’m going to get SLAMMED by the authorities. Oh well… if I go up for Grand Larceny, Silas will be worrying all the more about making rent (or, he’ll have Hillary move in). There’s also the matter of being down to less than a quarter of a tank of heating oil? And my storage bill is now over-due. The phone has to be paid… my phone. I can’t help but think: Gee, I was the one who encouraged Silas to get the job he has. He was making very good money, and he was eating very well… at the local restaurants, and pissing-away extra money on his Hillary. Well, now his hours are cut (drastically), and although I’m making considerably less that he, my hours are on the increase. And I’m NOT eating, or buying or what-have-you. Today he said that it crosses his mind that he’s being taught a lesson about something (with the decrease in hours) but… he just can’t seem to figure what it is. (10 cents a dense.) Me? I’m keeping my mouth shut on this. No sense to discuss. – Tonight, we watched a movie for a bit and as I left his room I noticed the fan wasn’t blowing from the furnace! I went down to the basement to check the oil level and to see what was going on with the boiler. Interesting: when I got back up from the basement, Silas’ door was shut… he’d gone to bed. I told him the fan wasn’t blowing… I guess he doesn’t care about such things. No understanding about these kinds of things. Oblivion must be wonderful. But then, he’s got his head stuck up Hillary’s butt a bit. So I suppose that’s all that really matters. As for me? I act on sheer selfishness: if the fan’s not blowing, I’ll go cold. That’s not happening. If the plumbing goes, it means an inconvenience to me. That’s not happening. If there are dirty dishes in the sink and I didn’t eat, that’s none of my concern. If HIS bills don’t get paid, I don’t care. If we run short of oil, I’ll go cold. THAT is MY concern and I’ll put oil in the tank before I’ll be concerned about much else round here. (Oh, when I realised that Hillary was here… again… the thermostat went down to 58F. She’ll not sit here in comfort. Not after I told Silas that if she’s going to become a permanent fixture round here, I won’t be paying for HER consumption of food or heat or electric or… other-wise.) – And so, that pretty much covers today. It was busy. It was occupied. And now, I’m trying to exhaust me so that I’ll sleep a bit later in the morning. Another 12-hour over-night coming tomorrow at 19.00. It’s tough right now… 2 smokes left and there isn’t a store open for about 20 miles. I’ll be fine. I revert to the Shelter days. – Speaking of which, I keep thinking of the NYer attitude I’m developing here of late. Some stoicism is returning and I owe a great deal of that to Daniel Bélanger and “Tu peux partir”. That song came out at just the right moment and I found it at a perfect time. So… laissez les bon temps rouler! (as the Cajuns would put it). – Well, and well, that covers this day and now, I’m really rather tired. I think it’s time for a nap… and then another during the day tomorrow, followed by work. It’s tough, but somebody’s got to be the adult in this house.

Wed.17.Oct: 10.23 I should be sleeping. I should have stayed under the covers. Today is a 12-hour shift. But I’m awake. – This morning, more research on the mural material. Québec. HOME. I’m feeling extremely suffocated this morning. I’m feeling trapped. I’m feeling imprisoned. I’m feeling enslaved. This morning, I can actually feel some part of my being, like a spirit or soul, pulling from inside, ripping at itself to rip itself out and away from my physical body. It’s true. There’s something, some part of what is that which is “me” that’s straining to rip itself out or off of or away from “me”. There’s a some-what over-whelming sensation of Death, as if this spirit, this soul knows that the body won’t “be” much longer and that energy inside “me” is urgently trying to set itself free of “me”. The border is only a mile away, and this morning, that proximity is palpable. There’s a part of me that wants to go HOME this morning. But I can’t. I can’t because, even though I’ve not had the opportunity afforded to murderers and child molesters, wife beaters, serial killers, drug lords and the likes, in the state of Vermont, I have been found “guilty” and punishable. I am confined, trapped. Not only has D. Owens made this so, but the state of Vermont is prolonging the situation. Vermont, the state, is destroying me. With their own approval, D. Owens and the state are executing me. But rather than doing-so quickly and humanely, by lethal injection, electrocution, decapitation, or simply crushing me… D. Owens and the state of Vermont are sitting, like drooling, sadistic terrorists, watching me, “me”, die, slowly, excruciatingly, painfully. Although there are a multitude of reasons and causes for me to remain and continue, this morning, it’s extremely difficult to avoid the feeling that *I* must make the move to stop this. All I want to do is go HOME… but Vermont has seen to it that I can’t… D. Owens and the state of Vermont have made it certain that I am separated from the place where I find Peace. Well, as I thought just days ago: they’re able to stop me from going HOME by travelling horizontally, but they can’t stop me from going HOME vertically. Soon… and very soon. – Wed.17.Oct: 23.43 at work. Almost down to empty on gas. 6$ to my name. Tomorrow I’ll have to get to RadioShack to return the audio cord I’d gotten to listen to the iPod at the house… 10$ back (I hope) for gas. Sunday is pay-day but Storage is going to cost me about 130$. Silas wants 230$ toward rent and utilities. 200$ for heating oil. I’m already in the negative and I haven’t even gotten paid yet. Just no catching-up. – Today was a pretty good day… I did get Mark O’Connor: Appalachia Waltz! for the iPod. 3 notes into the music and memories came SLAM-CRASHING! I sobbed… alone in “the” (not “my”) room. But it’s good to be able to hear it again. – And I’m well on the way into the sketch on the wall! It’s all going to be done in pencil. All the oil pastels are accounted for but I really don’t like the effect. Water-colour would have been nice but the paper won’t take them. Pencil will take a while. Distraction from the current bull-shit. – Just noting Silas offered to run to NY to get my things from Storage. There’s SO much there that I could use right now. But I know… he won’t come through. I’m not angry about it. I know better. I resent the fact that he even said he will make the run. It wasn’t an issue for him to addresse. But I KNOW it’ll never happen. Maybe it’s better we don’t go. I’m not certain I’ll stay in VT much longer. So… – The day did go rather well… I got a wash done. Washed the “dishes” I have up-stairs… in the face basin. I’m falling back into “Shelter”. And, since Hillary decided to “drop in” and Silas decided not to put up the dishes from the Drain-board, nor wash his dishes in the sink, I made my take-along coffee in the shower! – The drive to work went well. – But now I need to stay awake! I woke at about 7.45 this morning, went through the day, non-stop and came to work… no nap. I’m dozing here already. Not good. RadioShack opens at 9 tomorrow, I get out of work at 7. RadioShack is 10mins away. I’ll have to sit in the parking lot fir almost 2 hours, then drive to a gas station and then to the house. Bed maybe by 11.00. Wow! ANOTHER 27-28 hours of no sleep. Yup… I miss the days in the Shelter. But, being in VT hasn’t been much different. Just that here, no parks to go to for sleep and the libraries are f’shit. But truth? The Shelter… I miss even the worst moments… NYC. – Quick note: This morning, when I woke, instead of thinking “Gee, coffee sounds like a wonderful idea.” my first thought of the morning was “Oh good! I have vodka. I want a drink!” Thanks Vermont. You bloodyfukking pieces of arse-shit… the kind that dries and hangs on your arse hairs.

Thu.18.Oct: 8.10 at Hannaford’s/RadioShack, waiting for 9.00 when RS opens. The sky is almost clear, brilliant sun-rise, cool and quite windy and my stomach is SO OFF. 3 trips to the loo before leaving work this morning. I’m not sure if the stomach trouble is from the burger I shoved in before leaving for work, the 6 (yes, 6) ice creams I had through the night, nerves (associated with this car: not knowing when it’ll blow up, knowing that Doug pulled insurance and reg and that he waited til last moment to say so, tyres… And, as I “tap” all this into the iPod And now, I keep nodding-off, really exhausted. Can’t sleep in this parking lot. And I surely don’t like being here, alone. – Stopped in Hannaford’s for coffee, yeast, cereal, milk. Not much food at the house, of late. Not much left on FoodStamps either. Alas. I don’t care. – 8.32. When I’ve nothing to get done, time drags. This morning, (and I just nodded again) it’s movinhvm (I noodedijj bv (and am tyoingvcc (This will be one interesting ride to the house this morning. I have no control over the noddings. I’m sitting here tapping and next I know, I’m waking up! – 15mins til the store opens. Then gas into the car. Then to the house. Let’s see if we make it… – (17.38 Wow! I seriously over-slept!) (No Internet in the house. Earthquake in Montréal? They had another this morning. Or… bill-paying? Hmmm… Truth though: My phone service has been in “Service Restriction” and “Emergency Calls Only” mode from since 16.00… when I finally woke. – Ah, how I luv living in Buttfuk, VT.) – Did I make it this morning? Indeed. Returned the wire, after a thorough interrogation at the RadioShack. Honestly, they practically make one feel down-right criminal with the questions! Stopped just short of “Are you circumcised?” But, out the door with my10$, across the road for gas at a bargain price of 3,89/gal! and off and away! into the sun-rise. – Silas was home today, the kitchen door open when I arrived at almost 10.00. It was rather cute, nice, “homey” to arrive to an open kitchen door and him, bare-foot in the kitchen. But I was exhausted and he wanted to talk… politics. It makes me feel rather guilty: He’s so “people” and I’m so “Hermit-sats-bugger-off!”. It’s my past: so accustomed to solitude and self-reliance… Times like these bring me back to the pump-sheds of StewartHgts and sitting, alone, on the tin roof. I “see” me there, alone… I can still “be” me there, on the dirt road, in the meadow, alone. I wonder: is that my true “safe place”? It was, back then, some 50 and 50-plus years ago. And today, I’m still that little boy, sitting on the pump-house roof, alone. Poor Silas… stuck with this. – 21.45 OK! Well look at this! Awake! I still have no idea why the Internet went off earlier… but I do have a tiny suspicion (somebody’s getting laid tonight… Oops! How RUDE! – of me… comme si j’donnes un shit). But here it is, up and running (like I should hope somebody is… OK! E-NUF!). – There’s a pack of smokes, thanks to the change I keep dropping round the place. I actually got out of the house and to the dépaneur (I shouldn’t call it that… Québec-style… this fukhole state doesn’t deserve the promotion). The young lady there was very sweet this evening. I guess she’s figured I’m here for the while and not just breezing through. Isn’t that just so White of her? I can’t be “nice” or “kind” or even “semi-considerate” of these people… People? Benefit of the doubt, I suppose. I’m just a little bundle of mobile HATE! I suppose this is how terrorists are born. Makes one re-think their motives. Something had to set them off in the first place. And this charming (I puke) state and its bull-shit can certainly conceive its own brand of Terrorists… One thing has to be said for Vermont: My allegiance and adoration to Québec has NEVER been so STRONG, so DEEP, or so HOT as it is these days. Nor has my dislike and distaste for the U.S. Congratulations go to the State of Vermont for giving birth to yet another Anti-American… I mean “*STAUNCH*”!!!!! – And so, that said… Mr.B. is “entertaining” a lady-friend this evening. Actually? I’m rather glad he’s found somebody who’s willing to come here, to be with him. It’s the way it should be. I only hope, like all Hell, that THIS one isn’t as cheap, stupid, nasty and just generally worthless as some of the others he’s managed to align him-self with. He deserves a nice woman who will treat him with kindness, consideration, respect and patience. But, as it is with all, “Time” will tell. As Mum used to say “We’ll see…” – As for me? Well, the “mural” on the wall is coming along rather nicely. I’m taking this break now because my neck is about to snap from working with pencil, on a wall, in “that” position. Earlier, I managed to stumble upon a couple of tunes…Le Mémoire de Québec (Loco Locass), Hymne á Québec (Loco Locass) and Pour Mon Pays (Sir Pathetik), The music is hardly my particular « style » (as I typed the titles of the songs, I changed the language on the computer! It’s gone French! WOoHOo!) but the LYRICS are amazing! Ever so patriotic! Encouraged and inspired me to get right to the mural. I can’t help but think: I have “officially” declared “WAR”! I might go down in this, but I’m sure as shit NOT going down with-out a RAGING BATTLE! (Âllo? Madame Pauline Marois?) Now, today, more than EVER before in my ENTIRE existence, I WANT TO GO HOME! And… one way or another… HOME is where I will go! – And so, the clock passes 22.00. I’m a bit hungry but (a) there really isn’t anything (for me) to call “food”, save my breakfast cereal and (b) I don’t want to go to the kitchen, make noise, and disturb what-ever might (or might not) be happening down there. I’ve got tomorrow morning to eat. Which reminds me: I have to make more bread! I’ve got 2 consecutive 12-hour shifts coming! Goodness me! – I think, if the Internet permits, I’ll post this to the Journal now and, if anything else comes up, I’ll stick it on the end (Oh! That’s funny! “stick in on the end”… as opposed to the way Vermont is treating me which is more along the lines of “stick it UP my end”.) –

Fri.19.Oct: 5.01 Time to get to bed. I’ve just put a “window pane” in my NH sweats and am pissed… but it’s from fatigue and nothing more or less. – Fri.19.Oct: 21.51 at work at the end of another rather brutal, RAINY, WINDY day. I didn’t get to bed until about 5.00 but woke at 9.00! Couldn’t get back to sleep, but laid in bed until almost noon, trying for more sleep. It never came. I gave up, got up and hit the computer, checking e-mails and such, and the routine “auto theft” reports. Is it any wonder my body’s a mess? I have to check every time I need to get anywhere! – Silas was out all day. The “girl-friend” stayed the night. He’d gone out to visit local piot offices in search of work. His office cut his hours to 6 for next week. That’s the way they are. I tried to tell him all along… find other offices. As it is with all, I’m taken for some kind of idiot, until what I’ve said becomes the present time. Then I have to look at that “Wow! I never knew!” expression. No exception with this case. – As we spoke about his day he suggested: He wants a right-hand drive vehicle (to deliver mail for a job he may or may not have or keep?) and I could buy “his”, on installment, for 1400$. I have 98CENTS to my name (only enough gas to get me home tomorrow and NO income until Sunday… AFTER work that I may or may not make it to because of no gas). I told him about the 98cents AND the importance of getting a car before I go to jail. With his reaction and response today, I’m convinced: he’s almost looking forward to me being arrested and going to jail! I’d swear to that on my Mum’s grave! So, my mind and body are back in “Shelter Survival”. Part of his response was to discuss rent, utilities and such. HIS bills (from happy spending on bits of stuff whores whwn he got to VT, and eating at fine-dining establishments). As I pointed out (to his obvious chagrin and dismay): My expenses are currently over 600$… my next cheque won’t cover that. I changed the subject. He went down-stairs to cook. I went to the loo to wash my plastic containers/dishes in the face basin. (Any wonder why I’m in “Shelter” mode? I’m BAAAaaack!) Then on to a small “nap”… another 45 sleepless, restless minutes. I just wanted to vomit most of the day but the water-trots took care of that a bit. My body is SO rejecting food now. I’ve nothing to say about it. The body just doesn’t want nourishment. Period. And I don’t care. Hopefully I’ll just shut down… soon. – A little more work on the “mural” and a blitz of getting music for the iPod. (Fukkin shame I don’t get to listen to it, but it’s there… I’ll be abke to listen to it when I get back to the Shelter in NYC… or with my BDM… when I get HOME. – And so, the day slipped by and into chaos and mayhem. The kitchen sink has been loaded with un-washed dishes ALL week. ALL week I haven’t been able to get a bottle of water because a bottle won’t fit under the faucet because of all the dishes. The counter- tops and stove have been filthy… I don’t cook (can’t anymore for all the mess, even if I wanted to) and I don’t eat… so I will FukkingNOT wash ANY more dishes! So, tonight, because of inconsideration and filth, I packed an empty water bottle and a jar of instant coffee into my lunch bag… coffee for the night… the 12-hour over-night… but no food… no food. Fine. I sent a text to Silas to say we need to discuss the kitchen… tomorrow. He came up-stairs, as I was trying to get out to work! Honestly! “Tomorrow”! I hastily headed out the door. Planned on stopping at the market en route to work to get something to eat (minimal… just enough to keep working), and… the RAIN was pouring down, making driving on treadless tyres even MORE fun! Tired. Hungry. Annoyed. Rain. Questionable vehicle. Bald tyres… Really; bugger me with a cattle prod. -Whilst in market, an apologetic text. I phoned. I snapped. (It hurts me when I do that. Truly, hurts.) A promise to mind the kitchen. We’ll see. Time will tell. But Silas enjoys cooking. And I enjoy that he does. I don’t mean to be curt with him. Still… A WEEK’S WORTH of dirty, un-rinsed dishes? We’ll see what comes of it. This was the second time this same issue was discussed. Me? I want to move. Me? I’m financially trapped… by Vermont. Me? There are moments… Tonight I kept thinking of the BDM in my back-pack (with me always now). It’s on the top of my mind now… always with me. Je peux partir… quand JE veux. – As I left the market, a police action, right where I had to pass! So, I took an alternate rout, got turned round and looped BACK toward the house! Gas almost on empty, pitch dark, rain pouring… late for work. I couldn’t help but think, white-knuckled from the stress:
.A week’s worth of dishes in the kitchen made it impossible to make bread to make food for work and impossibke to make coffee for work,
.I had to leave early to go to market before going to work,
.I go to market and drive into a police action,
.To avoid the police, I take the wrong road, driving through torrential rains on slick roads, bald tyres, insufficient gas,
.Got to wotk late,
.Because of filthy dishes in the sink for a week.
Yes… I’m damned fed up. – Oh, on the road to work, I had the window open to have a smoke. A car comes in the opposite direction, hits a puddle… I got soaked. – And so, tonight Mme’s 2 sons were in from out of state (from away… as these Greencheesers call it) and I arrive late. Great. – And now, 23.44, Mme. is having one of her more agitated nights, I’m exhausted, almost out of smokes until Sunday. There’s enough gas to just barely get me to the house after work… Maybe enough to get back tomorrow night but I’m looking at quite the walk on Sunday morning: to the banque for gas money, pay bills… I’llhave to walk several miles to the banque or… 6 hours to walk to the house to arrive JUST and EXACTLY AT the hour I have to LEAVE the house to come nack to work. Yup… Vermont.?FML. – 23.49 I want to sleep! We’re having a bad night at work… it’s miserably hot in here and the iPod’s acting stupit! Hello… D.e.a.t.h=P.e.a.c.e. Mid-night.

Sat.20.Oct.: (On Monday, 22 Oct. 13.14 Ensbrg Lib) OK. So… following an over-night, 12-hour shift at work, I come “home”, looking forward to a good nap and trying to get back into a regular routine, but no… the BOLT on the back/kitchen door is locked… again… after I’d already told Silas that I don’t have a key for it. Exhausted and only wanting to get to bed, I did the only thing I could think of at the moment: I went in through the back room window which involved opening the whole-window screen and climbing in through the window. Fortunately, the window wasn’t locked and getting in was fine. I didn’t bother to replace the screen or close the window, since, after all, this was the SECOND time I’ve been locked out of the house that Silas insists, repeatedly, I should call “home”. Well, it goes along with the leaving dirty dishes in the sink, using the washer and dryer and leaving clothes in there, waiting for me to clean the floors… all that. Anyway, that is where the day, and the rest of my residence in this house came to a crashing… CRASHING! close. When I got up-stairs, the text messages began, Silas first. I’m just going to quote them, in their order, as they are on the phone. It explains everything better than I can. It begins with the fact that the dirty dishes in the sink were mentioned and then…

Fri.19 Oct
Out: 17.37 – we need to discuss the kitchen situation tomorrow
In: 17.59 – Did not realize I was inconveniencing. Will keep the sink clear for ya man. Sorry
Sat.20.Oct
In: 8.28 – *hugs*
Out: 8.33 – The window bak rm is open U bolted the door locked me out
In:8.33 – Shit I’m sorry
In:8.33 – I’ll fix your keys
In:8.42 I fucked up work for you going in, fucked it up coming back
In:854 – Was it really necessary to break the screen instead of call me?
In:855 – No at this point save it. I’m done. That’s bullsht.
In:9.01 – I get to pay for it with money I don’t have. Thanks you’re a pal.
Out: 9.29: The fucming screen is i vi fine
In: 9.36 – The screen is completely bent foreward, window wide open, the frame won’t sit correctly now
Out: 9.30 – The fucki?nb screenvisv not broken
(Message did not go out) I suggest you look before accusing me
Out: 9.31 – The screen is NOT BROKEN WAts your problem
In: 9.41 – End of my shift I’m putting in my two weeks.
In: 9.45 – Got to pay the screen. What else? My comp probably which I’m still paying off, or both and my clothing and bed because you’ll torch the place
In: 10.02 – You broke my heart Jude. I thought you were a good person, really did. I’m a moron for that. You spit on everything I wanted for you, and made me feel like a puts
In: 10.05 – You respect me as much as the livingroom smells like stale cigarettes, the broken screen, the slamming door, calling Hilary a whore. Want to know why Hilary is a whore? Because she offered to buy me food, pay for my share of the fuel because you shirk your rent and leave it on my back
In:10.07 – And don’t tell me “this is how you’ve always felt” because until walking outside seeing mangled window and bent screen did I realize how misplace my trust and love has been.
In:10.08 – So break it, burn it, throw a tantrum. I’ll be there to pay for it all.
Out: 10.28 – You can have this house. Today I’ve begun looking for another place. I’ll provide notice per lease, continue payments as agreed. Leave me alone. Send your messages in writing.
Sun.21.Oct.
Out: 10.29 – Hi. When you can, would you please get a key for the bolt lock? For the meanwhile. Just in case. Thanks.

Meanwhile, I was down to absolutely NO money, expecting to get paid tomorrow (Sunday) and, because of the events getting to work the night before, having to drive all over the place to get to work (late), the “NO GAS” light was on in the car! So… In addition to all else, I had to call-out for work tonight! Now, Silas and his insanity is costing me INCOME! I’ve really had more of this than I can stand at this point. Add to all of this, the messages that run one after the other came as I was TRYING to get SOME rest! I left the phone on to use the alarm, but the damned thing kept buzzing with all the text messages coming in! I am REALLY AT THE VERY END OF ALL OF THIS INSANITY! There’s something terribly wrong with this child and I’m no longer taking responsibility. – I still had his lap-top in the room and took advantage of that, right away. I gave up on the notion of trying to get any, ANY rest at all and went directly to Craigslist and posted for another place to move to… SOON! Once that was done, Silas got his lap-top, and the paint set and the boots he’d given me back! I put them on the chair in the living-room… with-out fan-fare or other-wise. Just left them there. I BEGAN PACKING! and continued packing through the day. – I don’t know what possessed me to try, but, later this after-noon, I checked the balance at the banque to find that my pay HAD been deposited today! I could have had money, gotten gas and gone to work! But the office had already found somebody to take my shift. It was too late. I’d already lost the day’s income. I was out of cigarettes anyway, so I headed out, on foot, to the local banque to get some cash, put gas into the car, get smokes… Alas… as Fate would have it? The bloody ATM didn’t work! “Unable to dispense cash”! The next banque is in Ensbrg… 10 miles away! But I didn’t dare to drive there, in case THAT ATM wouldn’t give cash either. But I wanted to pay the Little Idiot what he had coming this week (and I wanted smokes), so I decided, at about 17.30, I’d walk to Ensbrg. OK. So it would take me about 2 hours each way, but at least I’d come back with the Little Psycho’s money. And that was pretty much tantamount at this point. I dressed for “in case it rains” and headed out the door… JUST as the RAIN started to fall! It seemed the World was against me today. But… BUT… I remembered I have 15$CDA here! 10 of which is in the newer bills. Those, I’d spend, if need be and if the service station in town (Rchfrd) will take them. – I strolled down to the service station to find that, YES, they WILL take the $CDA! and at about 96cents on the dollar! Not a bad deal! I jaunted back to the house, got 10$ and drive the car down to the pump! 10,42$US is what they wanted. I gave them 10$CDA and 1$US and said “Keep the change. It’s worth it to me.” and I headed down to Ensbrg to the ATM… IN A DELUGE! – Happy days/nights: Money at the ATM! I pulled what I needed and took off, back to Rchfrd. Stopped at Dollar General… GOT A RECIEPT BOOK! I’ll NOT give that slob ANYTHING, ANY LONGER, with-out a receipt for EVERYTHING! – Back at the asylum (which is more what it’s like in there these days than a “home”… even for retards), I wrote a receipt, and carbon. I owed him 200$ on the rent and he wanted 30$ towards the utilities. But the utilities came to about 113$ this month (since he refuses to use the oil heat and continues with the electric heater… and all his cooking on the Foreman grill… my birthday gift to him, in addition to the dinner in Montréal… all of which he’s conveniently forgetting), so I gave him a total of 257,00$, in an envelope, on which I simply wrote “Mr. Burton, Please sign one copy for my records…” I didn’t want him to come up-stairs tonight, but, he did, almost immediately. All I said to him was “You didn’t have to come right up.” He handed me the receipt and left. GOOD! And, since he’d come up, and the door was open, he saw… I AM PACKING TO LEAVE! – That was done. The day was done. I was exhausted… and I had vodka in the room so… a good, hearty couple of drinks were in order tonight… for sleep. That’s what I did. – I can’t take any more of this nonsense, stress, the not-knowing-what-to-expect-next from this psychotic idiot! I wonder if this isn’t why his Mum wanted him out of her house. No matter. The only thing I can be positive about at this juncture is that he’ll be bad-mouthing me all over town and certainly to his Mum and to Hilary. Nobody will come to hear the other side and that will be the end of that. My reputation is completely destroyed, my name will be dirt. But you know what? I don’t/can’t care any longer. It’s done. People will believe him. I won’t do/say anything to anybody about it. I’ll simply journal it here and have done with it. But I will include: Silas Burton? You’re very sick! and I’m very tired.
(I see I had something else documented for today… I’ll keep that here:
Sat.20.Oct: 8.20 This morning, I drove most of the way back to the house with the “Low Fuel” light lit. Yesterday’s excursion to work was almost 50 miles instead of the usual 29 or so, thanks to having to go to the market and then, trying to avoid the police action. So… this morning, instead of having enough gas to get me to work tonight and to the banque tomorrow, I now don’t have enough gas to even get me to work tonight! – Let me add to this, the following: After having told Silas twice, that I do not have a key that works on the bolt for the kitchen door, which is the one we use most frequently to get into and out of the house, I told him (because it happened already once… and is noted here in the Journal) that I will be locked out if he uses the bolt. (The other doors are locked and chained as a general rule.) Well, this morning, after a 12-hour shift all night, and driving almost 30 miles and having the Low Fuel light lit for most of the trip, don’t I get here to find… THE BOLT ON THE DOOR IS LOCKED! If not for the fact that I found a window to climb in through, I’d still be standing out-side or crunched in the car, waiting for somebody to let me in. I can’t use the kitchen for all the dishes laying round, and now I’m locked out of the house? Today I posted an advert on Craigslist… I’m looking for another place in which to reside. – What am I going to do about work tonight? Play it by ear. I NEED the income… now MORE than ever before! I’m taking all this inconsideration to be subtle ways of telling me that my presence in this house is not appreciated and that it’s time to leave. No problemme! Really! At this juncture, it will be a pleasure. I wish I could leave the bloodyfukking STATE! But I’ve been advised that that’s not in my best interest, considering the court appearance(s) to come. Not to mention the travel from NYC to BTV at the whim of the judiciary here. So… here I am, here I’m stuck, here I’m trapped. – And now I get a text: *hugs*? FUKKITALL! REALLY! THE END. Or, as Silas seems to like: FIN. – I’m going to try for some sleep now and figure how the fuk to get to work tonight. – I do NOT need this… ANYMORE! – 10.04 Looking for another place to call “residence” officially today. I replied to the *hugs* by saying that the bolt was on and I was locked out. Said that I had to climb in through the window and what followed was a barrage of:
1. Shit I’m sorry
2. I’ll fix your keys
3. I fucked up work for you going in, fucked it up coming back
4. Was it really necessary to break the screen instead of call me?
5. No at this point save it. I’m done. That’s bullshit.
6. I get to pay for it with money I don’t have. Thanks you’re a pal.
I went down to look at the screen. It’s perfectly fine. In fact, it was a bit bent already, maybe because somebody else had had to climb in. But at any rate, the screen is in the EXACT same condition as it was BEFORE I had to climb in. So I phoned, said that if he (Silas) has problemmes, they are HIS and not MINE and that I have no time for this.
The reply:
1. The screen is completely bent forward, window wide open, the drame won’t sit correctly now.
Me reply: Check before accusing me.
Now, at 10.11 I receive:
1. End of my shift I’m putting in my two weeks.
2. Got to pay the screen. What else? My comp probably which I’m still paying off or both and my clothing and bed because you’ll torch the place.
3. You broke my heart Jude.I thought you were a good person, really did. I’m a moron for that. You spit on every thing I wanted for you, and made me feel like a puts.
4. You respect me about as much as the livingroom smells like stale cigarttes, the broken screen, the slamming door, calling Hillary a whore. Want to know why Hillary is a whore? Because she offered to buy me food, pay for my share of the fuel because you shirk your rent and leave it on my back
5. And don’t tell me “this is how you’ve always felt” because until walking outside seeing a mangled window and bent screen did I realize how misplace [sic] my trust and love has been6.
6. So break it, burn it, throw a tantrum. I’ll be there to pay for it all.)

Sun.21.Oct.: (On Monday, 22 Oct. 13.48 Ensbrg Lib)
Message to Silas Burton:
Sun.21.Oct.
Out: 10.29 – Hi. When you can, would you please get a key for the bolt lock? For the meanwhile. Just in case. Thanks.

I’ve received no reply even up to now, as I type this, and no key. However… the events of Sunday, 21 Oct: I woke at about 8.30 this morning, rather surprised too, since I practically drank my-self to sleep last night. Although, I was in bed by about 23.33. Since I was awake and feeling none the worst for last night’s drinks, I began re-packing, only today, carefully and with purpose. At one point, I strolled down to the banque to see if the ATM was working. I needed some packing materials and a frame for some more art work that I will hang and leave in the house, out-side my door: The word/symbol, in Japanese, for DEATH! (It turned out not half bad, by the way… I’ll have to include a photo when I can.) Well… the ATM now has a hand-written sign “Out of Order” on it! So I had to make due with the money I had left-over from paying the Little Nutjob last night. No problemme. I walked down to Dollar General, which isn’t at all that far. Got paper-towels for packing glass bottles and items and a frame. Strolled back the asylum and went right back to packing. Got the sketch done, and framed and hung. – Tonight though, there were MANY troubles with my e-mails! They weren’t coming through on the iPod! I had to delete the accounts from the iPod and then re-install them. FINALLY! SEVERAL REPLIES TO MY ADVERT FOR HOUSING! I’M THRILLED… although, I really will miss this room and the view and the proximity to the river and the border. But I CAN’T STAY HERE ANY LONGER THAN NECESSARY! THIS IS WORSE THAN ALL THE WORST MOMENTS IN THE SHELTER! – I was feeling rather well about the replies and the fact that the packing is now complete. Interesting: My ENTIRE bit of belongings fits behind the closet door, in a little corner. I “own” nothing! NOTHING! But hey! It’s better for moving… quickly. – I needed a bath tonight too! NEEDED. I thought of going to the shower, down-stairs, but no… Tonight, rather intentionally, I used all the hot water in the tank, for my bath. I’d been at the house, alone, for most of the day. The phone service was COMPLETE SHIT! REALLY! SRAIGHT TALK IS WORTHLESS! No signals all day, no messages all day. I could have been in the house dying with no way to contact help! But… – Off to the bath and there is where it suddenly hit me… I shot an e-mail off:

“Fact: Silas got to VT in August 2011. I met him round November or so. By then, he’d already made brutal enemies of 3 local women. Shortly after, it reached 4, then 5, then I stopped record-keeping. The majority of these women are in VT but he managed to piss-off one in NY (Plattsburgh). SHE some-how git his 500$ digital camera (says he: in a heated argument, he stormed out of her house, inadvertantly leaving it behind). That was back in early Spring, I believe. I offered to go fetch it fir him but he declined. It’s still there. Anyway, his “dating spree” began almost immediately after his plane landed on BTV airport. The enemies began mounting ever shortly there-after. To-date, only 1 has managed to remain… he’s seen her once since early Summer… one night this week past… she came here, spent the night. But that’s not really my point.
I’m now wondering: How can one person date so many and make (all but one) every one an enemy in under 6 months? I mean, he bitched because they all seem to know each-other (mysterious) and he walked into a bar in BTV to find 3 of them sitting at the same table, trashing him.
Is it me grasping for straws or do you see something here too? I have “I love you”, ‘please be careful, you work too much/hard/long’… &c. messages (soon to be journalled) followed by “Stay the fuck away from me!” and ‘go ahead and burn the house down’ and ‘you’ve destroyed my love/broke my heart’ &c. messages. Isn’t that some kind of text-book something?
OK. Just bouncing a thought, but in my humble Psych-Major opinion… something stinx and this time it’s not the garbage in the kitchen.”
Replies (in part):
-sounds like his world is crashing in around him, yes best to leave else you get mixed up in drama or worse Hope he has safe sex!
– prob anti- sad pills but doesnt take them all the time My sis went through it/slept a lot then went crazy shopping/then cried
-yes, sounds like it for sure……..narcissism,neediness, then anger and irrationality…CLASSIC case Too bad

Well, if I wasn’t convinced that I need to get the fuk out of this house, and FAST, I am now! NEED to get away! Truly! – Thankfully, the rest of the night went well enough. I had a drink, got to bed round-about midnight, with a candle burning and… I have to admit… just the bit scared shitless! I don’t know what to expect from this psychotic bastard! He accuses me of being able to “torch” the house but I can’t help but think of that as “projection”… that he’s already planning on getting out, setting the house a-blaze and trying to put the blame on me! I wouldn’t put it past him at this juncture. So, it’s time to get a move-along. As I say, it’s already to the point where I’m scared… actually AFRAID of what he’s capable of doing… and, in the event he damages the house… blaming me for. – Tonight I wonder what his “room-mates” in California had to go through, and if ANYTHING he’s told be about his life out there is true. Like-wise, it makes me wonder about his law-suit against Walgreen’s pharmacy. I doubt that ANY of what he accused THEM of is true. It’s probably all a matter of him refusing to take his meds. Well… tomorrow (Monday) is a day of reckoning for me with much to accomplish. And I need to get out of this house… PROMPTLY!

Mon.22.Oct.: 14.15 Ensbrg Lib. Just a quick beginning to today’s entry whilst I have the time at the library: Woke this morning at about 7.30, the house was quiet, I had my coffee in peace, checked e-mails and got my documentation and such together for the day. I have no idea what the hell is going on round here but it was a rather odd morning. At one point I saw Silas pull up, or at least, his car, in front of the house. Didn’t see him come in or go out though. Shortly after, the car disappeared… but there was music or something coming from his room when I went down to take photos of the window. I can’t figure if he’d actually been in there and is hiding the car, or if he’s planted somebody in the house to keep an eye on me… I DID, before leaving, hear a female voice coming from behind the closed doors. Anyway, I have photos of the window and screen and will hope I have Don’t telephone number so that I can call and have him come over to look at the screen and confirm that I did NOT break/damage it! – Took a walk into town today to go to the ATM and to post my Storage payment (through Novembre) and to post PJ’s belongings to him. I NEEDED to get HIS things out of the house… just in case. – That done… I went back to the house to gather my wits and such. Silas’ car in front of the house and a female voice from his room! Yes… he’s planted somebody in the house… apparently to ensure I do no damage. Stupid little shit. Just so long as nothing of MINE gets damaged… but I’m already prepared for that. – As I was getting me together to get me together to get out of the house… A PARCEL FROM NANC ARRIVED! Tim, the carrier, dropped it on the porch! Arse-holse brain. In the parcel, THREE BEAUTIFUL SCARVES! ALL OF WHICH I’M KEEPING! Books that look as if I might enjoy reading. A card with a 20$… (oh good, I need to think about getting food!). It wasn’t expected til Wed. but I’m relived that it’s here! – As I left to come here, I heard a female voice coming from Silas’ room. I do believe somebody is watching… Well? Let him/her. The truth about Silas Burtlon will come round soon enough. It won’t un-do or un-say any damage done already. But I don’t care. And I can begin my own battle in town… where he has more to loose than I. Gee, today I’m rather happy that my name ISN’T on the lease! – I’m exhausted again. Falling asleep here on the computer. Must toddle. – Mon.22.Oct: 16.36 So Silas just pulled up in front of the house and this rather HUGE female got out of his car. I mean “HUGE”! She waddles rather than walks. Reddish hair, below shoulder length, straight. Black t-shirt with some sort of pentagram on the back. I didn’t bother to see more. But… I wonder, is this Cynthia from Morrisville or the other “friend” whom he was so thrilled about moving into the back room? And… has he already done so? Hmmm… – Meanwhile, of note, when I came in at about 16.15 or so, from errands, I opened the living-room/front door to the STENCH of garbage! Coming up-stairs I find that the stench is in here too! Not at all unlike the days in NYC when mice would die and rot in the walls. But this is ALL over the house now. Yup indeed, time to get the f’out! Death truly is in this house. – 17.39 I got a call on a place! Going to meet the potential(s) at 19.30! Psyched! – But I just looked out my window… I can SEE the freight train, now that the leaves are off the trees. I’ll truly, really, deeply, painfully miss this room. And the house, the porch, the river, and the town. I’ve loved it here. But staying, under these conditions, is impossible. Silas Burton, my Soul is full of nothing but Hate for you, and I’m expelling that energy out-ward. Pure Hate. – As for the rest of the day? I HAVE A MEETING WITH PERSPECTIVE NEW HOUSING! We’re meeting at McDo, Enosburgh, 19.30! Married couple… MEN! Only… ONLY in Vermont! I’m almist giddy! And yet, torn and shredded. And it’s cheaper than here! Hey! – But… before I left the library, I rang Don. Explained having to climb through the window on Saturday and that Silas is having a melt-down, accusing me of breaking the screen. Don says he’ll come by (not today) to look. Ah, Don, you don’t know it yet but your house is in serious danger. Silas can’t handle rent, utilities, heating. He’ll find something to rent these other 2 rooms to… and this will become Party Central. Either that or there’ll be a snap mid-night move-out. It’s a shame. This house doesn’t deserve that. Well, neither do I. – So, Silas is gone again. Took his gargantua off in the car. Left her out in the car for a while as he conversed with Hilary. It really is sadly funny that he feels he needs somebody to watch the house. Oh well… – Hey! Thankfully I shaved and showered today! Now… a brief nap. –

Mon.22.Oct: 16.36 So Silas just pulled up in front of the house and this rather HUGE female got out of his car. I mean “HUGE”! She waddles rather than walks. Reddish hair, below shoulder length, straight. Black t-shirt with some sort of pentagram on the back. I didn’t bother to see more. But… I wonder, is this Cynthia from Morrisville or the other “friend” whom he was so thrilled about moving into the back room? And… has he already done so? Hmmm… – Meanwhile, of note, when I came in at about 16.15 or so, from errands, I opened the living-room/front door to the STENCH of garbage! Coming up-stairs I find that the stench is in here too! Not at all unlike the days in NYC when mice would die and rot in the walls. But this is ALL over the house now. Yup indeed, time to get the f’out! Death truly is in this house. – 17.39 I got a call on a place! Going to meet the potential(s) at 19.30! Psyched! – But I just looked out my window… I can SEE the freight train, now that the leaves are off the trees. I’ll truly, really, deeply, painfully miss this room. And the house, the porch, the river, and the town. I’ve loved it here. But staying, under these conditions, is impossible. Silas Burton, my Soul is full of nothing but Hate for you, and I’m expelling that energy out-ward. Pure Hate. – As for the rest of the day? I HAVE A MEETING WITH PERSPECTIVE NEW HOUSING! We’re meeting at McDo, Enosburgh, 19.30! Married couple… MEN! Only… ONLY in Vermont! I’m almist giddy! And yet, torn and shredded. And it’s cheaper than here! Hey! – But… before I left the library, I rang Don. Explained having to climb through the window on Saturday and that Silas is having a melt-down, accusing me of breaking the screen. Don says he’ll come by (not today) to look. Ah, Don, you don’t know it yet but your house is in serious danger. Silas can’t handle rent, utilities, heating. He’ll find something to rent these other 2 rooms to… and this will become Party Central. Either that or there’ll be a snap mid-night move-out. It’s a shame. This house doesn’t deserve that. Well, neither do I. – So, Silas is gone again. Took his gargantua off in the car. Left her out in the car for a while as he conversed with Hilary. It really is sadly funny that he feels he needs somebody to watch the house. Oh well… – Hey! Thankfully I shaved and showered today! Now… a brief nap. – Off to newer and better… I doubt it could be worse. Of course, this house is now worse than the Shelter in NYC (but still better than Shelburne and the BTV shelter). Shit balances… or does it? – 19.23 McDo: No nap and yes, Silas’ Cynthia is a new “sleep-in” though he’s out with the other one whilst Cynthia is in the house. When I left, she was in his room and the house was lit from end to end! I hope she’s paying utilities because I’ll be damned before I’ll pay for her light show! To be honest, I don’t think she’s just a guest. – 22.21 The front door, for which I have 2 keys and have been using, was CHAINED when I got back at about 22.00. Fortunately, more for Silas than me, the back door wasn’t bolted. However, the bsck porch light now stays on 24/7. I’m paying for this? Then, I walk into the kitchen: sink piled full of durty pots, pans, dishes… food spattered on stove and counter-tops, spills on the floor. And the STENCH!!!!! Rotting road-kill!!!! Never mind simple garbage now. The stench is even in my room at this point! The entire house smells of rotting meat! Garbage, old food, rotting meat… something dead in the walls? Or some psychotic act whilst I’m gone? Well, if the folks I interviewed with this evening (for 2 hours) agree to the rental and the place isn’t at all horrid… come next pay-cheque, I’ll be off o’er the horizon. It’s a health hazard in here. I hope Don gets to see and smell it. For his side of the situation, he’s ending up with the wrong half of the horse here. Shame. – I look at this room and all that I don’t have and tonight I’m quite happy. If I pack right, and the car holds up… 1 brief trip and I’m very GONE! Now I wonder: Maybe that’s why Silas has someone here round the clock… to notify him of my departure. Hmm… Very funny, if so. – 22.42 and I can hear the chit-chat down-stairs. Well, others will see what I’ve seen… soon enough. – The interview went very well. Charming, charming couple. I’m the first Renter for them. We chatted for 2 hours and left it at: They’ll call in a couple of days. As I say… if yes… next pay will cover a month. Hopefully they won’t want 2 up front. If so, Silas will have to give a “10 Day Demand” then a formal “Get Out”. I can take any of it into court. And right now, he’s given me more to take to a judge. He has my “Renter’s Guide” but it’s out of date. Still, it specifies that he can’t simply toss me or lock me out. And, well, he’s probably stupid enough to believe other-wise. Getting him into court right now? “Warrant of Habitability”. I could call the Health Dept. and just might anyway. Violations abound… just on health cides alone. Jolly fun all round. But oh, OH! Everything I have will HAVE to be laundered no matter where I move to! Here we go again. But it’s a small price to pay. – On a closing thought tonight: I’m relieved that PJ’s items are out of here. They’re safely away. No telling what the psycho is capable of pulling. Too bad I can’t get a check done on him… yet. I’m convinced that Gwen wanted him out of her house (I hear his Mum’s not clean either). I’d be willing to bet California’s not weeping over his departure. He claims his room is un-rented and the way he left it. If he did to that room, what he’s done to this house, it’s probably not rentable. – Well, whilst the WiFi is running, I’m transferring this to the Journal.

Tue.23.Oct: 16.48 And as another day comes to a close, the wall sketch is becoming obvious since I discovered I can blend’n’shade with paper towel (duh), Don was here at 15.30 (I went down to see him only to see Silas packing his garbage up… it had been in front of the window in question… I suppose to block me from it) so I avoided probable confrontation and came backup-stairs, AND I’VE AN APPOINTMENT ON FRIDAY EVENING TO VIEW A NEW PLACE! (How odd: a year ago today I was packed and prepped to move… from NYC to BTV; a year later and I’m packed and prepped … to move … again. It makes me want to vomit!) But tomorrow brings the first year to a close. I’ll be stupid enough to allow a shadow of Hope that this first year was a hazing, an initiation, and that the bull-shit is ending… NOW! – And meanwhile, NL will be off on holiday tomorrow. Strangely, I do already miss her. Even over the distance, a Good Friend is going away! But she’s been putting in much at work… I Hope the time away is beautifully perfect. She deserves nothing less. – Just looked out the western window. I see the church, the 2 houses, the street sign (Town) and it hurts to know I won’t see this, soon. FUK! Again I say: Silad Burton, the very essence of my immortal Soul trembles with Hate for you! – I’m tired… hungry. Maybe a small nap is in order. Just a small nap. I’d considered going to the Ebrg library this evening but, save gas, SAVE the car! I’ll have time to kill in BTV tomorrow. – 19.15 Well, it would seem Silas has returned since I can smell his incense wafting through my closed door, a female voice giggling, him mumbling rather loudly, door(s) opening/closing and what sounded like furniture being dragged across the floor in the living-room. – I’ve been recording some of his texts to me since we got here. “I’m here for you.” “I care for you.” Indeed. Indeed, Silas. Indeed. Take your meds like you’re supposed to. – And… he STILL will NOT admit there’s nothing wrong with the screen, even after Don was here and THEY spoke! (I can just imagine what Silas told Don about me… But, it appears more folks in Richford happen to like me… it appears “Boy Wonder” has managed to piss off the natives… one Gay “Married” couple too, as a matter of fact. Indeed Silas. Indeed.) – 21.41 I need to get some sleep! Over-wound I suppose. Had a cold tin of Chefboyardee ravioli and a tin of mandarin oranges for “meal”. Then the smell of burgers wafted up from down-stairs. Cooked on the Foreman grill, bought for Silas for his birthday, with gas money I couldn’t afford. It reminded me of our trip to Montréal… the last minute planning, Chinese food, more money I couldn’t afford. We quickly forget… quickly. I don’t. – He will NOT admit he was wrong about the screen. It won’t change my plans to leave. I HAVE to get out of here and AWAY from him. He’s lethal. I don’t trust him or anything about him. Admittedly, I knew, from the beginning. I’m a moron at my core. I love this house, this town, this room. I’m bitter. I’m Hateful. I’m anxious. I have to leave. – I wish I was tired. – I dread tomorrow. The drive to the bus, wondering if the car will break-down, wondering if it will be there when I return, wondering what I’ll do with the dead time in BTV, wondering what torturous shit and further accusations I’ll be bombarded with at court. And then… wondering what shit I’ll face when I get back to the house. – Nanc had been my Rock lately. It’s really wrong of me to do that… to her… to me. I’m just feeling quite “alone” again. I don’t handle being so despised for something I didn’t do (the screen). And I don’t like being so Hateful. – I need to grab hold of myself and get on with this. I’ve been trying to pull my “Shelter me” back. I survived then. I knew what I needed to do and I focused. I need that “me” now. – I sent Nanc an e-mail today. I want to include an excerpt:
“Since Saturday’s little explosion, mr. Silas hasn’t been alone in the house at all. Every day and night he’s bounced between 2 girls… stay-overs! One spent the day here yesterday, in his room while he was out some-where. He took her some-where last evening, a car pulled into the drive with another girl at the wheel. She came in (the traffic has been noteable) and waited for him to return, which he did, with-out the former “companion”. It’s as if he’s afraid to be alone with him-self, and, as I’ve seen during my Counselor days, he’s over-compensating for a perceived “lost love”, an attempt to feel needed, wanted, &c. If it wasn’t so tragic it would be almost interesting.
And, as I sit, composing this, the stench of something quite long-dead permeates the whole house! Epicenter: the kitchen. It smells like something crawled into the walls, died and is rotting. I don’t know how nobody else is noticing. BUT, last night, when I got back from the “interview”, the sink was LOADED with pots, pans, dishes, the stove and counter-tops were splattered and covered with food. This morning? Sink almost empty and tops cleaned. (He’s sleeping with his new House-keeper?) But the stench is already in the walls. The Owner will appreciate this, no doubt. I just HOPE he doesn’t think it’s my doing.” – 22.15 PS: In order to pay on rent and utilities this month, and to get heating oil last month, I couldn’t pay my storage bill. That cost me an additional 35$ in addirion to the 2 months that I owed anyway… because I let my own few possessions fall into danger of being lost to make sure this house was taken care of. But Silas doesn’t know, and wouldn’t care if he did know. – I HAVE to get AWAY… from HIM!

Wed.24.Oct: 4.37 First thought of this day:
The State of Vermont, based solely on an assumption, treats me as a convicted criminal, even before it’s heard both sides of the incident. I am guilty even before it has reviewed any of the evidence. (As I am to understand it, “No one has even had the time to kook at your file yet.”) And the people, including Silas Burton, decry the injustice! Yet, Mr. Burton him-self, based solely on an assumption, before reviewing ANY evidence AND even AFTER my innocence has been PROVEN, not “beyond a shadow of a doubt” but blatantly, obviously and COMPLETELY, continues to penalise me because he REFUSES to acknowledge and accept the incontrovertible FACT of his misjudgement and my innocence. In under 5 minutes’ time, Mr. Burton unilatterally and solely tried me, found me guilty and affected sentence… Torture and Exile. – He’s not at all any different. Hypocracy REIGNS!
Second thought of this day: At 13.00 today, 24 October 2012, the Court convenes for calendar call. At 13.10, on 24 October 2011, Jet Blue landed on Vermont soil bringing me here, alone, from a Homeless Shelter in NYC. I’d been in that Shelter every day for 4 months, gotten up every day at 4.30, to go to work from 8.00 to 17.00 with-out a break, 12 consecutive days for 2 days off, to earn… EARN just barely enough to get out of the Shelter and out of NYC to where I thought I could “live” not a “better” “life” but where I thought I would, at last, HAVE a “life”.
•With-in my first 6 months here, in Vermont, I was denied the opportunity to work at any of 3 jobs offered even before I’d arrived because Vermont rejected the credentials I’d worked YEARS to acquire in New York.
•I took a menial, seasonal job so as to become a productive resident and citizen of this State and be worthy of calling it my “home”.
•Hit a hard bump, fell on hard times and was called a “scum-bag”. (Shelley Vinal)
•Sought help and shelter in the “Homeless” system here and was treated like a worthless “flea-bag” by those who offered that help and shelter and was LIED to. (Burlington Emergency Shelter)
•Shortly after, I was accused of ASSAULTING a woman (Tara Campbell), an unemployed alcoholic woman whom I’d defended and to whom I’d become a confidant, by that very same woman AND her alcoholic “boy-friend” (Steven Kent) resulting in police charges being filed and, ultimately, having no charges put against me BUT being issued a “Writ of Tresspass” and being thrown out of my residence at 1.30 on a rainy morning.
•I was then sold a car with promises of repairs to be made to known issues (Doug Potter). The repairs were never made, a bill of sale was never given, the vehicle became an albatross, needing repairs, inspection, insurance and now, new tyres. And demands made for the vehicle’s return under threats of charges of “theft”!
•Today’s matter then took place as was my first thought if the day.
•I be-friended a total stranger, younger than I, who is even a stranger to this lattitude, climate and culture. (Silas Burton) I encouraged him and supported him and helped him find a job that paid him considerably more than I was making, in a capacity that potentially offered more security than the job I was holding. He offered me the opportunity for that “life” I was seeking here and in just short of 2 months’ time, HE has accused ne of “shirking” my financial responsibilities to him and our combined house-hold, locked me out, disregarded and disrespected me, accused me of inflicting damages to the property (which have all been proven false) and put me in a position where-by, as the Winter season approaches, I now find my-self, essentially, Homeless… again… Exiled, residing in a room surrounded by packed boxes in preparation to move… again.

Oh yes? This is “Life”? THIS is “Living”? I whole-heartedly, with mind, body and Soul, wonder WHY I am even present to journal this shit on this 9-degree, frost-covered morning, wondering if the afore-mentioned vehicle will get me to the mandatory destination of the day where I will have hours to wander aimlessly and then spend hours being, again, treated like a pustule on the face of Vermont society.

Happy Anniversary. Welcome.
(Wed.24. Continued) 17.35 Link in Georgia and I’m completely TOAST! Tired. Worn. Drawn and quartered. And Silas is on a rocking paranoid freak binge! Threats via text ALL day! Began as the bus pulled into Winooski (about 8.00) and continued right along as I was in the court house (about 14.00)! As it turned, I’ve posted an official termination of lease… certified, return receipt. Done. No matter what… done. Even if I have to buy another tent and live in some brambles, I can’t take any more of the mood shifts… not swings, SHIFTS! And today’s threats included calling the police about the car, giving them my “location”, telling Don I’ve threatened to burn the house down! Right now I’m trying to think of where to put the car, to keep him away from it. For now… we’ll see if the car’s even where I left it this morning and see if I can get it to with-in walking distance of the house. – 19.01 I am in my room. Silas, with company, is in his “apartment”. The car is… not on the property. I leave it at that. The house is dark, and cold. The dryer is running. I haven’t been able to make a wash in, well, I’d have to look to see when I journalled one. Before leaving BTV, I stopped at HomePort: sandalwood incense sticks x20. One is smouldering even now. Un-necessary, because when I walked into the room, it simply smelled “fresh” and not at all of cigarettes. But I knew that. It’s a shame how much I do love this room (ah… the boiler kicked on. 19.05. I have my little heater on to take the damp chill out. I wonder how much oil is left and how Silas will manage through the coming Winter… Hillary? In any event: it won’t be my concern.) – On to the chronology of today’s fiasco! – It all began quietly. I showered, dressed, went out, scraped the frost, drove away in the morning darkness. As I waited for the bus, a few messages back and forth to Nanc. Vacation trip! Gee, after all the shit in this house, I could use one. But I’m truly glad for her. Time with family, away from job, just time, her own. We laughed (text) and joked and she was on the road and I got on the bus… to nap. I was quite tired. I think I might have gotten to sleep at past mid-night and was awake with the 3.58 alarm. And so, indeed, a doze on the bus until 8.08. The messages started coming in, one rigt aftet the other… almost non-stop! Well, I’d left on the bed, a note, just a note that expresses exactly how I feel: Hate. Of course, Hate. I came here with promises, helpful promises, promises of “Life”, peace, tranquility. WE came here, in part, because of the job I helped Silas get, through going to his Mums’ place, working on CVs, cover lettres, applications; I came with him for his interview in Richford, I went with him to WRJ when he went for training, he got a job that pays considetably more than I’m making, he got a job that he liked (for as long as his condition will allow), and he wanted to move, but not alone, I moved, here, to this town, when, in fact, I didn’t want to move here, to a town that offers nothing and looks as if the last one to leave left the door open and the place got pillaged. When we moved in, I potentially was to be out of work, training for 8 weeks in Williston. That was fine with him. I couldn’t cover moving expenses or rent, &c. But… I was promised a place where I could study and sleep… and eat… and it would be clean. And the 8 weeks would go by and all would be well. Well, the training fell through. His job was going well, and, over the course of a few weeks, I got more hours and my commute was cut in more than half! My income rose… unfortunately, his decreased. As his hours decreased, I encouraged him to take the Postal test. He did, and passed. And, he made one “burst”, one day’s effort, to find anorher job. But none of what I’ve done has been of any good. I learn, from his own admission, that he’s supposed to be taking mood-stabilisers, and, as is common, he’s non-compliant. As it was with Mark, back in Shongum, I’m here, I get the brunt. * Today, 2 days short of those 8 weeks, this shit flies in my face, as I’m on a bus, going to court to face charges for a common error for which I am not guilty but am being persecuted for. I’m on a bus for which I woke at 4am after about 3 hours of restless nap-time, looking at the next 8 hours of time to fill, in a place I don’t want to be and… I’m being threatened and yelled at and AGAIN, accused of evils, this time, contrived. OK! The texts went along, as I’ve transcribed and record here, as a reminder to me, lest I tend to forget these atrocities, and, admittedly, in case I need a transcription to present… to a court or to the home-owner. *** One thing I have to keep in mind: Indeed, Silas KNEW that I was out of the house, he saw that the car was gone, knew I’d be gone well before he woke. But he claimed he’d gone up-stairs to wish me luck today… AFTER I’d gone. The note on the bed was not only to express my current feelings but, as I’ve done before, and then as now, it evoked a clear admission: you come into what should be “my personal space” when I am away. Proof, incontrovertible. None more needed. “Trust” destroyed. The end. – It was chilling when I got off the bus. Cool temperatures, fatigue, malnurishment, I shiverred as I looked for a place of warmth in a town that doesn’t “open” until 10.00, and here it was, not even 9.00. And the texts continued. Finally, I got to DunkinDonuts, a coffee (which I didn’t need to buy, having brought my own), a table, warmth. I stayed, responding politely and kindly to the barrage on my lousy phone. At a few points, admittedly, I cried as I tapped the words in my responses. Yes, admittedly, this is Hurtful for me. All along I took Silas’ position to heart: strange environment, situation, geography, people. A new start in life. Tough times that I thought he’d never enountered before. I took his plight as something I could help him through, smoothly. In my own life, there has never been anyone to do that for me. It’s been rather cruel at times. I wanted to keep Silas from that experience and now, it, I was crumbling. I suppose I felt I was being a “bad parent”, a “failing mentor”. He was suffering and, well, in a way, maybe I was to blame. What stopped all those feelings was, and is the fact: He was lying to me, about me, contriving accusations, threatening me AND trying to TAKE MY SHELTER! When he mentioned the car it ended ALL! Take the car and you take my income! Take that and I have NOTHING! Then I’m undeniably TRAPPED! And THAT is where compassion disappeared. I became “protective”… of ME! I saw me as a cornered animal, teeth and claws at the ready to tear and shred. BUT, as is my way, in my Mother’s teachings… the legal way was the way out. And legal was the reason I was in town today. I had the lettre of “Termination of Lease” prepared already to print. It was time. – I finished my coffee and suddenly realised another opportunity… to print the lettre, immediately, with-out cost. Hey! This town’s not so “strange” and “unknown” after all! Off to DoL! I headed out. – The weather was delightful, sun still in the East, and the Adirondacks!!! Beautiful! I walked to Battery Park for photos to send to Nanc but, as I approached the observation wall, saw the Great Adirondacks, I began to cry… HOME-SICKNESS! New York! Across the lake! I want to go BACK, to HOME, to NEW YORK! I am a NEW YORKER! It’s familiar and being familiar, it’s comfortable! And my dreams of coming to Vermont are dashed and destroyed. I don’t want to be HERE any longer! Fuk! I want to go “home”! What a miserable shame, a painfully miserable shame. I took a few pictures, sent some to Nanc and headed to DoL. Business to be done… quickly. More shit… Vetmont shit. – There, at DoL, I refined the lettre, in a familiar, warm environment… print! Done! And, oddly enough, with moments left to get to the court-house, almost just in time! I’d managed to fill my empty time in-doors, warm, seated, occupied! It was good. And I was prepared for the legalities of self-protection, should they come necessary. – 12.20 and just round the corner to… court. Today’s was just about what’s become “usual”: sit, wait to be called, discuss. No promises. “We’re looking to get this dismissed as it should be but…” (I was candid, said I’m being persecuted to the point of becoming suicidal, I drive along praying the car careen off the road, I go to bed praying I don’t wake… all true.) The State offered a “bargain”: “Diversion” which means no criminal record BUT an admission of guilt to something. Even the atty found that un-satisfactory and so… ANOTHER court date AND and ADDITIONAL date for “jury pick”! The atty says there’s no saying this will and no saying this won’t go to trial, but all options are being covered. Personally, I believe the entire system is milking this, somebody’s making their “holiday shopping money” and the tax-payers are covering the tab. She, the atty, broght up the ONE bad cheque in 1975 or so. Thanks Valerie, you shit. SO not necessary. But it was handled and done! Still, it will never go away. We are NEVER exonnerated, and remain GUILTY no matter what. Fucked for the duration of time on earth. She did try to put me at ease by saying that this isn’t terribly serious, comparing it to more serious crimes, people who’ve been in court many times even before their “18th birthday”. It doesn’t help… much. But… I did clarify a point of importance: that the day was extraorinarily hectic and that the entire day should (and now will be) considered. Roll the tape! – As all of this was taking place, the texts continued, so, in exasperation I pointed-out to Silas that, should the housing issue go to court, Don and Hillary will be called in. I asked if that’s the way HE wanted it to go. A cryptic reply. He’s being thoughtlessly unforgiving. I decided to go for my own “legal protection”. With the time I knew I had to wait for the atty, I made my paper-work, signed the “Termination” notice and bolted to the PO. There’s an advantage to small towns: all is close by where-ever one happens to be. It was incredibly SLOW at the PO but… the lettre is posted… the legalities commence. And, when the lettre is delivered, texts, words, actions can and WILL be recorded as “Retaliatory”. I have potentials for better… I will NOT be interfered with! It’s MY “survival” now. The “Shelter” has returned. I pleaded with Silas to simply stay out of my way and let me simply leave in peace. He refused. I must do what I must. Winter is coming. This is The North Country. No sleeping in the woods. Done. And verbal communication ceases. – Court done. Lettre done. A quick trip to get incense… to cover an occasional smoke in the room and to make a point: his incense FILLED this house pungently, and he used it to cover Hillary’s marijuana smoke. I too can enjoy a fragrance that I like and cover my “legal tobacco”. The task covered most of the empty time before getting back on the bus, back to where the car hopefully was still parked. – The car was there when I returned. All the way back to town I pondered where I could park it, away from the house, out of Silas’ sight and reach. Small towns suddenly became a problemme; nobody parks on the street. En route I decided on one spot, and there I left it. But it couldn’t remain over-night. I’d have to move it later… take a cigarette walk and move it. Fine. And so I did. Where? Not to be mentioned, here or anywhere. No “Trust” in anything any longer. – 21.20 Went for long walk to find parking. The walk took me round the Northern part of town where the streets are empty but the architecture is magnificent! This was once a most beautiful little town. But as I left the house to walk: Hillary’s Mike had parked in my space out back! How immediately it’s been arranged to get rid of me! And I now wonder: did Silas actually report as threatened, then go to Hillary to say that the space is now available? He’s capable of that calous stupidity. So, in addition to all else, I have THIS to ponder. Tensions mount. My survival instincts go full throttle! My walk also brought be over a South-side road, empty, remote and SO “country”. It brought memories of child-hood strolls along relatively dark roads. It was delightful. But again, offered no parking! It DID add to my anger: this is a cute town, a nice place to call “home” and I’m losing it because of someone else’s psychotics. So be it. – As I walked, the County Sheriff made rounds. It made me anxious. As the walk ended, I decided on another place to put the car. It worked-out well enough. I can keep an eye on it from a great vantage point. If it’s taken, at least I’ll know. If attempts are made to damage it, I’ll see. – Returned about 22.00 to find Silas and friend cooking in kitchen (Foreman grill). Nothing said by anyone. Good. I went directly up to the room. The day… done. Or so I thought. He truly is dumber than advertised. Unusually noiser than ever before:
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(***** 19.15 His sliding doors open, he stomps across the living-room, a female voice, his voice “I love….”, the front door opens, the screen door slams, foot-steps pound off into the kitchen.*****)
(***** 22.21: Repeatedly SLAMMING kitchen cup-board doors and laughing.*****)
(***** 22.41: stomping in livingroom, hammering*****)
(***** 22.58: repeated banging on something downstairs accompanied by laughing – male and female *****)
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23.01 Just noticing that at 10.28 on the 19th, I told Silas, via text, that I was preparing to leave. The shit has been hitting the fan ever since. Here, I’m keeping track of tonight’s retaliatory activities. There are times when a Journal comes in handy and when I get this record to the authorities, I’ll include a demand for damages. NYC is back!
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Retaliation:
Post-Notification of termination of Rental Agreement
•Locked out: Saturday 20 Oct. 8:40am
Entry via back-room window.
•Locked out: Friday 25 Oct. 10:00am
Entry via front door.

I transcribed text messages, keeping quiet. Tomorrow, when the lettre arrives, will be interesting.

Thu.25.Oct: Up at 8.00, stomach a complete mess, the water-runs, nothing but the dry breakfast cereal I’d eaten last night. Continuing yesterday’s account and watching the car, planning a difficult day to come. – 9.29 and back on the toilet. Just brown water. There’s a trip to the ER coming. – 10.51 Just posted yesterday to the Journal. “Tim” is delivering mail on the streets to the West. Silas and his … were up, in the kitchen. All is quiet again. I keep checking on the car between journaling and running to the toilet. Have decided to get to the library this evening before work, Things to record, print. And it gets me out of here… SICK! AGAIN thinking “get me out of here”! But I DO want to be here when the lettre arrives. And I hope Silas is here! Well, I’ll print and send a back-up, not certified. I believe that should be done anyway. He’s not prompt about getting the mail… so. So? Just more of his irresponsibility to bring to general attention. – I want a smoke. I need a nap. I need to eat. I need to shit… again. I NEED to get out of here! Oh, tomorrow! Please that it be… close enough to Perfect! If so, one more week of THIS… ONE WEEK! – 11.49 Track/Confirm shows the lettre didn’t even make Richford today! Silas and Co. just left in his car. Evil doings, no doubt.
*****
And a thought I had: He claims Don smelled smoke in the house, claims it was my cigs. As I recall, Don never came into the house and, if he did, (I was in my room all the while) he didn’t come up-stairs. The house smells of garbage and any “smoke” down-stairs would be Silas’ incense and Hillary’s marijuana.
*****
I’ll working tonight on no nap, little sleep, no food. Tomorrow morning I’ll come back to this Hell. It’s not suicidal, it’s pre-meditated murder.
*****
12.05 A visit to the washer/dryer room has confirmed: the girl has moved in. A basket FULL to over-flow of her clothes is on the dryer, 2 extra bottles of shampoo in the shower. I am, essentially, no longer permitted to use laundry or shower. Fortunately I have the bath-tub up-stairs. I’ll have to figure a way to do my wash now.
*****
Midnight. At work. The day is done. The morning was passed up-dating records and Journal. – I took advantage of the time alone to check the mail. THE LETTRE IS IN RICHFORD! BUT THE DIK-HEAD CARRIER DIDN’T KNOCK TO DELIVER IT! JUST LEFT THE NOTICE! Well, Silas will have to go to his Post Office to get that. (Meanwhile, the regular copy got posted this evening at the Ensbrg PO box.) Silas isn’t in the habit of checking the mail (full of notices for him, bills, late payments and such). But that doesn’t save him from the “Termination of Lease”. It merely helps to prove his irresponsibility. – This after-noon, I bathed, dressed and was ready to leave when Silas and… I believe the “girl” is “Heather Ann Hill”, a “friend” of his from FaceBook… returned. Funny, I was dressing quietly in my room when I heard foot-steps on the stairs. My door was open, back-pack by the door. The foot-steps retreated. They didn’t know I was in. At about 14.30 I left the house, front door, un-noticed. Had to walk round to get to the car and drive round to avoid passing the house. Bad enough I get no rest (again) and now I’m leaving for work almost 5 hours ahead. My case against dear Silas mounts by the moment. I’m thinking that I will be seeing him in court. The Vermont Statutes are on my side, as he’s soon to learn. – I headed into Enosburgh where, in the library I got computer time until about 17.30! Research on un-lawful lock-outs AND LEGAL PERMISSION to climb in that window when locked out! Well, it appears even the courts will agree that Mr. Burton is responsible AND accountable! Hello Judge! (Lawsuit for damages, coming up!) – Oh, before leaving the library I took a few moments to do some searching on my “landlord” and found his “girl”. HAD to send a photo to Nanc, for schitzengiggles. To my shock and amazement and joy, she replied! I was delighted to see word from her and felt guilty to disturb her vacation. Still, it’s a comfort to know somebody’s “there”, somebody who doesn’t hate me. – It was about 17.30 when I left the library so I strolled in search of thr PO to post the regular mail copy of my lettre to Silas. It was a magnificent, warm evening and I thoroughly enjoyed the stroll along the street. Ended up in the banque where a “Jen” I worked with at JPMC greeted me! We chatted a while, a customer directed me to the PO and I was back out, strolling and really enjoying the village. I felt comfortable here this evening… with-out the tether to Silas. His lettre got put into the drop box at the PO. It will go out at 17.00 tomorrow. – I was SO hungry by now that I gave in and bought a Subway sandwich for work. (Now, Silas is costing me extra because I can’t store food or cook… again!) And… off to work. – When I got here, I HAD to start the sandwich and caught my-self eating thr way I used to, back in the Shelter days: frantic! It disgusted me! But at last… FOOD! I ate ,25% and headed in, to work, for the night. – Mme. has been having another fidgety night. Doesn’t that figure? – But tomorrow I get to look at a new place! Had I not lost a day’s pay because of the lock-out last week-end, I probably could have moved right in with the next pay-cheque. As ut stands, I’ll probably be about 100$ short! (Something else to sue the landlord for.) Well, I just hope the place is great and… no “hidden agendas”. – Well… day done.
The typos, doing this on the iPod, piss me off. But, it’s better than the nothing I once had. Bless you Schmulik Motek!

Fri.26.Oct: ***** LOCKED-OUT AGAIN! THIS MORNING! NOBODU HOME! Fortunately, front door not chained.*****
1.20 WINDY tonight. Rumour of a hurricane on Monday/Tuesday coming. – 7.34 I thought this wouldn’t be happening again, but I was so wrong: sitting here, after a 12-hour shift, awake all night from about 8.00 yesterday morning, wasting time, trying to appear to have a purpose, a reason to be sitting here, in the car, in a parking lot, in the cold. Why? (a) Because I dread going to that house and (b) because I’m here, in town, where the Courthouse is and I want the papers needed to bring Silas Burton into court and in front of a judge! If for no other reason, this morning… and yesterday. I mean, yesterday I should have been able to get a nap, prepare food to be eaten at work, take a shower before coming in to work. I should have been able to wash my clothes for work. I was unable to any of these things. And let’s add the lousy day of work last week because he made false accusations and kept texting me so I couldn’t sleep after work. Add, while we’re at it, the fact that I couldn’t get to work was because he’d delayed me to the point that his bullshit with leaving a week’s worth of dishes in the sink made it necessary for me to stop at the market en route to work and just as I left the market, a police activity made it necessary to drive almost 50 miles to get to work, using all my gas. And so, today we have the gal-thing in the house and between the two if them it’s a constant drone of sound coupled with stomping feet and slamming doors. Tonight I have a 17.00 appointment for which I can’t go looking or feeling like shit. I’ll need a few hours of sleep during the day and there’s almost a stone-carved guarantee that that is not going to be possible. So here I sit, guys churning, and cold, waiting for a time when I can simply start the engine and hooray I make it to the Court-house in this thing (with a tyre that leaks air and is, for all I know, on a “hit list”. After all, Silas Lee Burton threatened me with the car… which adds to my list thr fact that I have to find some place to park when I get to town because my space is no longer available! – This morning, the thought came to me however: As I read the State statutes I learned just how illegal all his actions are and what can be done about them. If all goes well, Mr. Burton will be finding himself on the very wrong end of a very deep law suit. Which brings me full circle as to why I’m still sitting here, in the car, in the lot, in the cold at 7.58… hoping the court clerk will be opening as I jot this and will be open by 8.30 at the very least so I can get the forms and go… to Hell… the house…. that house. – OK then… enough. Let the day roll (and my bowels hold, please?) – (14.30) Went to the Court-house. Nice guy in Clerk’s office told me there are “no Civil forms” for taking this into the courts. Suggested seeing an atty or going on-line to learn how to bring a Civil Action. He said he couldn’t give legal advice in his position. (14.31 a loud click downstairs. I thought I was alone in the house. Not going to investigate.) So I have more to do, away from here… library time! More driving, more time, more gas. Please let tonight go well, next pay cover the move! Then it will be only a matter of 11 more days of this… a week from Tuesday. I’m getting physically sick from this. – And so, no sleep for 26 hours at that point, drove back. – As Fate would have it, I’d stopped at the gas station in Enosburgh and continued on, and *** AS I DROVE OUT OF TOWN, AT THE BANQUE, I PASS SILAS LEE BURTON DRIVING SOUTH-BOUND! So I KNEW he wouldn’t be at the house when I arrived! *** – Got into Richford, parked the car away from the house again, but not in the same place as yesterday, walked up to the front, checked the mail: same as yesterday, he hasn’t gotten my lettre. Walked round to the back/kitchen door and… *** BOLTED AGAIN! *** NOBODY IN THE HOUSE! So I figured I’d try the front door, where the porch light has been on since his Ms. Whatsit arrived. No chain! So no Sheriff this morning. I simply came in, up-stairs, and readied for bed. It was almost 10.00 by now. -Once again, Fate: the Town is picking-up leaves from the streets so there are dump-trucks and such about. Some-how, I managed to drift off… until the 14.00 alarms. – Took a stroll down-stair to check windows and other possible means of non-damaging access to find the kitchen in total mess, sink FULL of dirty dishes, counter/stove tops covered in dishes and such. Took pictures and will post. Ms. Whatsit’s clothes still on washer/dryer. Oh, and now, even the side door to the house is sealed-off with a storm door SCREWED to the house! Only TWO doors available to get in! I see the Sheriff being here… perhaps tonight. Fortunately, the Statutes allow for getting in, and this issue is covered… by law. Still, it all makes me sick. That, and I have my appointment this evening… I don’t know IF the car is still there where I left it and I have to use the bath-tub again to bathe, which takes longer than the shower. (The Clerk told me to save every receipt for money I have to spend on food and such, to add to the suit against Silas Lee Burton, in addition to ALL changes and inconveniences.) – And so, after just under 4 hours sleep, I’m about to prep for this evening’s meeting. – As an additional note: I CAN’T EVEN SEND TEXT MESSAGES FROM THE PHONE AGAIN TODAY! Straight Talk, on the ATT Network is WORTHLESS! No voice, no text! Fukmeshit! Trying to text Nanc. Nofukkingo! – If there was an emergency, one that didn’t necessarily require 911, I’m essentially screwed. Well, I consider, it was Doug who recommended this. Enough said about that. –
(On Sat.27: 11.47) After another tub-bath, I was off and en route by about 16.30. Of course, I had to walk to get to the car, but, we do what we must in times of desperation. I left the house, wondering if the would be where I’d left if and if so, its condition. There’s just NO trusting a medicinally non-compliant Borderline personality. And Silas has been more than proof-positive of that. I left, quietly, saw no one in the house, left by the front door BUT AS I headed down the hill I heard the house door open from behind me: Silas decided to ‘do something’ on the porch, to come out of the house… (to see where I was going?). I simply walked on. Nothing to be said; nothing was said. – I was relieved to find the car where I’d parked it and it was fine. I was on my way in moments. – The drive was BEAUTIFUL! The landscapes, scenery, views of rolling meadows, farms and fields, hills and (small) mountains… it was refreshing and reviving. I did make one error along the way, bringing me back into a point I’d wanted to avoid. But it added a mere 8km to the trip and, as it turned out, brought me to my destination 5 minutes before schedule! “Tastefully on time”. – The town reminds me SO much of Walker Valley! SO VERY much! And the house? “The Monsignor’s” in St. Remy! Quite amazing. Truthfully, I felt I was visiting people and a place I’d been going to all my life. Even the drive reminded me of bits of Shongum and the Catskills. – The reception too was more “familiar” than not. These people are truly wonderful! Even the kitten and dogs welcomed me in! It was SO GOOD to step through a door-way, into a “Welcoming” place… a feeling I haven’t enjoyed in too, too long. (Even when this house in Richford is empty, the air inside is forebodingly hostile. There’s Hate in the walls and it feels as if the windows filtre day-light through Hate and resentment.) The house is (as was said later in the evening) about 137 years old, with barn, added back porches, garage. It’s “Old Vermont”. (12.04 Sat. Silas has left the building.) The architecture is just amazing… and all I could say was “It’s like being in a magazine article on Vermont!” The “tour” was a delight! The grounds reminded me of a smaller version of the “cottage” on Roosa Gap! It was ALL so “familiar”… a return to Happy days of Contentment. It was a pleasure to be there. – Dinner, conversation, the general atmosphere, the kitten who took to my lap, the dogs who sat beside or behind me on the sofa, it was the rejuvenation of being amongst “Friends”, not conniving, brutal, lying enemies. – This morning I feel apologetic for having stayed a bit too long, considering it was a first meeting (but I truly dreaded what I might face back at the house: locked out, the decision of calling the law or, as the police instruction manual states, needing to “use reasonable force to re-enter…” (which, it states “has not committed a crime”.)
I have to put all this in now because I’ve lost track and even this iPod is fucking up!

Fri.26.Oct: ***** LOCKED-OUT AGAIN! THIS MORNING! NOBODU HOME! Fortunately, front door not chained.*****
1.20 WINDY tonight. Rumour of a hurricane on Monday/Tuesday coming. – 7.34 I thought this wouldn’t be happening again, but I was so wrong: sitting here, after a 12-hour shift, awake all night from about 8.00 yesterday morning, wasting time, trying to appear to have a purpose, a reason to be sitting here, in the car, in a parking lot, in the cold. Why? (a) Because I dread going to that house and (b) because I’m here, in town, where the Courthouse is and I want the papers needed to bring Silas Burton into court and in front of a judge! If for no other reason, this morning… and yesterday. I mean, yesterday I should have been able to get a nap, prepare food to be eaten at work, take a shower before coming in to work. I should have been able to wash my clothes for work. I was unable to any of these things. And let’s add the lousy day of work last week because he made false accusations and kept texting me so I couldn’t sleep after work. Add, while we’re at it, the fact that I couldn’t get to work was because he’d delayed me to the point that his bullshit with leaving a week’s worth of dishes in the sink made it necessary for me to stop at the market en route to work and just as I left the market, a police activity made it necessary to drive almost 50 miles to get to work, using all my gas. And so, today we have the gal-thing in the house and between the two if them it’s a constant drone of sound coupled with stomping feet and slamming doors. Tonight I have a 17.00 appointment for which I can’t go looking or feeling like shit. I’ll need a few hours of sleep during the day and there’s almost a stone-carved guarantee that that is not going to be possible. So here I sit, guys churning, and cold, waiting for a time when I can simply start the engine and hooray I make it to the Court-house in this thing (with a tyre that leaks air and is, for all I know, on a “hit list”. After all, Silas Lee Burton threatened me with the car… which adds to my list the fact that I have to find some place to park when I get to town because my space is no longer available! – This morning, the thought came to me however: As I read the State statutes I learned just how illegal all his actions are and what can be done about them. If all goes well, Mr. Burton will be finding himself on the very wrong end of a very deep law suit. Which brings me full circle as to why I’m still sitting here, in the car, in the lot, in the cold at 7.58… hoping the court clerk will be opening as I jot this and will be open by 8.30 at the very least so I can get the forms and go… to Hell… the house…. that house. – OK then… enough. Let the day roll (and my bowels hold, please?) – (14.30) Went to the Court-house. Nice guy in Clerk’s office told me there are “no Civil forms” for taking this into the courts. Suggested seeing an atty or going on-line to learn how to bring a Civil Action. He said he couldn’t give legal advice in his position. (14.31 a loud click downstairs. I thought I was alone in the house. Not going to investigate.) So I have more to do, away from here… library time! More driving, more time, more gas. Please let tonight go well, next pay cover the move! Then it will be only a matter of 11 more days of this… a week from Tuesday. I’m getting physically sick from this. – And so, no sleep for 26 hours at that point, drove back. – As Fate would have it, I’d stopped at the gas station in Enosburgh and continued on, and *** AS I DROVE OUT OF TOWN, AT THE BANQUE, I PASS SILAS LEE BURTON DRIVING SOUTH-BOUND! So I KNEW he wouldn’t be at the house when I arrived! *** – Got into Richford, parked the car away from the house again, but not in the same place as yesterday, walked up to the front, checked the mail: same as yesterday, he hasn’t gotten my lettre. Walked round to the back/kitchen door and… *** BOLTED AGAIN! *** NOBODY IN THE HOUSE! So I figured I’d try the front door, where the porch light has been on since his Ms. Whatsit arrived. No chain! So no Sheriff this morning. I simply came in, up-stairs, and readied for bed. It was almost 10.00 by now. -Once again, Fate: the Town is picking-up leaves from the streets so there are dump-trucks and such about. Some-how, I managed to drift off… until the 14.00 alarms. – Took a stroll down-stair to check windows and other possible means of non-damaging access to find the kitchen in total mess, sink FULL of dirty dishes, counter/stove tops covered in dishes and such. Took pictures and will post. Ms. Whatsit’s clothes still on washer/dryer. Oh, and now, even the side door to the house is sealed-off with a storm door SCREWED to the house! Only TWO doors available to get in! I see the Sheriff being here… perhaps tonight. Fortunately, the Statutes allow for getting in, and this issue is covered… by law. Still, it all makes me sick. That, and I have my appointment this evening… I don’t know IF the car is still there where I left it and I have to use the bath-tub again to bathe, which takes longer than the shower. (The Clerk told me to save every receipt for money I have to spend on food and such, to add to the suit against Silas Lee Burton, in addition to ALL changes and inconveniences.) – And so, after just under 4 hours sleep, I’m about to prep for this evening’s meeting. – As an additional note: I CAN’T EVEN SEND TEXT MESSAGES FROM THE PHONE AGAIN TODAY! Straight Talk, on the ATT Network is WORTHLESS! No voice, no text! Fukmeshit. Trying to text Nanc. Nofukkingo!
yr”! Bloody phone!)
***** 12.25 I see Silas drive down Hamilton on to Church. Apparently he’s driving round to find the car. (Learned later today, he was working. But I still believe he was looking.)
*****
12.35 The stress and anxiety of all of this is oppressive! Now it comes down to a razor’s edge: So close to getting out of here, away from here, and yet, the Hateful Spite I can actually FEEL! Don was here only moments ago. If he’s a sensible man, and Silas confided anything (lies, I’m certain), Don would have advised him to remain with-in the law. But I can’t be certain… of anything. And now, some 6,5 hours before I need to be at work, I’m wondering where to go to get out and away… AGAIN! – 21.56 at a horrid night at work. It’s all to add to this day… At about 14.00/14.30, I was in the tub, bathing to bolt for the door when the knock came. Silas. “Can I talk to you?” Well, sure. “I want to get you the key but Don says I have to give him the other one.” OK. Fine. And then, what followed was yet again, something text-book-typical: apologies, an admission that he was wrong about the screen, the fact that Don told him that it’s “a 3,50$ repair” (bloody bull-shit!), then, according to Silas, Don said “I see you have the thermostat set at 70. (points to my window) He’s got the windows open. I’ll bet he’s smoking up there.” Well, I took the cue and explained that marijuana is still illegal in VT and that him (Silas) allowing her to smoke in the house, especially with me living there AND me being in HealthCare puts me in a precarious spot where-by I could have the both of them arrested. Ah, how the melody changed. Then I hear that he went to Don for advice on how to handle my notice. Don told him (all this I record with skepticism beyond words) that he, Silas, is not my landlord and the he (Don) will not get involved with troubles between we (Silas and I) two. He (Don) says that he didn’t want to rent the house in the first place and did so only on Hillary’s request on Silas’ behalf. I then hear that he (Silas) has NO intention of renting ANY part of the house, should I leave AND that he would like me to stay. Says he ” I have NO authority to kick you out or ask for anything because I signed the lease with Don, not you. This whole place is my responsibility.” BINGO DUDE! He wants to make it all right, give me the key, let things settle, try to make it work. (Me: NOT! FUCK YOO-OO-oo!!!! Though I did not say so. THEN… THEN… THEN…
*******************************
****AN ORDER OF PROTECTION****
*******************************
A BLOODYFUKKING ORDER OF BLOODYFUKKING PROTECTION !!!!!
*******************************
He took out a BLOODYFUKKING ORDER OF PROTECTION !!!!! Tells me that I’ll probably be served AT WORK !!!! Says that the authorities told him that his reasons for the order were all “circumstantial” but, says he, he paid 155$ for it anyway! THEN says that all he really wants is a note from me promising that I won’t harm him or the house AND that it will put his mind at rest! After he has that, everything will be fine. You know what? I let it ride. WHAT THE FUCK else is there to do? He’s SO bloody psychotic that the best way to handle it is to simply do what one does with Alzheimer’s patients, addresse him, his illness, the way I was trained to handle the patients in the psych hospital who were deemed “Clinically Untreatable”: Be where THEY are at the moment. There’s no “bringing him back”, no orientating. He’s GONE, done, finished, beyond, out. The lights aren’t just “not on”… they’re not even there! (23.12 I no sooner got these words out when 3 e-mails came in from Silas, proving my point. I’ll post them here. on their own page. If this were the good old days, I’d do the world a favour and have him put FAR away.) He then claimed that he’ll “call off” the server. (Claims they told him he can do that.) Just no more courts. Says he was told that my “Termination of Lease” has nothing valid in it and that I’m in violation of more than he is. Says that I was charging him with “dirty dishes” and “not putting out the garbage”. He then claimed that he didn’t smell the garbage because his sinuses are mostly scar tissue from the multiple surgeries he likes to use as an excuse when he can. He then claimed that Hillary told him that the house stunk and that’s when he put the garbage out! Then he tells me that he doesn’t want to go to court. (Indeed, my take is that he’s afraid to go to court. Well, especially after the e-mails of tonight, I welcome the opportunity to take him in front of a full court of law.) I was still in the tub through most of this, he stood in the hall, out-side the bath-room. I told him: You threaten my transportation which puts me in a position where I won’t be able to go to work, won’t be able to make a living, won’t be able to pay my bills OR move out! He claimed he’d thought of that and so, never acted on it. (I believe NOT one lettre of ANYthing that comes out of his mouth.) The bath-room conference ended with us going down to the kitchen to find the key that hasn’t worked and, in the kitchen, there stood Heather. (Silas said “I told you my girl-friend was here.” – I was in a towel and flip-flops! But I didn’t and don’t care.) “I hope you 2 are making peace. This has all been stressful on me.” says she. As if I care about HER OR her “STRESS”. Then Silas goes into “I’ve been cooking but only eating little bites because this has bothered me so much.” Oh… BULL-SHIT! – Well… we’re in the kitchen and he tells me that the key for the bolt is the same as for the knob! I NEVER knew that! So I tried the key I’ve been using and… with a bit of jiggling… THE BLOODY KEY FUKKING WORKED!!! But he took the other one anyway, with a promise to bring me a new copy if his key. BUT, he HAD to bring Heather home and he’d be back with the key. Let me “bottom-line”: Text message and voice… He went to So. BTV AND to get the oil changed in the car! In other words… AGAIN, the key was NOT important! SO! Nothing, as far as I’m concerned, has changed. And I’m MORE convinced that he’s toast above the shoulders. I lost a great deal of notes recorded for Saturday and one very important note must be added: At 12.19 a text arrived: I CAN MOVE INTO THE NEW PLACE WHEN I’D LIKE TO! THIS NIGHT-MARE COMES TO A CLOSE AT LAST! I don’t want to leave this house or the room. I happen to love the house and room. But staying here, with Silas is nothing but instability and uncertainty. I don’t want to leave but, I must!

Sun.28.Oct: It was a non-stop night at work. 12 solid hours of doing something, just doing all night, ending with me doing the “A.M. Care”, washing , dressing, &c. It wasn’t all bad. It felt OK to be doing what I was used to, what I’d done for so many years, but what Vermont has forbidden me to do. – It felt rather OK to leave work this morning, thinking I could simply drive to the house and into the space I’d been parking, back when this was my “Home”. I had some doubts but this morning, I brushed them aside, decided to take the chance. As I pulled in, Silas came out of the house, toward the car. I opened the car door, and before I could step out, he reached in, gave me a nestling sort of hug. (In one respect, it was a joy, and yet, I can’t shake the truth: He’s nasty, mean, psychotic, and certainly not to be trusted. What a damned shame!) He began to apologise for all the extra suffering he’s caused me. He’s regretting having had a “Stay Away Order” issued against me. He wants to ensure that I’m not served. He talked, we talked, on into the kitchen where, from about 8.00 to 13.00 he bounced from all the good times we’ve had to not being able to afford this place alone, insisting that “one of us has to leave”, the good times we’ve had, not wanting me to be served the “Order”, having taken wrong advice from others, admitting that he’s listened to the wrong people, telling me that all our fights began when we came here, (and I, insisting that “*I* have never had a ‘fight’ here. Not with you. *I* have had disagreements, have been going through what other people go through when they begin closer relationships. Maybe *you* have been ‘fighting’ me, but *I* have not been ‘fighting’ you.”, he seemed to understand this (for the moment). I told him of the multi-level emotional bond I have with and for him. I explained to him how, his father hasn’t been there for him for most of his life, how I saw that his mother encouraged him to drop his life in California, after YEARS of not being available to him, bringing him into her home only to spend about 9 months (his calculation) deriding him, insulting him, and all the while not offering him any support or encouragement or help… how that put him, in my eyes, in a position where-by I felt an obligation, as a human-being, as a person of his parents’ age, as a “parent” of a child 2 years older than he, to give what help I could. Indeed, I admitted that he’d become my “friend”, “companion” and my “child”. I told him that when he lashes-out at me I see it as a parent sees the rebellions of their child, that yes, it hurts, but that it doesn’t diminish nor destroy the caring or love. He got a bit quiet, appearing to consider this. – As we spoke, he began cooking “bao”, an Asian steamed dumpling/pastry that he’d found a recipe for, was rather proud of learning to make and had wanted to show and share with me. We continued to talk, have a true dialogue. I told him of my thoughts for the future, together, in this house, through the coming Winter and Spring into Summer. I told him that I do not want to leave, but am being forced out for reasons I still don’t understand. He simply said the same thing he’s been saying: I scared the shit out of him when I lost my temper recently and slammed a door. We both admitted that neither of us knows the other very well, but I was quick to add that he seems un-willing to invest the time to get to know me better. As well, he seems un-willing to allow the time needed to settle-in here, to invest any energy or time in getting to know me, to working together on building a “home”. I told him it appears that he wants everything immediately and to be presented “complete” with-out any effort. *He admitted that he does. And again, today, I explained to him that, for un-known reasons, he will, in all likelihood, wake up, 18 years from bow, on his 50th birthday and suddenly see that most, if not all these things that seem daunting today, were truly not worth the anxieties he’s allowing them to cause now. I suggested he confirm this by asking others who are over the age of 50. – We then discussed Heather… To me, most fascinating was his own admission: He brought her here because he can’t be alone, she was supposed to stay only a day or 2 but manipulated more time, is in fact “needy” (*his word*), used the washer and dryer because she needed to do laundry, annoyed him by leaving her clothes on the dryer and that it was her doing to post on Facebook that he (Silas) is now in a relationship and no longer available to date others. He says she did so with-out his knowledge and found out only by following other posts on Facebook. I made no comment other than to say that I’d seen that, and that convinced me that I HAD to leave promptly to get out of the way of his relationship. He claimed that that’s not the case, that he is not in a “relationship”, and that my presence in this house has no bearing on any relationship he might establish. I managed to bring the matter of the “Order of Protection” into the conversation since all was going peacefully. He said he does NOT want me to be served and that he’ll “do everything to make this right”. I asked him what date and time the court appearance will be and, with a little pause he told me “November 6 at 10.45.” (You know? I still didn’t completely believe him, but…) I then told him that, in my opinion, the way I feel, his ONE absolutely un-forgettable and un-forgiveable action against me in all the time I’ve known him is (to that point in time): Just as Dianne Olsen (Days Inn Shelburne) found me guilty, sentenced and condemned me, just as the State of Vermont had found me guilty, sentenced, condemned and is PERSECUTING not prosecuting me, he TOO, has done and continues to do the EXACT same thing, with particular reference to the window screen and all else, in spite if his claimed out-rage with the former two. He admitted that he was presumptuous, reacted quickly and wrongly and that there really is no damage. The one thing that I still cannot believe happened though is this:
*** As he cooked, he looked at me and admitted: I gave him help, hope, support and encouragement at a time when that’s what he needed most. And (very much un-like EVER before in my existence… truly-so), he THANKED ME! ***
During all of this, it was discovered:
1. ***** Admission that 2 out of 3 ex-room-mates in California don’t communicate with him because he left them and California under conditions not un-like these that he’s experiencing with me. That only 1 out of 3 room-mates correspond with or communicate with him and even then, it’s “a little stressful”. ******
2. **** He got the “Order” AFTER receiving my lettre to him saying that I’m leaving.*****
3. Don, the owner, has been a source of contention, feeding him what we both agreed are “Old Lady” instigations:
•Claiming there are repairs needed to the window screen for 3,50$. (I took Silas out-side, walked round the house, showed him ALL the window screens, demonstrated how they are removed and inserted AND that EVERY one has SOME dents and damage-of-sorts, AND that those have been there since BEFORE we arrived. *Silas agreed.
•That the smoking issue was further instigation when the statement “I see you have the thermostat set at 70 and he’s got his windows open. I’ll bet he’s up there smoking.” *Silas admitted that he knows I wash the up-stairs regularly AND that it doesn’t smell of cigarettes, AND he added “HOW does Don know what the thermostat is set at unless he’s been in to look!?”
•That Don has discussed Hillary and her personal matters with him (Silas).
•That Don is handling his wife’s cancer situation and to avoid much of that, takes on small repair jobs round Richford so to keep busy.
•That wife (Connie) is angry with him because he’s made it known round town about her cancer and she wanted no one to know.
4. That because of surgical scar-tissue (he’s repeatedly claimed this to be a fact), he didn’t smell cigarettes in the house but Don and Hillary claimed to have done. (At this point I told him that I found the entire situation ludicrous because Don is essentially allowing Hillary to smoke illegal substances in this house, in Silas’ room AND that, in the event of a drug bust, I too would be arrested because of my presence in the house, putting ME in jeopardy… and with FULL knowledge of that possibility!)
5. That, because of the scar-tissue, he didn’t smell the rotting garbage but that Hillary made him aware of it by telling him that “the house” smelled of it and that it was really bad.
6. His parents never really did offer him much in the way of parental support or concern and that, he feels, they rather left him on his own to fend. He implied that it had something to do with drug use and the period (60′s and early 70′s thinking),
7. Hillary actually DID, for reasons still un-known, start the “cold shoulder” (Silas’ words) attitude toward me: “I don’t know him, he’s not *my* friend, I don’t owe him anything.” (Silas’ words, as per Hillary.)
8. That his Post Office job has been a disappointment because he was “promised” full-time hours and that he resents the new PM coming in and giving him only 6 hours per week.
* At one point, some time around noon I’m thinking, as we talked, Silas suddenly said, firmly and determined “GO TO MY ROOM! GO TO MY ROOM!” He’d heard a knock at the door. Yrs, indeed, it was the Sheriff, here to serve me. He DID take an Order! However, even as he, himself admitted, at the door, he “lied to an officer of the law”: he told the Sheriff that I was NOT in the house. I couldn’t hear the conversation because I did go into his room and they spoke out on the porch. But when he came back in, he repeated, looking into my eyes, “I will make this right.” (I can almost imagine how his making this “right” will only end up hurting me… again.) *
– This all ended when I said that I truly couldn’t stay awake any longer because of having been awake for about 30 hours. He asked for the broom, followed me up-stairs to get it and on the way, stopped at my little “mail-box” on the stair-way to get and hand me the new key to the bolt-lock. I gave him the broom and went down-stairs to try the new key. It works perfectly. We chatted a bit more as he washed dishes, scoured the sink, swept the kitchen floor. He asked me to look at a video on-line, which I did. I then simply HAD to get some sleep BUT before leaving him in his room alone, I brought up one final point:
***How he’d left Heather here, in the house, alone with me, and yet, HE didn’t trust me, thought I’d destroy the house, “torch” it, and that he claims to believe that I’m capable of inflicting bodily harm. I pointed-out that that was contradictory and, if not, disrespectful and negligent toward Heather. He rather agreed.***
– It must have been close to 14.30 when I finally got to bed, intending to sleep only an hour. Since we (Silas and I) were having peaceful, healthy conversation, I wanted the chance to have more. I set the alarm on my phone for 15.58, got under the blankets and… essentially, passed out in fatigue. – At 19.54 tonight, I woke. The house was empty, Silas’ car in the yard, Hillary’s as well. Kitchen ceiling light on. I’ve presumed Silas was visiting Hillary. – When I heard him come back, I went down-stairs, to spend time with him, time I probably won’t have much more of. His room was dimly lit, silent. I came back up-stairs, disappointed. I replied to the text about taking the new place. I asked for move-in round 1st Dec. I checked Twitter. By about 23.30, I gave up on the day, gave in to fatigue, put out the light. Rather than feeling the day “closed” or “done”, this day felt… “died”.

Mon.29.Oct: 7.43 I begin this day, sitting on the floor, rocking, trembling, crying: I want a Home, I want a home. – Court. For threatening Silas. Court. For threatening another person. Accused, again, of being able to inflict harm. And, the thoughts of having to move, again. HAVING to MOVE… AGAIN! I’m STILL HOMELESS! – 9.54 “The Bitch List” is posted on the fridge. A place to list grievances for both of us. Silas’ name over the left column, to give him the importance of being listed first, something he needs in his life. An attempt at keeping a friendship. No doubt, to be misunderstood, misconstrued, used against me. I’ve put one on already: I love you as a Friend, Companion and Son. You know this because I told you. You can hurt me and do when-ever you can. Possible Resolution: TALK TO ME. – 14.11 At the close of yet another “Heart-to-Heart” with Silas, standing in the kitchen. An admission that he needs medications to control his negative, violent reactions (I need to make a bullet-list!), that from the age of 3 he’s lived in rentals (His scenario: I would get a gift and have to get rid of something I had so there’d be less to pack.) and therefore is unable to form a bond with any place. I made the point that his mother and Gwen both said to him that by taking him into their home they were taking the responsibility of having to, in the event that he falls on his face, pick up the pieces, lick his wounds and clean up his mess. I pointed out to him that he doesn’t HAVE to do that here, but, that decision is HIS alone, I do not want to hear his decision now, I won’t listen to an immediate decision and that he should take time to consider and think about the option and opportunity I just gave him. He is, he claims, en route to the Court to try to stop in “Order” process. Do I trust? Nope. But, age and experience on my side: I will see… in time. – Oh, and last night when he was out? He’d gone to Don, spent time talking about the possibility of having to break the lease. He realised that he cannot throw me out but that, according to the statutes of the State, should all of this go to court, the State WILL view him as a “landlord”, WILL view me as a “tenant” of his, and will proceed on that basis… Apparently Don told him that VT judges tend to favour tenants. Silas is now doing everything to avoid Courts. – Oh and: when I said that I am willing to put my potential rent for else-where into this house, he replied “You don’t owe me any more money.” Words, un-documented. But… -Just before he left fir Court he said, as a preface to a statement concerning some future event (that, at this moment I can’t recall): “What-ever happens after this, where-ever it goes…” He’s thinking. – He’s a lot like Mark: the meds dull his senses, kill his libido, are un-pleasant in side effects… he becomes non-compliant. Mark! – He also said:’ I’m in my room, alone and you’re in your room alone and quiet. I sit and wonder if you’re mad and if I’ve done something wrong.’ It made me tear to hear that; how very much like me he is in that. We both know that feeling, whether founded or not. How God-awful to think of another human-being having to suffer that thought! – 19.57 And yet, another Heart-to-Heart in the kitchen. However, Silas returned from “Court” at about 16.30 or so. Seems (at least how I hear it) the Court allowed him to rescind the Order. Says he, “It’s shredded.” Apparently the Court agreed it was “un-founded” (Silas’ terminology). Me? Planning on being in Court on the 6th or stopping by the Court to make certain. (Even after tonight’s kitchen chat.) He has been proven to be a bold liar. No telling here. – Tonight’s discussion revealed that he’s actually planning on getting a Postal job in Shelburne. He’s convinced himself he’ll just walk in, land the job and work 3 days/week. He rang and asked Gwen if he could stay there, back at mommie’s, the 3 days and he’s planning to keep this place through the lease. Meanwhile, I’m being brutally honest about not wanting to leave this house. He’s being stead-fast about hating this house, claiming the people in Richford have been horrid toward him. (They haven’t. He’s angry because his hours at work were decreased. Typical of the illness.) And again, the admission that he needs meds to stabilise his mood. Tonight though, is particularly difficult for him. He came back from Court (assuming that’s actually where he went, I tend to think he went to mommy, but…) soaked through with sweat. He’s got another “tonsil infection”, due to stress says he, the 3rd or 4th since I met him. He took his temp: 99 says he. But he truly was soaked with sweat so there truly is something wrong. I do wish I could help. I have nothing on hand. Alas and oh well. Perhaps Creation is taking care of injustices. I leave it at that. – Tonight, the sleeping bag and bedding is washed, clothes washed, jammie-sweats in the dryer, and I even washed a bed pillow! Clean! AND I took a SHOWER! Gow REFRESHing! No bath! – Took a stroll to the dépaneur Mayhew for smokes and a cheapie pastry. Today’s only meal: tinned ravioli and a pastry. We’re following with “Cabin Fever” (NH whiskey “infused” with VT maple. Disgusting but 80 proof and hopefully enough to wipe out this day… at least for tonight. – 20.21 Silas is at Hillary’s and I’m here alone. The wind has been utterly magnificent all day. Tonight it’s coming in Nor’east. A bit of rain has begun. I’m looking forward to what Nature has to slam Vermont with and I’m hoping and praying it’s equal to what I’d like to hit Vermont with… Silas and Hillary immediately parked in the garage out back. I moved the car closer to the house, out from under the oak in the back. If the wind continues Nor’east, the tree will go down through our power lines and into Hillary’s front porch or to the street. No matter, I don’t much really care. I’m looking forward to becoming anestitised and enjoying the storm… and fuk VT, this house, Silas, Hillary and ALL of this shit. If tomorrow comes, it will be… tomorrow. – I’ll post this to Journal now, just to get it posted

Tue.30.Oct: (Wed.31.Oct 8.06) It was quite another day today, and one of even more revelations. For me, it was another day in the house… mostly working further on the “mural” which, to my delight, is coming along rather nicely. It was a day of sunshine, then cloud, then rain, then sunshine and rain, then sunshine, repeat, all through the day. It was ANOTHER day of NO PHONE service! I pay 45$/month for “no service”. Silas is paying over 100$/month for… NO SERVICE! Hillary is paying, I believe, round 80$/month for… NO SERVICE! And I will say, UNashamedly… WE are paying ATT for this thievery! – That said, on with the show. Silas is quite ill (again). It took him the better part of the day to get him-self together. He was expected to attend a “Job Fair” at some point for the Winter Season tourism and hospitality industry… Don’s wife, Connie, had encouraged him and, as I’m to understand, was expecting him to at least visit. Well, as is Silas, he slowly got prepped, shower, shave, &c and dressed with neck-tie, printed CVs and round-about 16.00 was out the door. At round about 19.30 he returned… with Heather. He did NOT go to the Job Fair, rather, he went, ill as he is, to get Heather! What can I say? This is how he is, and, when the screws come tightening because of it, he’ll spiral into Mr. “Fuktheworld” and there will be shit all over. I see, I know, I AM prepared. Hey! WTF and FTW and “FTD” and F ATT. There’s a bottom line to my attitude and that is: ME, I happen to LIKE this house AND the space in it AND its location AND I’m BloodyFukking TIRED of BloodyFukking MOVING! AND I’m fed-right-the-fuk-up with mood shifts and threats. I can, with some re-adjustments to some things, afford THIS place OR another place close by and, well, in light of details of today’s kitchen chat… – But, as I say, there were Revelations during the course of the day. Great and Grand Revelations:
•His departure from California WAS quite similar to the atmosphere he creates here.. Negative.
•He ISN’T on “good terms” with most of the people he left behind.
•He DOES depend on meds to stabilise mood AND he HAS been non-compliant for a long while; not taking them because of the side-effects.
•He DOES harbour a bit of resentment against his mother for being so insistent that he come to VT that he DID, essentially, drop all and cut most to come here on little more than a half-witted promise of a better life.
•He IS a bit angry about having been “invited” into mothers’ home to be “trapped”, jobless and rather ridiculed, with no offers of help.
•Apparently, he’s confided in Don about my status here, in this house and has been told about the “realities”:
-I’m not really your landlord but
-if this goes to Court, the way the laws of VT are written, I am.
-VT is pro-tenant and the Courts will see me as your landlord and pretty much destroy me.
-I told Don I don’t WANT to be a landlord and I’m tired of it!
-My biggest mistake when we got here was not letting you put your name on the lease.
-I have no rights if we go to Court.
-I CAN’T throw you out, you can stay here as long as YOU want AND
-You DON’T HAVE to pay ANYTHING because MY name is on the lease and I’M responsible for everything!
-So now he’s feeling trapped in this respect.
•He took the “Order” because of the legality of my lettre. The “Order” was THE ONLY legal paper he could slap me with… the ONLY paper that was backed by something “legal” AND he did so thinking it would be JUST between us. It rather shook him when he realised that the State was involved. THAT was NOT what he’d expected.
•The emptiness in the house bothers him terribly (living-room and kitchen being devoid of furniture) and makes him feel isolated.
•He asked me to give him a blank receipt from the book I have so he could write me a receipt for the 1200$ I owe as my half of move-in. He wants to forgive it. (I note for my future reference: Silas said “When you get money from PJ, use it to get yourself a car.” I told Silas, “I’ve finished with that. It appears to me, and he understood perfectly, that THAT is where ALL of our tensions and frictions began: I was stupid in depending on a blank promise, stupid to not see that nothing was forth-coming when communication ceased right after my plea, stupid for not writing it off sooner. Now, it’s my ethical duty and responsibility to give him what I owe him and I accept that. He will get his money, somehow. He appreciated that.
•He’s been of the belief that our “fighting” has destroyed any “friendship” we may have had. I told him that *I* have not had any “fights” but it’s a matter of perspective. It’s his impetuousness that makes him want everything to be perfect immediately and that he has the opportunity to “work”, at pace, to “settle” this “new life” of his, and that there will be disagreements and discrepancies and tensions. But, he needs to be open, communicate concerns when they happen and talk to and with me.
•He agreed that, when we talk, we don’t fight, it’s always calm and civil.
•He told me that it hurts him to know what Dianne and Vermont have done to me: that this Court issue has essentially put me in a position where I can’t get another job, move to a place where they’ll do a back-ground check.
Then came the moment: When I pointed-out that my hours now give me a considerable (though not great or perfect) income and that if he has to stay here alone, Winter will mean heating… his electric heater will cost considerably, the oil will cost, and if he doesn’t find the income, he’ll be “out” in many more serious ways than one and that now, I can help HIM, like he helped me by getting me here. Ah HAH! I’m OK now. Things are suddenly much better. (But, to keep SOME control, he was quick to say that he’s giving his situation only 2 weeks to improve and that he’ll make a decision on what he wants to do with his life after that. Oh well.) – So, as I say: *I* like this house and such, and right now I need certain things (a CAR!!!!!) SO… *I* will do what *I* must do to have what *I* want… and now that HE understands HIS ‘predicament’ as it were, *I* will see where and how it goes. – As the day came to a close, we 3 (Heather) sat in the kitchen as Silas cooked. We chatted, it was cute: those 2 are the most “16 year old 30 year olds” imaginable. Priorities, perspectives and all. But, as I listened to them I thought: how fortunate they are to have that luxury… I had the luxury of being 16… when I was 6. I’m not resentful. – When I came back to “my” space, more photos of Rockaway: Destruction beyond belief! Again, my heart got ripped and torn and shredded! At about 20.30 I put me under the blankets, put the light out and tried for sleep… with the radio on. Tonight I needed the comfort of sound, the comfort of voice, the reminder that I am 2km from the HOME of MY Heart, MY Soul, MY Spirit, MY Core-being. MINE! And *I* will *NOT* allow *ANY*one to take that from *ME*!!!!!
Wed.31.Oct: Woke, on my own, for no reason, refreshed, at 6.00! – 12.16 It was SO hot out when, at about 9.00, I went for cigs, and just this moment, the temperature plummeted, wind kicked and it’s POURING with rain! I mean, the change happened with-in 60 seconds! – And STILL NO FUKKING PHONE! – 13.23 It’s been a day of coffee (no food). The “wall” is coming along delightfully! Essentially complete, there’s more I want to work into it. And now there’s time. – Nanc and Silas sent texts. The shit-phone won’t send replies. There’s a voice message; the shit-phone won’t connect to ANY calls! Fukking ATT! – The sun is glaring in through the windows and it’s COLD! I have a shift tonight and am going to nap. – SHIT! Tomorrow’s NOVEMBRE ALREADY! – 14.12 Messages came through on the phone! Voice message! Silas is back in for training and has more hours next week! (I think we’re both excited,) And I have a place to go to on 1 Dec. if I still need! – OK. Nap. – Napped.:
“When things ain’t goin’ good that’s when everything goes bad…”
I got showered. Poor Silas in misery with his tonsillitis or what-ever it is that’s got him down. We had another beautiful kitchen chat today so the house-hold was at peace. And I went off to work. The drive went well, and slow as Hell as I followed some sort of live-stock transport along most of the way. And, arriving at the job, the World just went to shit, on several accounts… My little Lady had taken quite the turn… for quite the worst. The family was there… to spend the night. Mme. is on what I call ‘terminal care’. For me, another assault to the heart. Although peaceful, it pains me to think she may linger in what is almost a comatose state. She certainly doesn’t deserve to suffer. And, again, here’s yet another devout Catholic, un-questioning faith in “God”, once productive and hard-working, stripped of all, at the mercy of those around her. At one point, as I stood there, the argument over admin. of morphine. Morphine? She’s calm! Morphine? Guarantee resp. failure. Better to decapitate. (It was with-held.) The family treated me as one of them, thanking me for all, appreciative beyond imagination, not rushing me, talking. That much felt nice. But… as we talked, the news covered the hurricane destruction in Rockaway. NOTHING remains! NYC is a wash-out. And it struck me… with all its might:
I’m now with-out income. I’m in a house where I’m really not wanted. I’m in a house where the lease-holder is planning on leaving in 2 weeks, leaving me in the streets. I have a place to move to, but now, can no longer afford. I have a car that has tyres with no tread, a bad engine, needs oil change, and can’t afford better. I can’t get more work at another job because of this frivolous charge against me (thanks to Dianne Olsen of Days Inn Shelburne… fuk it, I’m NOT keeping my mouth shut any longer), AND even if there was a way to go BACK to NYC… there’s NOTHING THERE! Not even a shelter! TRAPPED! TRAPPED! DONE! FINISHED! THE END. There comes a time when it all becomes so blatantly clear and obvious that what one needs to do is simply leave… and this is that time. Just “leave”, quietly, and for, well, ever ad always. This is the time… to go! Well? I’m “packed and ready”. Logistics are all that remain. “Friends” will support. Enemies will hinder. So just… go. I’m ready now. – I lingered an hour, called the office and came back to the house that I’ve come to love. Silas’ good news for coming week was a relief, More hours, training for better position. We chatted as I prepped a tin of soup for my “meal”. By about 22.00 he went to bed, and I jokingly texted little “Nursey” lines (Are you asleep? Are you thirsty? Do you need the bathroom? I’m your Nurse, can I get you something?) I retired ‘my’ room, he retired in his. – Spent the rest of the night on Twtr, feeling like a completely useless entity whose time to get out of the way has come. I’m of no value or use here, in this house, this town, this State. I’m of no value or use in NY… the City or the State. I’m a docket number on a calendar in a State that’s already financially burdened and now I can’t go back to the place I know because it’s even MORE burdened AND there’s literally NO “place” to go TO! The one person whom I thought I could work and strive with toward a “life” repeatedly reminds me “I can’t live with you.” and “I’m giving the situation 2 weeks from this past Monday and if it doesn’t improve for me I’m leaving.” (HE goes back to his mommie…) Yup. Time to get out of the way. – Oh, and empty gas tank light came on as I drove back to the house tonight.

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As I try to post from Comments to page, I see that there are some items not included and others that are duplicated. Octobre was a wretched month!!!!! So I’m just including what may or may not have been lost… here…
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*** Transcript Wed.5Sep 9:55 Hey there. Sorry about the dishes, will do them when I get in
Sun.9Sep 21.19 The 1200 from pj, use it to pay for a new vehicle. Don’t worry about the money, get me back when you can.
Mon.24Sep 14.23 I’m always here if you need me :)
Tue.25Sep 10.59 It’s your place too.
•11:09 Not sure what’s eating at you, if I said or done something to make you feel like shit. But this is you place, and I’m your friend, first and foremost.
(Re: 400$ paid for heating oil covers 400$ toward rent)
Thu.27 Sep 22:23 I’m getting worked up. I’m not some money grubbing asshole.
•22:28 Not sure why you’re taking this out on me.
•22:32 This completely blind sided me. You paid the utilities, that’s all you owe. We’ll leave it at that. I’ll take care of the rest. Gnight.
•22:48 This has completely blind sided me.
•22:55 Not sure how throwing personal stuff at me was not going to hurt ne, but whatever. Fuck me for getting this place. But I’m here. And I’ll make it work.
•23:02 I’m done talking about this. Do as you will. Gnight.
Fri.28Sep 00:35 You’ve managed to completely fuck me over.
•00:37 You’re gonna ditch out I can already see it. There was not even a glimmer of a chance this entire time. And I’m the biggest puts
•00:40 I’m just watching it all fall apart
•00:41 I can’t fucking write it
•00:43 It’s just done
•00:49 Then why am I the enemy? Or the idiot? Why are you so angry with me?
•00:49 I don’t get it
•00:50 And make peace? There’s no war
•00:51 If you didn’t want to be here, why say you wanted to move in?
•00:53 Shut I’m just naive
•1:02 I do dishes, you get pissy that I’m doing them. I leave them, you leave them, Don’t know what you’re about.
•1:03 I need your share of the rent and utilities, you say I moved out prematurely
•1:08 No. I made you a promise. I’ll cut you a check for 400.
•1:09 You stay as long as you need. That was my promise.
•1:09 And I will not go back on it.
•1:10 If you’re not happy with me then don’t be here with me. Simple as that.
Thu.4 Oct 16:41 My hours got cut 99%
(Re: Court)
Wed.10 Oct 21.32 Stick it out. It’s almost finished
•21:32 Take a breath
•21:33 Don’t let her take your power or sense of self. She don’t diserve that
•*shrug* what ever happens it will work out
•21:39 Shit is never as bad as it seems
•21:40 This is no exception
•21:42 You go to court and get it dismissed, take the paperwork, go to Quebec and celebrate
•21:42 That’s how it’s handled
•21:53 You know I’m here
•22:00 No but I care for you
*** Transcript NOTICE TO VACATE/REQUEST FOR KEY 19 Oct.10.28am
Fri.19 Oct
Out: 17.37 – we need to discuss the kitchen situation tomorrow
In: 17.59 – Did not realize I was inconveniencing. Will keep the sink clear for ya man. Sorry
Sat.20.Oct
In: 8.28 – *hugs*
Out: 8.33 – The window bak rm is open U bolted the door locked me out
In:8.33 – Shit I’m sorry
In:8.33 – I’ll fix your keys
In:8.42 I fucked up work for you going in, fucked it up coming back
In:854 – Was it really necessary to break the screen instead of call me?
In:855 – No at this point save it. I’m done. That’s bullsht.
In:9.01 – I get to pay for it with money I don’t have. Thanks you’re a pal.
Out: 9.29: The fucming screen is i vi fine
In: 9.36 – The screen is completely bent forward, window wide open, the frame won’t sit correctly now
Out: 9.30 – The fucki?nb screenvisv not broken
(Message did not go out) I suggest you look before accusing me
Out: 9.31 – The screen is NOT BROKEN WAts your problem
In: 9.41 – End of my shift I’m putting in my two weeks.
In: 9.45 – Got to pay the screen. What else? My comp probably which I’m still paying off, or both and my clothing and bed because you’ll torch the place
In: 10.02 – You broke my heart Jude. I thought you were a good person, really did. I’m a moron for that. You spit on everything I wanted for you, and made me feel like a puts
In: 10.05 – You respect me as much as the livingroom smells like stale cigarettes, the broken screen, the slamming door, calling Hilary a whore. Want to know why Hilary is a whore? Because she offered to buy me food, pay for my share of the fuel because you shirk your rent and leave it on my back
In:10.07 – And don’t tell me “this is how you’ve always felt” because until walking outside seeing mangled window and bent screen did I realize how misplace my trust and love has been.
In:10.08 – So break it, burn it, throw a tantrum. I’ll be there to pay for it all.
Out: 10.28 – You can have this house. Today I’ve begun looking for another place. I’ll provide notice per lease, continue payments as agreed. Leave me alone. Send your messages in writing.
Sun.21.Oct.
Out: 10.29 – Hi. When you can, would you please get a key for the bolt lock? For the meanwhile. Just in case. Thanks.
***Full Transcript Wed.24 Oct 2012
••From Silas Burton
•From Me
(Nothing prefaced these messages. I was on the bus into Burlington. We had just exited the 89 into Winooski when…)
••8.08: I owe you nothing. Do you hear me pounding on your door trying to kick you out? Do you hear me bitching at you, going legal on you? No.
••8.09: Our situation is 100% on you. I went to go see how you were doing, wish you luck for the trial, and saw that nasty letter on your bed.
••8.13: Listen here drama queen. When I leave this world ill be gone, ill serve another purpose. I have no hatred for you. No, it’s worse. I feel nothing. I feel more for Rachel, Melissa and my father then you. You tapped every reserve of compassion caring and emotion. Forever, and for anybody.
••8.15: When you leave here realize you’ve made a healer and a loving person into you. A pragmatic, angry, remorseless bitter asshole. And it’s only love that stays my hand from getting you out of the home I tried to build for us.
••8.19: Incidentally although I don’t believe in a punishing god, I do believe in demons. And when you go, know that you will be forced to live every moment of every person you hurt on the way to where you are.
••8.29: And you’ve also lost a third of my deposit because don smelled smoke in the house and questioned me about. Bravo, you’ve fucked over, abused, cursed and hurt the last human being that loved your worthless ass.
•8.30: Thank you for proving my suspicions about you to be perfectly correct. You cannot be trusted.
•8.31: And youre a chronic and compulsive liar.
••8.33: Just be the fuck out of here ASAP. I’m tired of crying over you worthless fuck.
••8.33: Get the curse the paper everything out of this house
•8.34: Take your meds, i’ll be talking with the lawyer this morning. I told you to leave me alone. You wont so I go legal.
••8.36: Ill be taking some pictures then, and making a phone call to the police about your car and present location
••8.38: I can’t go into your room but this camera can take some awesome pictures from the public domain of the hallway. Ill also be reporting threats, letting Hilary know what you said about her and letting don know you threatened on three occasions to burn this place down
•8.38: Yes tnank you for sending more threats
••8.38: No I’m acting on these right now.
••8.39: No thank you for threatening me Jude.
•8.43: I never threztened you I stayed out of your way worked with you to find a job youre wrlcome
•8.44: Got you the foreman grill wnen I couldnt afford it
•8.46: Walked bc I coulnt afvord gas
•8.56: I lost a days work last wkend on saturday nite, paid half utilities more than you asked for.
•8.58: Couldn’t afford it but paid the dinner in montreal… Because it made you happy… same fir the firmn grill.
•9.00: All youve done since we git to richfird is tell me to keave. Im doing that and you threaten me.
•9.02: Is this why you left California?I wonder.
•9.04: And you waited today until you knew I was out of the house. Very humane compassipnate.
•9.05: You will live my life. I wish you good luck with that.
••9.06: At this point it’s over. You need to stop talking to me. I’m scared of you after finding that letter and the Japanese character… You’ve scared the shit out of me.
•9.08: Btw I took pics of the room before leaving sent to Nancy.. just in case. See? I know you.
••9.10: Not interested in the room, just the scary letter you left for me
•9.10 We can only hate to the extent that we have loved. You keep that in mind.
••9.11: Stop talking to me
•9.13: You just remember: We can hate only to the extent that we have loved. Remember that
•9.19: We can dislike what we have liked, but can hate only what we have loved.
••9.22: So you do hate me.
•9.26 Yes Silas, I do. But I could never hurt you, so I’ve packed to leave, let you continue looking for your Life… Happiness.
•9.29: Unlike you, I can’t destroy other people. I grew up watching that and vowed I’d never be that kind of person.
•9.31: You’ve known that about me from day 1. Today you use it against me. I’m not fighting you.
•9.33: I’m trying to retreat in Peace. Please? Just let me leave in Peace?
•9.36: You don’t have to throw me out… I’m leaving, quietly, civily, harmlessly. Just let it go Silas.
•9.40: Last msg: You taught me to hate you & now I despise me for letting you do that.
••9.41: You have threatened Hilary, my home, my job. You told me you would burn that house down, shoot Hilary knee caps out. I chalked it up to stress, to anger.
••9.41: I forgave, never told Hilary or don.
••9.42: But hatred Jude? For me? I cannot forgive. Because if that’s true all those other things you said are true.
•9.43: Silas, remember only what you want, what majes you happy, what YOU choose. OK?
••9.45: I don’t hate you. I still love you, want the best for you. And that breaks my heart.
•9.46: I am peacegully looking at places to go to. How I leave your house is entirely up to you now.
••9.49: You assume I’m happy about you leaving. Or plotting or laughing. I feel like I’m tearing my own arm off to evict you from my prison.
••9.49: And I hate myself for failing you completely
••9.50: And knowing that I’m essentially giving up on you and acknowledging that I can’t help you
•9.48 You’ll advertise the room, get a nice person, cook, watch Netflix, come Summer you’ll BBQ.
•9.50: All of this now will have become part of an insignificant and forgotten past.
••9.51: No. I’m living alone. I quardened myself off in those two rooms and pretending its my apartment. The rest of the house will be a grave yard.
•9.54: Nah… Not the rare and luxuriously plumaged bird. You’ll be THE socialite of Franklin Cty!
•9.56: The porch parties will be the talk of VT with films at 11 on BOTH, PTZ AND CAX!
•9.59: People will talk about your events at Town Meetings. And no Ikea furniture, strictly Pink Lady… Classy all the way.
•10.01: Give it the time you can’t seem to give us… either of us, you nor me.
•10.04: Just do yourself one Kindness for now: let me leave peacefully, as I’ve been doing. Just that. No more. It’ll be soon, & quiet.
•10.07: I have to get moving along before I add charges of loittering and vagrancy against me… and my list is so full already!
•10.10: Oh, court convenes at 1:00. At 1:10 today it will be 1 year since I touched VT dirt. SHEEEEEE…YIT!
***** ***** *****
•13.02: It’s recommended that Don be brought into court in this matter. I’m asking you if this is how you want to handle it or avoid courts.
•13.05 Hillary will be subpoenaed too. The call is yours now.
••13.15: You’ve been threatening to me, this house, my neighbor. And I’ll do what I need to to protect us.
••13.19: Your delinquency of the first and last mo rent and this mo rent, damage to the property, and smoking as witnessed by don, on top of your threats both written and verbal as witnessed by myself and Hilary. You want this, you bring this. It’s already documented.
••13.20: In following the terms of our agreement and not kicking you out, but the rest? Up to you.
•13.31: Ok. Court it is. Papers are filed.
•13.33: Not permitted to discuss further.

Thu.25.Oct: Up at 8.00, stomach a complete mess, the water-runs, nothing but the dry breakfast cereal I’d eaten last night. Continuing yesterday’s account and watching the car, planning a difficult day to come. – 9.29 and back on the toilet. Just brown water. There’s a trip to the ER coming. – 10.51 Just posted yesterday to the Journal. “Tim” is delivering mail on the streets to the West. Silas and his … were up, in the kitchen. All is quiet again. I keep checking on the car between journalling and running to the toilet. Have decided to get to the library this evening before work, Things to record, print. And it gets me out of here… SICK! AGAIN thinking “get me out of here”! But I DO want to be here when the lettre arrives. And I hope Silas is here! Well, I’ll print and send a back-up, not certified. I believe that should be done anyway. He’s not prompt about getting the mail… so. So?Just more of his irresponsibility to bring to general attention. – I want a smoke. I need a nap. I need to eat. I need to shit… again. I NEED to get out of here! Oh, tomorrow! Please that it be… close enough to Perfect! If so, one more week of THIS… ONE WEEK! – 11.49 Track/Confirm shows the lettre didn’t even make Richford today! Silas and Co. just left in his car. Evil doings, no doubt.
*****
And a thought I had: He claims Don smelled smoke in the house, claims it was my cigs. As I recall, Don never came into the house and, if he did, (I was in my room all the while) he didn’t come up-stairs. The house smells of garbage and any “smoke” down-stairs would be Silas’ incense and Hillary’s marijuana.
*****
I’ll working tonight on no nap, little sleep, no food. Tomorrow morning I’ll come back to this Hell. It’s not suicidal, it’s pre-meditated murder.
*****
12.05 A visit to the washer/dryer room has confirmed: the girl has moved in. A basket FULL to over-flow of her clothes is on the dryer, 2 extra bottles of shampoo in the shower. I am, essentially, no longer permitted to use laundry or shower. Fortunately I have the bath-tub up-stairs. I’ll have to figure a way to do my wash now.
*****
Midnight. At work. The day is done. The morning was passed up-dating records and Journal. – I took advantage of the time alone to check the mail. THE LETTRE IS IN RICHFORD! BUT THE DIK-HEAD CARRIER DIDN’T KNOCK TO DELIVER IT! JUST LEFT THE NOTICE! Well, Silas will have to go to his Post Office to get that. (Meanwhile, the regular copy got posted this evening at the Ensbrg PO box.) Silas isn’t in the habit of checking the mail (full of notices for him, bills, late payments and such). But that doesn’t save him from the “Termination of Lease”. It merely helps to prove his irresponsibility. – This after-noon, I bathed, dressed and was ready to leave when Silas and… I believe the “girl” is “Heather Ann Hill”, a “friend” of his from FaceBook… returned. Funny, I was dressing quietly in my room when I heard foot-steps on the stairs. My door was open, back-pack by the door. The foot-steps retreated. They didn’t know I was in. At about 14.30 I left the house, front door, un-noticed. Had to walk round to get to the car and drive round to avoid passing the house. Bad enough I get no rest (again) and now I’m leaving for work almost 5 hours ahead. My case against dear Silas mounts by the moment. I’m thinking that I will be seeing him in court. The Vermont Statutes are on my side, as he’s soon to learn. – I headed into Enosburgh where, in the library I got computer time until about 17.30! Research on un-lawful lock-outs AND LEGAL PERMISSION to climb in that window when locked out! Well, it appears even the courts will agree that Mr. Burton is responsible AND accountable! Hello Judge! (Lawsuit for damages, coming up!) – Oh, before leaving the library I took a few moments to do some searching on my “landlord” and found his “girl”. HAD to send a photo to Nanc, for schitzengiggles. To my shock and amazement and joy, she replied! I was delighted to see word from her and felt guilty to disturb her vacation. Still, it’s a comfort to know somebody’s “there”, somebody who doesn’t hate me. – It was about 17.30 when I left the library so I strolled in search of the PO to post the regular mail copy of my lettre to Silas. It was a magnificent, warm evening and I thoroughly enjoyed the stroll along the street. Ended up in the banque where a “Jen” I worked with at JPMC greeted me! We chatted a while, a customer directed me to the PO and I was back out, strolling and really enjoying the village. I felt comfortable here this evening… with-out the tether to Silas. His lettre got put into the drop box at the PO. It will go out at 17.00 tomorrow. – I was SO hungry by now that I gave in and bought a Subway sandwich for work. (Now, Silas is costing me extra because I can’t store food or cook… again!) And… off to work. – When I got here, I HAD to start the sandwich and caught my-self eating thr way I used to, back in the Shelter days: frantic! It disgusted me! But at last… FOOD! I ate ,25% and headed in, to work, for the night. – Mme. has been having another fidgety night. Doesn’t that figure? – But tomorrow I get to look at a new place! Had I not lost a day’s pay because of the lock-out last week-end, I probably could have moved right in with the next pay-cheque. As ut stands, I’ll probably be about 100$ short! (Something else to sue the landlord for.) Well, I just hope the place is great and… no “hidden agendas”. – Well… day done.

Fri.26.Oct: ***** LOCKED-OUT AGAIN! THIS MORNING! NOBODU HOME! Fortunately, front door not chained.*****
1.20 WINDY tonight. Rumour of a hurricane on Monday/Tuesday coming. – 7.34 I thought this wouldn’t be happening again, but I was so wrong: sitting here, after a 12-hour shift, awake all night from about 8.00 yesterday morning, wasting time, trying to appear to have a purpose, a reason to be sitting here, in the car, in a parking lot, in the cold. Why? (a) Because I dread going to that house and (b) because I’m here, in town, where the Courthouse is and I want the papers needed to bring Silas Burton into court and in front of a judge! If for no other reason, this morning… and yesterday. I mean, yesterday I should have been able to get a nap, prepare food to be eaten at work, take a shower before coming in to work. I should have been able to wash my clothes for work. I was unable to any of these things. And let’s add the lousy day of work last week because he made false accusations and kept texting me so I couldn’t sleep after work. Add, while we’re at it, the fact that I couldn’t get to work was because he’d delayed me to the point that his bullshit with leaving a week’s worth of dishes in the sink made it necessary for me to stop at the market en route to work and just as I left the market, a police activity made it necessary to drive almost 50 miles to get to work, using all my gas. And so, today we have the gal-thing in the house and between the two if them it’s a constant drone of sound coupled with stomping feet and slamming doors. Tonight I have a 17.00 appointment for which I can’t go looking or feeling like shit. I’ll need a few hours of sleep during the day and there’s almost a stone-carved guarantee that that is not going to be possible. So here I sit, guys churning, and cold, waiting for a time when I can simply start the engine and hooray I make it to the Court-house in this thing (with a tyre that leaks air and is, for all I know, on a “hit list”. After all, Silas Lee Burton threatened me with the car… which adds to my list the fact that I have to find some place to park when I get to town because my space is no longer available! – This morning, the thought came to me however: As I read the State statutes I learned just how illegal all his actions are and what can be done about them. If all goes well, Mr. Burton will be finding himself on the very wrong end of a very deep law suit. Which brings me full circle as to why I’m still sitting here, in the car, in the lot, in the cold at 7.58… hoping the court clerk will be opening as I jot this and will be open by 8.30 at the very least so I can get the forms and go… to Hell… the house…. that house. – OK then… enough. Let the day roll (and my bowels hold, please?) – (14.30) Went to the Court-house. Nice guy in Clerk’s office told me there are “no Civil forms” for taking this into the courts. Suggested seeing an atty or going on-line to learn how to bring a Civil Action. He said he couldn’t give legal advice in his position. (14.31 a loud click downstairs. I thought I was alone in the house. Not going to investigate.) So I have more to do, away from here… library time! More driving, more time, more gas. Please let tonight go well, next pay cover the move! Then it will be only a matter of 11 more days of this… a week from Tuesday. I’m getting physically sick from this. – And so, no sleep for 26 hours at that point, drove back. – As Fate would have it, I’d stopped at the gas station in Enosburgh and continued on, and *** AS I DROVE OUT OF TOWN, AT THE BANQUE, I PASS SILAS LEE BURTON DRIVING SOUTH-BOUND! So I KNEW he wouldn’t be at the house when I arrived! *** – Got into Richford, parked the car away from the house again, but not in the same place as yesterday, walked up to the front, checked the mail: same as yesterday, he hasn’t gotten my lettre. Walked round to the back/kitchen door and… *** BOLTED AGAIN! *** NOBODY IN THE HOUSE! So I figured I’d try the front door, where the porch light has been on since his Ms. Whatsit arrived. No chain! So no Sheriff this morning. I simply came in, up-stairs, and readied for bed. It was almost 10.00 by now. -Once again, Fate: the Town is picking-up leaves from the streets so there are dump-trucks and such about. Some-how, I managed to drift off… until the 14.00 alarms. – Took a stroll down-stair to check windows and other possible means of non-damaging access to find the kitchen in total mess, sink FULL of dirty dishes, counter/stove tops covered in dishes and such. Took pictures and will post. Ms. Whatsit’s clothes still on washer/dryer. Oh, and now, even the side door to the house is sealed-off with a storm door SCREWED to the house! Only TWO doors available to get in! I see the Sheriff being here… perhaps tonight. Fortunately, the Statutes allow for getting in, and this issue is covered… by law. Still, it all makes me sick. That, and I have my appointment this evening… I don’t know IF the car is still there where I left it and I have to use the bath-tub again to bathe, which takes longer than the shower. (The Clerk told me to save every receipt for money I have to spend on food and such, to add to the suit against Silas Lee Burton, in addition to ALL changes and inconveniences.) – And so, after just under 4 hours sleep, I’m about to prep for this evening’s meeting. – As an additional note: I CAN’T EVEN SEND TEXT MESSAGES FROM THE PHONE AGAIN TODAY! Straight Talk, on the ATT Network is WORTHLESS! No voice, no text! Fukmeshit! Trying to text Nanc. Nofukkingo! –
•Locked out: Saturday 20 Oct. 8:40am
Entry via back-room window.
•Locked out: Friday 25 Oct. 10:00am
Entry via front door.
If there was an emergency, one that didn’t necessarily require 911, I’m essentially screwed. Well, I consider, it was Doug who recommended this. Enough said about that. –

(On Sat.27: 11.47) After another tub-bath, I was off and en route by about 16.30. Of course, I had to walk to get to the car, but, we do what we must in times of desperation. I left the house, wondering if the would be where I’d left if and if so, its condition. There’s just NO trusting a medicinally non-compliant Borderline personality. And Silas has been more than proof-positive of that. I left, quietly, saw no one in the house, left by the front door BUT AS I headed down the hill I heard the house door open from behind me: Silas decided to ‘do something’ on the porch, to come out of the house… (to see where I was going?). I simply walked on. Nothing to be said; nothing was said. – I was relieved to find the car where I’d parked it and it was fine. I was on my way in moments. – The drive was BEAUTIFUL! The landscapes, scenery, views of rolling meadows, farms and fields, hills and (small) mountains… it was refreshing and reviving. I did make one error along the way, bringing me back into a point I’d wanted to avoid. But it added a mere 8km to the trip and, as it turned out, brought me to my destination 5 minutes before schedule! “Tastefully on time”. – The town reminds me SO much of Walker Valley! SO VERY much! And the house? “The Monsignor’s” in St. Remy! Quite amazing. Truthfully, I felt I was visiting people and a place I’d been going to all my life. Even the drive reminded me of bits of Shongum and the Catskills. – The reception too was more “familiar” than not. These people are truly wonderful! Even the kitten and dogs welcomed me in! It was SO GOOD to step through a door-way, into a “Welcoming” place… a feeling I haven’t enjoyed in too, too long. (Even when this house in Richford is empty, the air inside is forebodingly hostile. There’s Hate in the walls and it feels as if the windows filtre day-light through Hate and resentment.) The house is (as was said later in the evening) about 137 years old, with barn, added back porches, garage. It’s “Old Vermont”. (12.04 Sat. Silas has left the building.) The architecture is just amazing… and all I could say was “It’s like being in a magazine article on Vermont!” The “tour” was a delight! The grounds reminded me of a smaller version of the “cottage” on Roosa Gap! It was ALL so “familiar”… a return to Happy days of Contentment. It was a pleasure to be there. – Dinner, conversation, the general atmosphere, the kitten who took to my lap, the dogs who sat beside or behind me on the sofa, it was the rejuvenation of being amongst “Friends”, not conniving, brutal, lying enemies. – This morning I feel apologetic for having stayed a bit too long, considering it was a first meeting (but I truly dreaded what I might face back at the house: locked out, the decision of calling the law or, as the police instruction manual states, needing to “use reasonable force to re-enter…” (which, it states “has not committed a crime”.) I lost a great deal of notes recorded for Saturday and one very important note must be added: At 12.19 a text arrived: I CAN MOVE INTO THE NEW PLACE WHEN I’D LIKE TO! THIS NIGHT-MARE COMES TO A CLOSE AT LAST! I don’t want to leave this house or the room. I happen to love the house and room. But staying here, with Silas is nothing but instability and uncertainty. I don’t want to leave but, I must!

Sun.28.Oct: It was a non-stop night at work. 12 solid hours of doing something, just doing all night, ending with me doing the “A.M. Care”, washing , dressing, &c. It wasn’t all bad. It felt OK to be doing what I was used to, what I’d done for so many years, but what Vermont has forbidden me to do. – It felt rather OK to leave work this morning, thinking I could simply drive to the house and into the space I’d been parking, back when this was my “Home”. I had some doubts but this morning, I brushed them aside, decided to take the chance. As I pulled in, Silas came out of the house, toward the car. I opened the car door, and before I could step out, he reached in, gave me a nestling sort of hug. (In one respect, it was a joy, and yet, I can’t shake the truth: He’s nasty, mean, psychotic, and certainly not to be trusted. What a damned shame!) He began to apologise for all the extra suffering he’s caused me. He’s regretting having had a “Stay Away Order” issued against me. He wants to ensure that I’m not served. He talked, we talked, on into the kitchen where, from about 8.00 to 13.00 he bounced from all the good times we’ve had to not being able to afford this place alone, insisting that “one of us has to leave”, the good times we’ve had, not wanting me to be served the “Order”, having taken wrong advice from others, admitting that he’s listened to the wrong people, telling me that all our fights began when we came here, (and I, insisting that “*I* have never had a ‘fight’ here. Not with you. *I* have had disagreements, have been going through what other people go through when they begin closer relationships. Maybe *you* have been ‘fighting’ me, but *I* have not been ‘fighting’ you.”, he seemed to understand this (for the moment). I told him of the multi-level emotional bond I have with and for him. I explained to him how, his father hasn’t been there for him for most of his life, how I saw that his mother encouraged him to drop his life in California, after YEARS of not being available to him, bringing him into her home only to spend about 9 months (his calculation) deriding him, insulting him, and all the while not offering him any support or encouragement or help… how that put him, in my eyes, in a position where-by I felt an obligation, as a human-being, as a person of his parents’ age, as a “parent” of a child 2 years older than he, to give what help I could. Indeed, I admitted that he’d become my “friend”, “companion” and my “child”. I told him that when he lashes-out at me I see it as a parent sees the rebellions of their child, that yes, it hurts, but that it doesn’t diminish nor destroy the caring or love. He got a bit quiet, appearing to consider this. – As we spoke, he began cooking “bao”, an Asian steamed dumpling/pastry that he’d found a recipe for, was rather proud of learning to make and had wanted to show and share with me. We continued to talk, have a true dialogue. I told him of my thoughts for the future, together, in this house, through the coming Winter and Spring into Summer. I told him that I do not want to leave, but am being forced out for reasons I still don’t understand. He simply said the same thing he’s been saying: I scared the shit out of him when I lost my temper recently and slammed a door. We both admitted that neither of us knows the other very well, but I was quick to add that he seems un-willing to invest the time to get to know me better. As well, he seems un-willing to allow the time needed to settle-in here, to invest any energy or time in getting to know me, to working together on building a “home”. I told him it appears that he wants everything immediately and to be presented “complete” with-out any effort. *He admitted that he does. And again, today, I explained to him that, for un-known reasons, he will, in all likelihood, wake up, 18 years from bow, on his 50th birthday and suddenly see that most, if not all these things that seem daunting today, were truly not worth the anxieties he’s allowing them to cause now. I suggested he confirm this by asking others who are over the age of 50. – We then discussed Heather… To me, most fascinating was his own admission: He brought her here because he can’t be alone, she was supposed to stay only a day or 2 but manipulated more time, is in fact “needy” (*his word*), used the washer and dryer because she needed to do laundry, annoyed him by leaving her clothes on the dryer and that it was her doing to post on Facebook that he (Silas) is now in a relationship and no longer available to date others. He says she did so with-out his knowledge and found out only by following other posts on Facebook. I made no comment other than to say that I’d seen that, and that convinced me that I HAD to leave promptly to get out of the way of his relationship. He claimed that that’s not the case, that he is not in a “relationship”, and that my presence in this house has no bearing on any relationship he might establish. I managed to bring the matter of the “Order of Protection” into the conversation since all was going peacefully. He said he does NOT want me to be served and that he’ll “do everything to make this right”. I asked him what date and time the court appearance will be and, with a little pause he told me “November 6 at 10.45.” (You know? I still didn’t completely brlueve him, but…) I then told him that, in my opinion, the way I feel, his ONE absolutely un-forgettable and un-forgiveable action against me in all the time I’ve known him is (to that point in time): Just as Dianne Olsen (Days Inn Shelburne) found me guilty, sentenced and condemned me, just as the State of Vermont had found me guilty, sentenced, condemned and is PERSECUTING not prosectuting me, he TOO, has done and continues to do the EXACT same thing, with particular reference to the window screen and all else, in spite if his claimed out-rage with the former two. He admitted that he was presumptuous, reacted quickly and wrongly and that there really is no damage. The one thing that I still cannot believe happened though is this:
*** As he cooked, he looked at me and admitted: I gave him help, hope, support and encouragement at a time when that’s what he needed most. And (very much un-like EVER before in my existence… truly-so), he THANKED ME! ***
During all of this, it was discovered:
1. ***** Admission that 2 out of 3 ex-room-mates in California don’t communicate with him because he left them and California under conditions not un-like these that he’s experiencing with me. That only 1 out of 3 room-mates correspond with or communicate with him and even then, it’s “a little stressful”. ******
2. **** He got the “Order” AFTER receiving my lettre to him saying that I’m leaving.*****
3. Don, the owner, has been a source of contention, feeding him what we both agreed are “Old Lady” instigations:
•Claiming there are repairs needed to the window screen for 3,50$. (I took Silas out-side, walked round the house, showed him ALL the window screens, demonstrated how they are removed and inserted AND that EVERY one has SOME dents and damage-of-sorts, AND that those have been there since BEFORE we arrived. *Silas agreed.
•That the smoking issue was further instigation when the statement “I see you have the thermostat set at 70 and he’s got his windows open. I’ll bet he’s up there smoking.” *Silas admitted that he knows I wash the up-stairs regularly AND that it doesn’t smell of cigarettes, AND he added “HOW does Don know what the thermostat is set at unless he’s been in to look!?”
•That Don has discussed Hillary and her personal matters with him (Silas).
•That Don is handling his wife’s cancer situation and to avoid much of that, takes on small repair jobs round Richford so to keep busy.
•That wife (Connie) is angry with him because he’s made it known round town about her cancer and she wanted no one to know.
4. That because of surgical scar-tissue (he’s repeatedly claimed this to be a fact), he didn’t smell cigarettes in the house but Don and Hillary claimed to have done. (At this point I told him that I found the entire situation ludicrous because Don is essentially allowing Hillary to smoke illegal substances in this house, in Silas’ room AND that, in the event of a drug bust, I too would be arrested because of my presence in the house, putting ME in jeopardy… and with FULL knowledge of that possibility!)
5. That, because of the scar-tissue, he didn’t smell the rotting garbage but that Hillary made him aware of it by telling him that “the house” smelled of it and that it was really bad.
6. His parents never really did offer him much in the way of parental support or concern and that, he feels, they rather left him on his own to fend. He implied that it had something to do with drug use and the period (60′s and early 70′s thinking),
7. Hillary actually DID, for reasons still un-known, start the “cold shoulder” (Silas’ words) attitude toward me: “I don’t know him, he’s not *my* friend, I don’t owe him anything.” (Silas’ words, as per Hillary.)
8. That his Post Office job has been a disappointment because he was “promised” full-time hours and that he resents the new PM coming in and giving him only 6 hours per week.
* At one point, some time around noon I’m thinking, as we talked, Silas suddenly said, firmly and determined “GO TO MY ROOM! GO TO MY ROOM!” He’d heard a knock at the door. Yes, indeed, it was the Sheriff, here to serve me. He DID take an Order! However, even as he, himself admitted, at the door, he “lied to an officer of the law”: he told the Sheriff that I was NOT in the house. I couldn’t hear the conversation because I did go into his room and they spoke out on the porch. But when he came back in, he repeated, looking into my eyes, “I will make this right.” (I can almost imagine how his making this “right” will only end up hurting me… again.) *
– This all ended when I said that I truly couldn’t stay awake any longer because of having been awake for about 30 hours. He asked for the broom, followed me up-stairs to get it and on the way, stopped at my little “mail-box” on the stair-way to get and hand me the new key to the bolt-lock. I gave him the broom and went down-stairs to try the new key. It works perfectly. We chatted a bit more as he washed dishes, scoured the sink, swept the kitchen floor. He asked me to look at a video on-line, which I did. I then simply HAD to get some sleep BUT before leaving him in his room alone, I brought up one final point:
***How he’d left Heather here, in the house, alone with me, and yet, HE didn’t trust me, thought I’d destroy the house, “torch” it, and that he claims to believe that I’m capable of inflicting bodily harm. I pointed-out that that was contradictory and, if not, disrespectful and negligent toward Heather. He rather agreed.***
– It must have been close to 14.30 when I finally got to bed, intending to sleep only an hour. Since we (Silas and I) were having peaceful, healthy conversation, I wanted the chance to have more. I set the alarm on my phone for 15.58, got under the blankets and… essentially, passed out in fatigue. – At 19.54 tonight, I woke. The house was empty, Silas’ car in the yard, Hillary’s as well. Kitchen ceiling light on. I’ve presumed Silas was visiting Hillary. – When I heard him come back, I went down-stairs, to spend time with him, time I probably won’t have much more of. His room was dimly lit, silent. I came back up-stairs, disappointed. I replied to the text about taking the new place. I asked for move-in round 1st Dec. I checked Twitter. By about 23.30, I gave up on the day, gave in to fatigue, put out the light. Rather than feeling the day “closed” or “done”, this day felt… “died”.

Mon.29.Oct: 7.43 I begin this day, sitting on the floor, rocking, trembling, crying: I want a Home, I want a home. – Court. For threatening Silas. Court. For threatening another person. Accused, again, of being able to inflict harm. And, the thoughts of having to move, again. HAVING to MOVE… AGAIN! I’m STILL HOMELESS! – 9.54 “The Bitch List” is posted on the fridge. A place to list grievances for both of us. Silas’ name over the left column, to give him the importance of being listed first, something he needs in his life. An attempt at keeping a friendship. No doubt, to be misunderstood, misconstrued, used against me. I’ve put one on already: I love you as a Friend, Companion and Son. You know this because I told you. You can hurt me and do when-ever you can. Possible Resolution: TALK TO ME. – 14.11 At the close of yet another “Heart-to-Heart” with Silas, standing in the kitchen. An admission that he needs medications to control his negative, violent reactions (I need to make a bullet-list!), that from the age of 3 he’s lived in rentals (His scenario: I would get a gift and have to get rid of something I had so there’d be less to pack.) and therefore is unable to form a bond with any place. I made the point that his mother and Gwen bith said to him that by taking him into their home they were taking the responsibility of having to, in the event that he falls on his face, pick up the pieces, lick his wounds and clean up his mess. I pointed out to him that he doesn’t HAVE to do that here, but, that decision is HIS alone, I do not want to hear his decision now, I won’t listen to an immediate decision and that he should take time to consider and think about the option and opportunity I just gave him. He is, he claims, en route to the Court to try to stop in “Order” process. Do I trust? Nope. But, age and experience on my side: I will see… in time. – Oh, and last night when he was out? He’d gone to Don, spent time talking about the possibility of having to break the lease. He realised that he cannot throw me out but that, according to the statutes of the State, should all of this go to court, the State WILL view him as a “landlord”, WILL view me as a “tenant” of his, and will proceed on that basis… Apparently Don told him that VT judges tend to favour tenants. Silas is now doing everything to avoid Courts. – Oh and: when I said that I am willing to put my potential rent for else-where into this house, he replied “You don’t owe me any more money.” Words, un-documented. But… -Just before he left fir Court he said, as a preface to a statement concerning some future event (that, at this moment I can’t recall): “What-ever happens after this, where-ever it goes…” He’s thinking. – He’s a lot like Mark: the meds dull his senses, kill his libido, are un-pleasant in side effects… he becomes non-compliant. Mark! – He also said:’ I’m in my room, alone and you’re in your room alone and quiet. I sit and wonder if you’re mad and if I’ve done something wrong.’ It made me tear to hear that; how very much like me he is in that. We both know that feeling, whether founded or not. How God-awful to think of another human-being having to suffer that thought! – 19.57 And yet, another Heart-to-Heart in the kitchen. However, Silas returned from “Court” at about 16.30 or so. Seems (at least how I hear it) the Court allowed him to rescind the Order. Says he, “It’s shredded.” Apparently the Court agreed it was “un-founded” (Silas’ terminology). Me? Planning on being in Court on the 6th or stopping by the Court to make certain. (Even after tonight’s kitchen chat.) He has been proven to be a bold liar. No telling here. – Tonight’s discussion revealed that he’s actually planning on getting a Postal job in Shelburne. He’s convinced himself he’ll just walk in, land the job and work 3 days/week. He rang and asked Gwen if he could stay there, back at mommie’s, the 3 days and he’s planning to keep this place through the lease. Meanwhile, I’m being brutally honest about not wanting to leave this house. He’s being stead-fast about hating this house, claiming the people in Richford have been horrid toward him. (They haven’t. He’s angry because his hours at work were decreased. Typical of the illness.) And again, the admission that he needs meds to stabilise his mood. Tonight though, is particularly difficult for him. He came back from Court (assuming that’s actually where he went, I tend to think he went to mommy, but…) soaked through with sweat. He’s got another “tonsil infection”, due to stress says he, the 3rd or 4th since I met him. He took his temp: 99 says he. But he truly was soaked with sweat so there truly is something wrong. I do wish I could help. I have nothing on hand. Alas and oh well. Perhaps Creation is taking care of injustices. I leave it at that. – Tonight, the sleeping bag and bedding is washed, clothes washed, jammie-sweats in the dryer, and I even washed a bed pillow! Clean! AND I took a SHOWER! How REFRESHing! No bath! – Took a stroll to the dépaneur Mayhew for smokes and a cheapie pastry. Today’s only meal: tinned ravioli and a pastry. We’re following with “Cabin Fever” (NH whiskey “infused” with VT maple. Disgusting but 80 proof and hopefully enough to wipe out this day… at least for tonight. – 20.21 Silas is at Hillary’s and I’m here alone. The wind has been utterly magnificent all day. Tonight it’s coming in Nor’east. A bit of rain has begun. I’m looking forward to what Nature has to slam Vermont with and I’m hoping and praying it’s equal to what I’d like to hit Vermont with… Silas and Hillary immediately parked in the garage out back. I moved the car closer to the house, out from under the oak in the back. If the wind continues Nor’east, the tree will go down through our power lines and into Hillary’s front porch or to the street. No matter, I don’t much really care. I’m looking forward to becoming anestitised and enjoying the storm… and fuk VT, this house, Silas, Hillary and ALL of this shit. If tomorrow comes, it will be… tomorrow. – I’ll post this to Journal now, just to get it posted

Tue.30.Oct: (Wed.31.Oct 8.06) It was quite another day today, and one of even more revelations. For me, it was another day in the house… mostly working further on the “mural” which, to my delight, is coming along rather nicely. It was a day of sunshine, then cloud, then rain, then sunshine and rain, then sunshine, repeat, all through the day. It was ANOTHER day of NO PHONE service! I pay 45$/month for “no service”. Silas is paying over 100$/month for… NO SERVICE! Hillary is paying, I believe, round 80$/month for… NO SERVICE! And I will say, UNashamedly… WE are paying ATT for this thievery! – That said, on with the show. Silas is quite ill (again). It took him the better part of the day to get him-self together. He was expected to attend a “Job Fair” at some point for the Winter Season tourism and hospitality industry… Don’s wife, Connie, had encouraged him and, as I’m to understand, was expecting him to at least visit. Well, as is Silas, he slowly got prepped, shower, shave, &c and dressed with neck-tie, printed CVs and round-about 16.00 was out the door. At round about 19.30 he returned… with Heather. He did NOT go to the Job Fair, rather, he went, ill as he is, to get Heather! What can I say? This is how he is, and, when the screws come tightening because of it, he’ll spiral into Mr. “Fuktheworld” and there will be shit all over. I see, I know, I AM prepared. Hey! WTF and FTW and “FTD” and F ATT. There’s a bottom line to my attutude and that is: ME, I happen to LIKE this house AND the space in it AND its location AND I’m BloodyFukking TIRED of BloodyFukking MOVING! AND I’m fed-right-the-fuk-up with mood shifts and threats. I can, with some re-adjustments to some things, afford THIS place OR another place close by and, well, in light of details of today’s kitchen chat… – But, as I say, there were Revelations during the course of the day. Great and Grand Revelations:
•His departure from California WAS quite similar to the atmosphere he creates here.. Negative.
•He ISN’T on “good terms” with most of the people he left behind.
•He DOES depend on meds to stabilise mood AND he HAS been non-compliant for a long while; not taking them because of the side-effects.
•He DOES harbour a bit of resentment against his mother for being so insistent that he come to VT that he DID, essentially, drop all and cut most to come here on little more than a half-witted promise of a better life.
•He IS a bit angry about having been “invited” into mothers’ home to be “trapped”, jobless and rather ridiculed, with no offers of help.
•Apparently, he’s confided in Don about my status here, in this house and has been told about the “realities”:
-I’m not really your landlord but
-if this goes to Court, the way the laws of VT are written, I am.
-VT is pro-tenant and the Courts will see me as your landlord and pretty much destroy me.
-I told Don I don’t WANT to be a landlord and I’m tired of it!
-My biggest mistake when we got here was not letting you put your name on the lease.
-I have no rights if we go to Court.
-I CAN’T throw you out, you can stay here as long as YOU want AND
-You DON’T HAVE to pay ANYTHING because MY name is on the lease and I’M responsible for everything!
-So now he’s feeling trapped in this respect.
•He took the “Order” because of the legality of my lettre. The “Order” was THE ONLY legal paper he could slap me with… the ONLY paper that was backed by something “legal” AND he did so thinking it would be JUST between us. It rather shook him when he realised that the State was involved. THAT was NOT what he’d expected.
•The emptiness in the house bothers him terribly (living-room and kitchen being devoid of furniture) and makes him feel isolated.
•He asked me to give him a blank receipt from the book I have so he could write me a receipt for the 1200$ I owe as my half of move-in. He wants to forgive it. (I note for my future reference: Silas said “When you get money from PJ, use it to get yourself a car.” I told Silas, “I’ve finished with that. It appears to me, and he understood perfectly, that THAT is where ALL of our tensions and frictions began: I was stupid in depending on a blank promise, stupid to not see that nothing was forth-coming when communication ceased right after my plea, stupid for not writing it off sooner. Now, it’s my ethical duty and responsibility to give him what I owe him and I accept that. He will get his money, somehow. He appreciated that.
•He’s been of the belief that our “fighting” has destroyed any “friendship” we may have had. I told him that *I* have not had any “fights” but it’s a matter of perspective. It’s his impetuousness that makes him want everything to be perfect immediately and that he has the opportunity to “work”, at pace, to “settle” this “new life” of his, and that there will be disagreements and discrepancies and tensions. But, he needs to be open, communicate concerns when they happen and talk to and with me.
•He agreed that, when we talk, we don’t fight, it’s always calm and civil.
•He told me that it hurts him to know what Dianne and Vermont have done to me: that this Court issue has essentially put me in a position where I can’t get another job, move to a place where they’ll do a back-ground check.
Then came the moment: When I pointed-out that my hours now give me a considerable (though not great or perfect) income and that if he has to stay here alone, Winter will mean heating… his electric heater will cost considerably, the oil will cost, and if he doesn’t find the income, he’ll be “out” in many more serious ways than one and that now, I can help HIM, like he helped me by getting me here. Ah HAH! I’m OK now. Things are suddenly much better. (But, to keep SOME control, he was quick to say that he’s giving his situation only 2 weeks to improve and that he’ll make a decision on what he wants to do with his life after that. Oh well.) – So, as I say: *I* like this house and such, and right now I need certain things (a CAR!!!!!) SO… *I* will do what *I* must do to have what *I* want… and now that HE understands HIS ‘predicament’ as it were, *I* will see where and how it goes. – As the day came to a close, we 3 (Heather) sat in the kitchen as Silas cooked. We chatted, it was cute: those 2 are the most “16 year old 30 year olds” imaginable. Priorities, perspectives and all. But, as I listened to them I thought: how fortunate they are to have that luxury… I had the luxury of being 16… when I was 6. I’m not resentful. – When I came back to “my” space, more photos of Rockaway: Destruction beyond belief! Again, my heart got ripped and torn and shredded! At about 20.30 I put me under the blankets, put the light out and tried for sleep… with the radio on. Tonight I needed the comfort of sound, the comfort of voice, the reminder that I am 2km from the HOME of MY Heart, MY Soul, MY Spirit, MY Core-being. MINE! And *I* will *NOT* allow *ANY*one to take that from *ME*!!!!!

Wed.31.Oct: Woke, on my own, for no reason, refreshed, at 6.00! – 12.16 It was SO hot out when, at about 9.00, I went for cigs, and just this moment, the temperature plummeted, wind kicked and it’s POURING with rain! I mean, the change happened with-in 60 seconds! – And STILL NO FUKKING PHONE! – 13.23 It’s been a day of coffee (no food). The “wall” is coming along delightfully! Essentially complete, there’s more I want to work into it. And now there’s time. – Nanc and Silas sent texts. The shit-phone won’t send replies. There’s a voice message; the shit-phone won’t connect to ANY calls! Fukking ATT! – The sun is glaring in through the windows and it’s COLD! I have a shift tonight and am going to nap. – SHIT! Tomorrow’s NOVEMBRE ALREADY! – 14.12 Messages came through on the phone! Voice message! Silas is back in for training and has more hours next week! (I think we’re both excited,) And I have a place to go to on 1 Dec. if I still need! – OK. Nap. – Napped.:
“When things ain’t goin’ good that’s when everything goes bad…”
I got showered. Poor Silas in misery with his tonsillitis or what-ever it is that’s got him down. We had another beautiful kitchen chat today so the house-hold was at peace. And I went off to work. The drive went well, and slow as Hell as I followed some sort of live-stock transport along most of the way. And, arriving at the job, the World just went to shit, on several accounts… My little Lady had taken quite the turn… for quite the worst. The family was there… to spend the night. Mme. is on what I call ‘terminal care’. For me, another assault to the heart. Although peaceful, it pains me to think she may linger in what is almost a comatose state. She certainly doesn’t deserve to suffer. And, again, here’s yet another devout Catholic, un-questioning faith in “God”, once productive and hard-working, stripped of all, at the mercy of those around her. At one point, as I stood there, the argument over admin. of morphine. Morphine? She’s calm! Morphine? Guarantee resp. failure. Better to decapitate. (It was with-held.) The family treated me as one of them, thanking me for all, appreciative beyond imagination, not rushing me, talking. That much felt nice. But… as we talked, the news covered the hurricane destruction in Rockaway. NOTHING remains! NYC is a wash-out. And it struck me… with all its might:
I’m now with-out income. I’m in a house where I’m really not wanted. I’m in a house where the lease-holder is planning on leaving in 2 weeks, leaving me in the streets. I have a place to move to, but now, can no longer afford. I have a car that has tyres with no tread, a bad engine, needs oil change, and can’t afford better. I can’t get more work at another job because of this frivolous charge against me (thanks to Dianne Olsen of Days Inn Shelburne… fuk it, I’m NOT keeping my mouth shut any longer), AND even if there was a way to go BACK to NYC… there’s NOTHING THERE! Not even a shelter! TRAPPED! TRAPPED! DONE! FINISHED! THE END. There comes a time when it all becomes so blatantly clear and obvious that what one needs to do is simply leave… and this is that time. Just “leave”, quietly, and for, well, ever ad always. This is the time… to go! Well? I’m “packed and ready”. Logistics are all that remain. “Friends” will support. Enemies will hinder. So just… go. I’m ready now. – I lingered an hour, called the office and came back to the house that I’ve come to love. Silas’ good news for coming week was a relief, More hours, training for better position. We chatted as I prepped a tin of soup for my “meal”. By about 22.00 he went to bed, and I jokingly texted little “Nursey” lines (Are you asleep? Are you thirsty? Do you need the bathroom? I’m your Nurse, can I get you something?) I retired ‘my’ room, he retired in his. – Spent the rest of the night on Twtr, feeling like a completely useless entity whose time to get out of the way has come. I’m of no value or use here, in this house, this town, this State. I’m of no value or use in NY… the City or the State. I’m a docket number on a calendar in a State that’s already financially burdened and now I can’t go back to the place I know because it’s even MORE burdened AND there’s literally NO “place” to go TO! The one person whom I thought I could work and strive with toward a “life” repeatedly reminds me “I can’t live with you.” and “I’m giving the situation 2 weeks from this past Monday and if it doesn’t improve for me I’m leaving.” (HE goes back to his mommie…) Yup. Time to get out of the way. – Oh, and the empty gas tank light came on as I drove back to the house tonight.