September 2008 - Peninsula-8539266

MON.1 . 1h39 Jackson’s having a bad night. Poor guy. Like Mr. Bailey said, you always shear men crying in hospital. Well, what can be done? The nurse is bringing meds nut, just now, as J’s in the loo, the NA comes in with a contraption, stands right outside the loo and yells “Where are you?” So, I’ve los tit. I’ve spoken. “He’s in the damned loo! You stand there yelling like he’s half way down the road. JCAH should be here for this.” – So I’m soaked with sweat from fatigue. Eyes burning. Head throbbing. Hope. I’m not going to be able to ride this one through. Not at this rate. No sleep. Always hungry. Thinking of work? At this rate I’ll be completely burnt in no time. Even no the moaning drags on. Not on the rest of the floor. No. It’s quiet out there. It’s only in here. No pain management. No patient respect. THIS is “Health Care”? I see me back out on the streets in no time. But, before that happens, I’ll get in a hair-cut and beard trim. It’s time to just ride this for what I need for as long as I can. – Odd. I want a bloody fkng cigarette now! I’ve got 3. I’ll be eating half to-night. – Got it. Half a smoke. I’ve got 2 patches (14mg) but at the rate I sweat, they’ll be wasted. If I trusted them, I’d go for tranquilizers. Hey! I still have a psych consult coming! By then? I should be a case. – Meanwhile, it’s 2h03. J’s moaning, pfutzing in the bed, dropping things on the floor, anxiety attack. – 2h56 Jackson’s hyperventilating. Pt. in 259 fell. It’s taking the entire floor staff almost 10 minutes to get him/her up. Loved discussion in the room. Talk. Talk. No action. So now we have TWO situations and ALL staff in one room. Me? My head is pounding. I’m hungry. Tired. Nauseous. And the nurse asks the fallen patient “Do you have pain?” – I wonder when they’ll try to confiscate this book because of what’s in it. – Somebody’s asking if the Dr. has been called. Somebody’s taking pt’s. vitals, snapping “Relax!” at the pt. Jackson’s calmer. The window in here is open. Fresh air. Feels good. I wish I could enjoy it. It’s pleasantly cool in here. Probably just too cool outside. But outside is beginning to look very good. No wonder the Homeless take to the streets. – 3h10 OK GET YOUR THINGS TOGETHER. YOU’RE GOING TO ANOTHER ROOM. – I didn’t move a muscle and the command just dropped. But, Jackson decided to play the drama to the best. I tried to help him and his breathing but he wouldn’t help himself at all! So I took to my bed and the sketch of my tree. How I miss my corner of The Bakfort! He had respiratory and X-ray in there. I finally went to the Nurses’ Station and the DOC told the staff to relocate me. So, at 5h01, I’m in room 252, alone, TV working but CBS-FM playing. Not a scenic room. But I’m alone. The air conditioner is on. I have the window bed. I think there was some kind of precaution in here. Gown in waste bin. The bed is old, not so comfy. Again, I have to be cut short of some things. But hell. It’s my 3rd bed since admit. If anybody comes looking for me, they’ll never find me. Right now, I’d like something to help me sleep. I’d like to get some sleep. I hope I’ll be able to catch some during the day! – September! Sht! Summer is gone! And here I am, in the Rockaways where I wanted to be… but Homeless. Just what the fk happened? – As Jackson put on the act, I thought back to Albert Green. Thanks to my caring, I’m here. J. could be another mistake. It’s best I’m not where I could help. He (J) has been kind but A.G. was too. Look where kind people get you. – 8h28 Got some sleep. Some. Sound. Now there’s a magnificent breeze blowing through the window, across my back and out the door into a hallway of idiots. Save Linda, my little spark o’hope. I woke knowing they’d lost me. They did. I’m brushing my teeth in the loo, a knock on the door. “Who’s in there?” The NA’s come into the room and leave. They look. No comment. Now I learn, no breakfast. A “nurse” from last night comes int. “Good morning. How are you?” I’m in no mood. That’s how are I! I recount the events of this morning. She says “I know. I know you from last night.” Well? LAST NIGHT I asked for a Tylenol. This morning, I haven’t gotten it yet. “Would you like a Tylenol?” (8h36) Lillian comes in. “Mr. Kessler! You have a headache?” – I have to work on this comedy. Friday night RAA. Homeless in Peninsula Motor Lodge. – JACKSON’S INTUBATED AND OFF TO ICU! HE’S SEDATED. MY “BUDDY”. THIS IS UNREAL! I need to think, plot, plan, get the fk out of this disaster! And I need to do it like now. A day of serious planning ahead. – 10h46 Kleymenova strolls in. “Good morning. I gave you Tylenol. Did you get it?” TEN FKNG HOURS AFTER I ASKED AND THY’RE FIXATED ON TYLENOL! She waltzes in. She waltzes out. She’s very different. Not so compassionate. – So, this morning, we have been subjected to chest X-ray, blood work. – 11h25 New pen from Brenda (?) who just gave me the “You’re so talented.” Sht. But I told her how easy it is to judge others knowing nothing about them. She backed off, told me to come to New Haven Home Care Agency, register for work. She’s focused on me finding a home. I’m telling her I know why the Homeless go back to homelessness. She can’t understand it. I don’t suppose any of them can. But I’ve got Tues. and Wed. on my steroids. Thursday? Back to the open air? If not sooner. By the way: Jackson: Pulmonary edema. – 18h27 it’s been too quiet on the floor all day. I don’t dare ponder the night. Right now it looks to be very difficult for me. I KEEP VISUALISING ME IN ELLENVILLE GENERAL! IN MY MIND, 209 IS RIGHT OUT-SIDE THE WINDOW, KERHONKSON IS JUST DOWN THE ROAD. FOR BRIEF MOMENTS, I WAIT FOR BIRD, LOU, JULIE TO COME OR CALL. AND THEN THE ACTUAL SNAPS IN AND THE ANXIETY PAINS ARE INTENSE. TRULY PAINFUL. FOR A FEW MOMENTS EARLIER I WAS SO CONSUMED WITH HATE FOR C.M. THE THOUGHT OF LOSING EVERYTHING TIGHTENS MY THROAT. SO I SNAPPED BACK TO ELLENVILLE. – I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE… JUST FOR A FEW MOMENTS. I NEED TO GET OUT!!!!! I NEED TO HOLD ON FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER TO SEE WHERE THIS GOES. I MIGHT GET SOME PLACE IN A BOARDING HOUSE OUT HERE. I WON’T KNOW IF I SCREW IT ALL AT THIS POINT. AND IF NOT? THERE’S ANOTHER OPTION ALWAYS THERE AND SOME NICE WEATHER IN THE FORECAST. – The last does of steroids is Wednesday morning. That’s tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night, Wednesday morning. – 19h40 and I’m cleaned and tucked and very ready to end this day. 19h43 and I need to find a place for the night. Not at 20h20 any more. The night is falling this early already. Soon, all will be dark at 17h! Soon there will be a solution to this mess. Very soon. It won’t go on like this too much longer. One solution or another. It’s stopping. Meanwhile, planes are coming by so low! It’s actually beautiful against the sun-set. The floor is good. Brenda(?) stopped at the door to call in “Good-night Mr. Kessler!” I told her to stop calling me “Mr. Kessler”. “Sorry Judah.” She’s Jewish too. A nice note. I hope she’ll be here when all the sht hits the fan tomorrow. I keep thinking, the first think I did on admission was ask to speak with a Rabbi. It still hasn’t happened. Actually, the only questions I have yet to be answered is “Why is it so important to come out of this a survivor?” I don’t’ see the need. But, for now, I’m just waiting for the taking of last vitals. I need to try for some sleep tonight. I know I’ll be needing it. And listening to CBS-FM is approaching danger: too many deep memories that shouldn’t surface now are rising. Dorothy, Donna, Aunt Sis, Jamesway, Kerhonkson, Lou, Marc… too many. Not good right now. So… 20h19 Dylan just sang “Like A Rolling Stone”… “How does it feel?” I know now. (P.S. I’m SO HUNGRY).

TUE.2. 7h22 It’s 21 degrees in this room! Lovely! A little breeze blowing in through the window. The sky is blue. I’ve WASHED in the loo. Shampoo etc. Thorough. Clean “gowns”, jeans (still not clean), underwear. Ready for the massive bull-sht that I know is to come with this day. More opinions (negative), more suggestions and recommendations, more judgments. But no actions. Nothing to actually MOVE me forward or up. Just a lot of opinionated, ill-informed CO2 spewing out of mouths that have enjoyed their meals, spoken with friends and loved-ones, and are quick to fire verbal jabs at me, especially now when I’m down. So? I’m ready for it… more or less. Tomorrow is last Prednisone. I can leave then. Will it be difficult? Probably. But not forever. – I’m starting a list, to weight which is better: to stay and work through this or to take off and escape. The list is fair. – NOTE: IN PRISON, PRISONERS ARE GIVEN TIME OUT OF DOORS ROUTINELY. HERE, I AM CONFINED, WORSE THAN IF SENTENCED FOR SOME HEINOUR CRIME. LEAVING HERE HAS BECOME MORE A MATTER OF ESCAPE THAN MUCH ELSE. – 7h42 They cackle in the halls, banging all sorts of carts and equipment. I woke this morning, quietly. No one around. I went to the loo to bathe. Bang, bang, bang on the door. “OK. Just checking.” They return to yelling down the halls, giggling and cackling like school children and old hens. (I have headache now.) HEY! As of today, I’ve been in here a week. I haven’t smoked a cig. BUT WOW! DO I EVER WANT ONE RIGHT NOW!!!!! at 7h56. – 12h17 About 15 minutes ago, a woman walks in the room. Social Worker. No more Marianne. I’m not on “her” floor! So, the recounting of the tale begins again. I tell. Mrs. listens. She asks if I’ve ever heard of Chabad. I tell her I have. She asks me if I still want to complete the application for the shelter. WHAT? What are my options? What alternatives? “I’ve heard terrible things about shelter” says Mrs. I tell her that I can’t be here, like this, any longer. I stress that I need to go to work. I need to be presentable. She says I look terrific. I stress the importance of trimming beard and moustache. The comment drops to the floor. Dead. I tell her I feel imprisoned. She doesn’t get it. (Of course not. She’s a Social Worker. Even looks the part.) She mentioned something about being discharged. Discharged? To Where? When? I thought they couldn’t discharge the homeless. See how realities bend? I told her that Peninsula put me on the steroids, I’ve one more dose, I’m back to the streets. I’m not going to risk coming off the steroids while on the streets and being brought back here in an ambulance. Besides, I want to be healthy enough to go back to work! Well. Words fallen on the floor and die. She’s off to call Chabad in Cedarhurst. We already know that that’s going to get us a lot of exactly what I’ve got now. – 12h57 Lunch done. I’ve begun getting everything together for tomorrow. 10AM meds and me out the door. I’ll go to check my chart this evening… for “Schitzengigglez” See about discharge. However… One thing I will make sure of and that is that I do not sign out AMA. – (How, I wonder, do other people accept a situation like this with ease? How could anybody just take this bed, this room, take the services and not feel some obligation? I hear of people who have been homeless for years, come into hospital time and again. Yes, I’ve paid my debt to society (from conception!) and so, and deserving of this shelter. But from the system, not the people. And, of course, I want to work my way along. I take nothing for granted. But how, I wonder, do others just take and ride this?) – It’s not “AMA”. It’s to retain some human dignity. – The sky is still a silver-blue and the breeze coming in the window is warm. – Where will I go tomorrow night? – 20h24 I got a roomie this evening. So far, quiet. I’m being nice me, considerate me. No reason not to be. Even as I’m being screwed yet again by Fate, Life, Creation. The social worker cam back, said she’d phone Chabad, the Rabbi was in a meeting. She left. End of that story. Then, I went to tell the Nurse that I want to see my chart this evening when the floor gets quiet. Can’t, unless the primary MD is present! Fk? I’m in “Out of here at 10Am meds” mode. I want to see me Dx, TxHx, Soc. Svce. Notes, D/C plan. I want to know about Medicaid. I’d like to see the “homeless” comments. Meanwhile, at 20h39, the floor is alive with all sorts of cacklings, planes are taking off on last night’s arrival route which could have been so beautiful to watch if I could have darkened the room tonight. But more-so? I want a bloody cigarette! I want to take a walk down the street! I want to go to Ft. Tilden! I NEEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! My chest feels as if it’s collapsed. I can feel my pulse in my nose. More? I don’t think so. I just figure I’ll leave here, head to the subway for a MetroCard to Far Rock. Go tell Srully the latest, listen to Jacquie give me some line about not having any resources for emergency housing and being sent out to public shelters and other such bull-sht. Then? The Fort for my nail file and check my “bed clothes”. Into The City to the Coalition, if there’s time. If not? 30th Street. Alternate? JCCRP to hear of their failures then to Bakfort to bask in the sun and finish all of this bull-sht. All said, all written, all done, I’m fed-up, burnt-out, at then end, no more. It’s 21h04, I’ve got the TV on since probably 19h. I’ll pass the control to the new guy and try to get some sleep for tomorrow. It might be my last “bloody sun-rise”, but I’ve been through enough, enough, ENOUGH! This isn’t life. It’s not living. But I will not be tired tomorrow along with all else.

WED.3. 7h40: Not exactly a restful night. But, lets face it: there’s much on the agenda today and I didn’t exactly end the day in peace. What, with the bull-sht about the chart and being dumped by asocial worker. So now, I’m sitting here, on the bed, waiting to shower. At 6h48 I brought a note, neatly penned on a paper towel, to the Nurses’ Station: “Pt. 252B WED. SEPT. 6:48AM REMINDER: PT. WANTS TO VIEW HIS CHART TODAY. PLEASE NOTIFY PRIMARY MD AND OBTAIN PERMISSION..” My chest feels more like a closing steel cage. My head is just a mass of pain set on my shoulders. It’s a bit overcast this morning but warm. I’m in the mood to just do/behave the way I’ve been treated: primarily ignored. Just to ignore the rest of them, do what I must, use the phone, watch TV. That sort of thing. That’s the early part of the plan. Next? Meds. Shower. Dress. Leave. Let’s see how the day turns out and where I’ll journal the day’s events this evening. – One major comment I want to include here is how there’s NO consideration for patients. The yelling, banging, screaming, talking, etc.. Almost unbelievable. – Vitals taken. The day begins. Let the screwing begin. – 2 NA’s and a Nurse trainee have come in, pass the time, make merry in the morning. The RN trainee doesn’t want me to leave today because she’ll have to take an admission. She’s on until 19h! We’ll see. I’d like to be nice and kind. – 10h01 Just came out of the loo. HAD TO DO A DIGITAL TO MOVE MY BOWELS!~ Could not pass the stool! Yet another reason to get ups and out of here… constipation. – It’s 10h Time to start bugging folks: shower, chart, housing, discharge, etc. – 15h35 I got my shower AND I got to go OUT-SIDE FOR ABOUT 15-20 MINUTES. Thanks to the social worker, Nursing Supervisor and an Aide! It was a delight. I even smoked my last cigarette in the park. Humanity! But it wasn’t to last. Lunch was pork. I didn’t eat it. No big deal. I rested for a while and then… About 14h40 I used the phone. Called Edelyne to see about work. She hounded about proof of address!!!!! No assignments coming with-out it. SO, AS A MATTER OF TECHNICALITY, I’M OUT OF WORK NOW! THE HOLE IS DEEPER AND DARKER. I’M LOSING THE LIGHT! RANG NANCY. CALLER ID GAVE HER THE HOSPITAL ID! Fkd! I was honest. Told her I’m here as a patient. Told her that Premier isn’t giving me any work. She said she’ll find me private duty. I don’t trust her anymore. I have no cause to trust anybody… especially when I went to Kleymenova and asked for permission to see my chart and she OUT-RIGHT, BLATANTLY, DIRECTLY SAID “NO.” NO? WHY? “I DON’T KNOW. BECAUSE IT’S ILLEGAL.” WHAT’S “ILLEGAL” IS THAT THIS RUSKY IDIOT IS ALLOWED TO HOLD A POSITION WHERE-BY SHE CAN WRITE WHAT SHE WANTS IN A CHART AND HIDE IT FROM A PERSON. SO I ASKED HER WHAT SHE’S HIDING, WHAT SHE DOESN’T WANT ME TO KNOW. NO REPLY. SHE JUST FLIPPED THROUGH THE PAGES, CALLED FOR MY SOCIAL WORKER. WHEN THE SOCIAL WORKER CALLED BACK, KLEYMENOVA ASKED ABOUT THE SHELTER APPLICATION. “TWO WEEKS.” SHE CALLED TO ME ACROSS THE NURSES’ STATION. “THAT’S NOT ALL I WANTED TO LOOK AT. BUT SINCE YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVE SOMETHING IN THERE TO HIDE, I NO LONGER TRUST YOU. STAY AWAY FROM ME.” – I’ve called for the social worker. I was dressed and ready to lave. But not yet. Not that easy. As I told the social worker today: Peninsula gets paid while I’m here. My presence makes the staff’s job easier. I didn’t get into this situation intentionally. – 15h53 Kleymenova is outside the door talking with someone. Ah, she’s talking about another pt. at the moment. But I wouldn’t put it past her to try some bull-sht to either get me to leave or to put me on psych. eval. I DON’T TRUST HER AT ALL! Why she would want to harm me? I don’t know. What she’s already documented? I don’t know. But I want to record that. With every bit of my humanity, I beg all of Creation that Larisa Kelymenova experiences, personally, directly, first-hand having no home to go to, no one to turn to, no help to be found, and nothing but empty cold to look forward to at the end of the day. – So, I’m in bed gowns and jeans. 16h In 3 hours it will be night. No sense bombing out the door for that. There’s one more hot meal to come (maybe) and one more night to sleep in a bed (maybe). A sit-tight and wait to a Pt. Rep. (who probably wont’ come either). It I have to wait through dinner and dinner comes, I eat.. If I have to wait past sun-down, I sleep. Tomorrow? Back out to nothing… well… Homeless Coalition and Shelter Intake. – 16h08 Kleym and Co. came by. Apparently, it’s “hospital policy” that patients can’t see their chart! Right. Also, Kleym tells me St. John’s will discharge out to the streets! Imagine? So Kleym comes in all “sweet-sweet”. Like I trust either her or Social Worker now. And word from Chabad? They don’t deal with housing. Fk-nuts. My list of possibilities is in the “Notes” column. I’ll ponder… I wonder where Jocelyn is through this. She came on and came in like a buddy. Of course, I’ve nothing to say to anybody around here any more. – 16h34 The dinner trays are here… I wonder… If none for me, I can go, be free! Food stamps and a heavy, non-restricted… oops… the tray has arrived. Dinner. =- For a moment, I thought my portions were being reduced. Unless the guy in the other bed is in the same situation, this is the “Cardiac” diet. Designed to starve a person to death. They don’t give him any additional, but the dear Jocelyn is trying to keep us fed by getting a sandwich up. I have one. She said to call for 2 tonight. If one comes for me, I’ll take it. Fk! I’m thinking of just walking anyway. May as well enjoy what I can. But I wonder: Why do I even bother? I just can’t figure it. I just can’t. 18h34 the sun is dropping from the sky. The temperatures will drop into the teens. Heavy rains on Saturday. Will I be at Tilden in the rain? Should I just duck out and head south? Will homeless in the South be better? So much to think about. The only thing I know for certain is: Tomorrow won’t be any better.

THU.4. 6h03: Three weeks now and here comes the depression with the day-break. A grey-blue sky hangs over Peninsula this morning. A shroud of misery hangs over me. The male Nurse on duty came into the room last night, looked at me, grunted something, left. He’s been quite attentive to the guy in the other bed here. Lengthy chats about good health, etc. Not that I mind, particularly. Not that I mind at all, really. – I don’t understand why I have to pee so often. I’m not drinking much. – It’s stupid of me, really, but I don’t’ want to go to use the loo in case Stanic (roomie’s name, I think) needs it. But right now, I’m holding urine and he’s in for the second time in the past 10 minutes. I’ll have to get a urinal today. – 6h34 I’ve peed! I noted last night’s dreams then went to the loo. – I’d like a cigarette now. I’d like a real coffee. I’d like a walk along the beach. I’d like to go to work! Depression. I need to sort this all out. It no longer is real. My defences are all up and my brain isn’t accepting the realities any more. I KNOW about this situation. I TRY to work through it but I keep hitting dead-ends. – I MUST GET OUT OF THIS HOSPITAL! I MUST FIND WORK. WORK HAS A PAY DELAY OF 2 WEEKS IN ANY EVENT. NO HOUSING FOR 2 WEEKS. WHEN I GET WORK I CAN’T STAY HERE. – GOOD/PERFECT SOLUTION? A LIVE-IN! THE ONLY WAS THAT MIGHT HAPPEN? EXTRA-CARE OR NANCY. I NO LONGER TRUST NANCY AND DON’T DEPEND ON HER SO I HAVE TO FIGURE A WAY TO DO THIS ON MY OWN. (I still don’t’ know why my survival sht is fighting. It would be so much better to die. It’s an option. It should be the only option. – Elizabeth is back on this morning. I like seeing her. She’s the one who told me I must sit tight and get what I deserve, that life is a struggle and the winnings don’t go to the swiftest but to the one who endures. I don’t’ want to endure! So why am I still her writing? HOPE? DEFIANCE? STUPIDITY? – 6h50 I’m ready for a nap already. I’m sitting here, on the bed, nodding off. – It’s supposed to be a scorcher today. – “Meds” this morning? ASA, MultiVit, stomach antacid. No more real “meds”! – 13h23 I have a letter to the nurse to drop in the box down-stairs. The letter is to Ashley about my belongings. She comes to tell me “I gave it to the guy.” People have no sense of responsibility to anything or anybody! These, the ones I’ve met here, who are like that I wouldn’t raise to the level of dick-head. I trust absolutely NONE of them. Not even the sweet and kind. – Meanwhile, I’ve passed the day sketching in this journal, speaking only when I feel it necessary (about my letter), being ignored, trying to escape into sleep, wishing I could go sit somewhere QUIET, have a cigarette. But the blue skies are going grey. It’s quite hot and a bit humid. Too late to head to the Coalition. Weather doesn’t look good for pill on the beach. So we’ll give it another evening and see how disappointing these idiots can be. I can’t fathom that there’s no place for a single. White, healthy, working man to go before dropping right off the face of the world. But that’s the way it is. – There’s a cloud coming of off the ocean. A storm to follow? And me, in-side? – I didn’t even brush my teeth yet today! And who the fk notices? Who the fk cares? I had the phone on earlier. No messages. Not even RAA. Just proves a lot. –NICE! MR. S. IS FARTING AWAY THERE AND THE STENCH IS COMING AT ME! DISGUSTING SHT! Well, when I decide to put on the air conditioner, I’ll remember this consideration… Air is on. I’m going to… I don’t know… wait for the rain? – 18h08 No rain. Not even more clouds. Just another day. Quiet. Keeping to myself. Trying to sleep this night-mare away. No such luck. Then, after dinner, THE HA-HA happened. PSYCH. EVAL.! I can’t be certain if it was for the shelter application or an order from Dr. Melanoma (sic). But is was brief. The nice psychiatrist admired my art-work and left. I wonder if he’ll be back after reading my chart. No sense being preoccupied. What will happen, will happen. (Fk! I want a cigarette!) (OK. That written…) – Phone’s on. No messages. I’ve been in here for NINE day (9 “Supper” lists) and no call from Tommy, Penelope, nobody. Wow! What an impact I’ve had on peoples’ lives. So this all proves: I die. I’m dead. That’s it. That’s all. Another lesson on another day. Thank you and good-night. (Not yet. Too early.)
3 DREAMS:
– Trimming hair and beard in the rain, in the woods.
– Zuri: went to visit him. We went out in The City. Rainy. Cold. Into a building. Nice lobby. Zuri happy. Looking for a place smoke some week in the lobby. 2 guys and a woman come into the building and up the stairs. Zuri comments about how he hates it when non-residents get into the building.
– Penelope is in Oma’s house. We’re packing her things. I will stay on after she leaves to close the house. I have no home. I’m homeless. She knows but won’t let me stay in her house while she’s gone. My siblings come by to bring things out. They too know I’m homeless but make it clear that they’re not offering a place. I tell P. not to worry about things in the house, I’m close by and can get what might be needed. A woman come by. She talks to P. Through the pantry window. She comments on her many achievements. P. tells how intelligent she is. Time for P. to leave. It’s night. It’s raining. I get her to the car. She leaves. I’m relieved because tonight, I have shelter in the rain… but no home.

FRI.5. 7h35 Uneventful evening. The fking radio on all fking night. Of course, he gats meds to help him sleep! But the blame isn’t his, it’s that moron Nurse who turned it (the volume) up. – I’m having great difficulty focusing my eyes this morning. The genl. glasses are failing. it’s been coming for a while. – Last night, I thought: MY SUIT, GOOD SHIRTS, SWEATERS, GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE. COLD WEATHER CLOTHES, GONE!!!!! Why can’t I just throw a grand stroke and die? I’m so stupid. I don’t need the stroke. I’ve got my keys to “out of here”. But the weather is supposed to be a bit on the rugged side this evening and all day tomorrow. So, it’s a matter of patience. As it is, a mist must have come through last night. the bed-table top, air conditioner and window sills were wet. Had I been out last night, I’d have been quite wet this morning. And the sky is grey, no sun, even now at 8h. I’d have been quite uncomfortable. So, it is good that I managed to stay and not leave on Wednesday. Even Jocelyn said, again, last evening “You just get comfortable. You have a roof for a few more days.” And the Nurse I like so much: “You just sit right here until they find some place nice for you!” I’m trying. It’s just too much like a jail! – The Aide who brought me out the other day is on today. Pleasant. I’m doing my best to be the happy-go-lucky one. (The radio plays “Brandy”. My heart goes to Dennis Nixon. My chest collapses into itself. it happens every time.) The staff are truly wonderful for the most part. Supportive. I just need to get my own part of this misery together… one way or another. – It occurred to me: If the psych. was here last night as part of the shelter application, the application hasn’t gone as yet! If what the soc. worker says is true, it takes TWO weeks to hear back! I CANNOT DO THIS HOSPITAL-THING FOR TWO MORE WEEKS! – OK. So one more note on the morning: My BP was a steady 100/70. It’s no a steady 90/60. As of yesterday, I’ll take the vitamin C but nothing more. I should be drinking more water but don’t feel like running to pee all the time. HOWEVER, I don’t want to have to pull stool again. It’s about my comfort now. Things to ponder as I waste away everything. –
Dream: does this dream tell me that my letter WILL get to Ashley and all is NOT lost? – 9h53 Sink bath. Clean bed. Painful memories of Dennis Nixon, Dennis Pearl, Joe Contarino, Joe Corkedale. Painful. Painful. Painful. – 15h07 Stancil has been discharged. I’m alone in the room again. I’m worried about what’s to come. The social worker came in earlier. Told Stancil that they need the bed for “sick” people. She spoke with him and listened to him at length. She ignored the fact that I was in the room! So, Dr. and Soc. Worker are avoiding me. Stamina! That’s what I need now. – Interesting man across the hall. We’ve exchanged quick glances. He’s tall, slender, shaved head, grey beard, long fingers, no ring. I’ll eventually strike a chat… unless they pull him or I get some sort of night-mare room-mate. – For now, I’m just waiting for an opportunity to call the Benjamins to see what’s there. I wonder if Walter returned home and they got another Aide from Premier. If so, I’ll have to see what can be done to change that! If not, there’s something for my mind to work with. – Jocelyn’s on this evening! Stancil’s bed needs stripping. I’m sketching and the past keeps stabbing me in the heart, deeply. The radio is off. No more reminders! – 17h35 The guy across the hall came into sit in the sun and use my other reading glasses. W.I. accent. A little hard of hearing. But he’s doing the crossword in the paper so there must be something OK there. Not that it’s going to make any difference much longer. – Dr. K. came in, very sweet: Any new problems?” she asked. We talked. She judged. I must get back to work and into a place of my own. She was a Dr. in Russia. Came here with husband an daughter. Husband divorced her. She went to school on LOANS!!! for immigrants. How nice for her to have the LOANS option. – Next line? Jocelyn is joining the band. In one breath I must go find work, get out of here. Same breath: the hospital must find me a place, locally, because there’s a lot of health-care work out here. Once again, they’re all so ready with useless advice, but not ONE of any of them will DO anything… like make a referral, ask to submit my CV, make a phone call, give me a job (Brenda? New Haven Home Care?) So, as of now, I’m thinking: Hurricane due tomorrow. I’ll wait it out here. Sunday is supposed to be fine. Tues. another rain. Wednesday’s high in the 70′s! So the cold is coming and I’ve got a day and a half to make drastic changes. NOT ONE FKING SOUL is going to help me out of this! So I’ll leave on Monday morning, first thing. Hey. I still have my “Option” and a nice day on the beach. – FRIENDS? WHAT THE FK? – Haynes is the guy across the hall. – 20h01 Well! Haynes is no my room-mate. Smells terrible of urine. Interesting guy though. Jamaican. Jackson, my previous room-mate, has returned to the floor and is in Hayne’s room. Jackson is as if nothing happened AND he knows Haynes. So we’re a little posse. Only trouble now is the matter of windows. Haynes is moaning that it’s chilly in here (22 degrees). I want the wind to blow out the door (from sht to piss the odours go). I’ll need to figure this out somehow. meanwhile, it should prove interesting all round. Jackson’s back and that will give me a little more stamina to buck this system, I believe. Hey! Sht happens for a reason. Let’s see what this manages to accomplish. – 20h47 and I’m ready for sleep. Evon (Haynes) has his magazine to read, TWO blankets (I got him a second one). Jocelyn just came in to check on us. (She’ll be 65 in 8 days. Bless her.) Jackson’s across the hall. And I can’t imagine how this new social circle happened but of ALL things in ALL places, now I’m part of this “3 guys of 2 North” thing. Maybe it’s intervention because I was feeling a bit alone and getting ready to bolt. Maybe it will turn out to be the cause for my bolting. One thing for certain, I’ve met 2 guys from “The Rock” with whom I might or might not keep in touch but will always know if our paths ever cross again. (How funny that Evon should wind up in this room! To think I’d had my little phantasie and here it is… almost. Ah well, he’s got the wife so, as usual, it remains my little joke… on me. Life remains constant: Hateful!) I’m going to try for some sleep.
DREAM: As I arrived at RPH to get my belongings, even though I had no money, the Mgr. (a guy… Kevin Dick from elem. school!) was handling my letter to the hotel and some paper-work. He told me they got my letter just in time! As I’m listening to the Mgr. Cyndi appears with Tony! I’m livid and ask what she’s doing here. “To help you! I couldn’t let you lose everything!” (The great act). “It never bothered you before!” She and T. played the caring ones to the hilts, I just got increasingly angry. Somehow, I got C and T to pay for redemption and continued storage. But I got to yell at both of them.

SAT.6. 8h51 Breakfast done. Cloudy day. I slept-in until 8h15. The night was OK. Quiet enough. I’ve got a bit of a headache this morning. Evon is very neat and tidy and a fusser. First comment this morning: “This room is only a tad warmer than Alaska.” Earlier this morning I woke in a sweat. – OK. So fine. – Why do I still crave a cigarette? Fked-up. – I just wish I could know what to do on Monday. Is it better to go alone? Or will something better come of staying here and going through this bull-sht? I wish I knew. – No call-back from the Benjamins. But it’s Shabbat. Maybe tomorrow. But the ROOM PHONE rang last night. I wonder… That’s enough wondering for today. My heart is pounding, my chest is closing, my heart is throbbing. All’s normal. All’s well… enough. – Oh jolly, bloody, fk! I’ve been homeless for TWENTY-BLOODY-FKING-THREE DAYS! OVER THREE WEEKS! AND STILL, THERE’S NO RELIEF IN SIGHT. NOBOSY AROUND TO HELP. NOBODY WANTS TO UNDERSTAND. MAYBE THIS IS MY ANSWER… JUMP! AND WORRY ABNOUT IT AFTER. THERE’S ALWAYS GOOD WEATHER COMING AND A NICE PLACE ON THE BEACH… – 13h09 Lunch done. Feeling rather like sht. Tired. Achey. Slept on and off from just after breakfast. Brian (Jackson) came over talking with Evon as I tried to nap. Nurses yelling. It’s quite something how there’s no consideration for anyone. Still, I’ve learnt some about Evon: fisherman, drinker, a bit on the irresponsible side, husband and parent. Alas. – Meanwhile, I’m pondering and considering Monday. My heart is still pounding. My chest still feels as though it’s collapsed in on itself and nobody is aware of it. And my HATRED of sibling, Edlyne Bellanton, the Al Green family and almost the world, grows to extremes causing such pain that it’s almost audible and visible. When I go from this world, I will go in a grand explosion of pure, distilled, basic elemental essence of HATE. – I wonder if these people think me quite the loon: quite homeless, drawing landscapes, writing in my note-book. Hey hey hey. The one who’s walking life’s tight-rope. Tee hee hee. Oh well. It truly doesn’t matter anyway. – 19h11 It rained a bit today. It’s raining a bit now. No major storm. Although the report from yesterday said between 20 and 24h tonight. I haven’t had the TV or radio on all day. I tried to sleep it away. Did, for a while. The sketch for today is horrible. I forced myself to draw. Mountain cliffs. It was a waste. I didn’t feel well. I didn’t feel like drawing with-out reference. I had a headache and not one fking somebody asked me how I was… all day! – Brian and Evon get into a “Who give a fk about you anyway?” today. Evon’s been here for 3 days. N one’s called or come looking for him. Some neighbour actually saw him being taken away in the ambulance too! it got me thinking: I’ve been here for 11 “suppers”. (I count the menus from the meal trays: breakfast, lunch supper is one day. I have 11 sets.) When I left T4 I said I’d probably come to Peninsula. I said I wasn’t feeling well. So? From being on the Fort even back to the days of just being with Penelope every day, every day, to not being there at all, and not being missed? This tells me everything I need to know about the RAA. Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I crushed? No. And, as I’ve pointed out already, Tommy, Penelope, Geoff, Christen, Matt… they’ve know about me sleeping in the Fort. Tommy offered shelter in the bus. Tommy was the only one who offered shelter from the rain. So now that I’m not there, all is perfectly fine for them. And with this time away, I learn that I can go, enjoy a sit on the porch at T7 or T6 and I DON’T HAVE to do sht for ANY of them. What’ s more, I don’t’ need membership in RAA to enjoy The Fort or the buildings. It’s all Federal! If I make it through all of this alive (I make no promises), MUCH is going to be horribly different. – It’s only 21h14 and I feel as though it’s 24h14! It’s still raining, but there’s no indication of any terrible storm. I’ve eaten my little sandwich and banana. The stolen Ensure was never replaced. Evon has been chatting-up a whirl-wind (I wish he’d wash… I had enough of this with dear Bradshaw). And now, the place is as a hospital should be… and I’m just about ready to take advantage of it and try for some sleep before the night gnats come for “vitals”. – Well, it’s raining. it was blustery. I’d have had to find shelter in a battery tonight (if not Tommy’s bus). But here I am, on a bed, finished a sandwich, ready to get under the covers. Focus on that.

SUN.7. 6h26 The day is beginning again. Clear skies on this 12th day of captivity, 24th day of homelessness. It’s quiet in this room. It’s quiet on the floor. I slept rather well through the night. How unfortunate that my sleep had to be ruined by my waking this morning. Ah, but one day, soon. I won’t disturb my slumber ever again. For now, I have headache, nausea. I need a haircut, shave, brush my teeth. I’ll try for basin wash at some point. For now? It’s a lovely morning, I’m awake and very sorry about it. – 7h35 I’ve tried about 4 sketches in the space on the page. Erased them all. I can’t focus on any subject long enough to come through with a sketch. It’s 7h35 on a clear day and I’m in bed! This is fking fked up! And, quite frankly, I’m getting fed-up with all the W.I. and Guyanese and assorted other accents around here. I’m trapped in a 3rd World! – I’m actually rotting away in here. Rotting away. My brain is going dim. How to get out. How to begin the cycle of escape. That’s all I need to figure. Where to begin! – 10h23 Washed… basin washed. Window open. Nice breeze coming in. At 8h this morning, the temperature was 68 degrees. I wonder what the days and nights to come will bring. My mind just will NOT grasp this homelessness. This pen won’t even write the word. I can’t seem to figure what to do when I walk out the door of this hospital because mentally, I can’t seem to get past: out the door, go for cigarettes and a jumble of JCCRP, the Coalition, Intake, laundry, food. Nothing long-term. No long-term solution. It’s a new experience, having NO SHLETER> I’ve had a car in the past. Now I don’t even have that! But this hospital thing has got to stop, stop soon, just stop! – 20h20 The sun is gone from the sky. I’ve finished my turkey sandwich and Ensure. My teeth and gums, upper left, are sore. Evon is whining about being cold. The breeze coming in the window is almost warm! Another night lost in here. I could be, or should be out there in weather like this! Brian and I were talking about it earlier. A tent and sleeping bag. That’s all it takes. The tent to protect from wet. The bag to protect from cold. All I need is the money. – Meanwhile, my eyes won’t focus well tonight. I’m wearing the stronger glasses too. Not good. – I had the cell phone on for a while. No messages. People aren’t worth caring for or about. – I’m antsy about getting out of here. I wish I could figure the logistics. But Brian does have a point when he tells me to ride it out and ride it though. Tomorrow’s yet another day. STRENGTH AND COURAGE! – I have to wonder about Evon though. There are moments when one would believe that he and I are some kind of an item. A look. A glance. After all, he did come to his door to wave that day. When I talk with Brian, he’s obviously displeased and will demand speaking time. This evening, he pulled back the curtain between the beds to talk. Hell. If he wants to do something, I’m quite willing (after a little washing-up of course). Relationship? Probably not. But a bit of “Occupational Therapy” certainly wouldn’t hurt. And hey! Brian said we could pass for brothers. We’re equally tall and built. How funny is that? So, if he’s cold, I know how to make for warm. But I do need to stop for the night. I’m tired. – I was writing, I was doodling. I looked up. Evon, lying on his side, staring at me, in silence. Is there something I’m not getting? Or something I’m fabricating? Oh, what difference would it make anyway? None. I’m a dead-end road. He’s 57 and wants more life. Not working. But a fling? Hell yeah! (Time for sleep now Bonzo!)
DREAMS SUN-MON: 7-8
(1)Driving new car over back roads that were undeveloped. Many, many new homes! Driving fast! John in car with me yelling at me to slow down. We got to his house. He was preparing to go to some cook-out. Knew I had no place to live. Would NOT even let me stay in the house for the day.
(2)Working at Peninsula. First day on job. Had E. as my pt. Got no help or support from Nursing staff. Very early in the morning (dark out). E. wanted to know the time. No clocks any-where. Wanted to bather and have cigarette. I told him I’d get bathing supplies, but NO cigs! Had to take bed out of room into hall. E. went to arrange shower. I went to get supplies. Could barely fit into room for supplies! Got soaps at last… Outside, working. Many Nurses working, having in-service. Smoking! I asked how this was possible. Told “Depends on who you know around here.” Continued to work. Said nothing.
(3)Wash clothes in Zip-Lock bags. I washed and saved the Zip-Lock bags.

MON.8. 8h05 TWO DREAMS last night. Woke this morning, most uneasy about being here. Just no quite comfortable. Anticipating some turmoil. – Beautiful weather out there this morning. – Evon is down for echo-cardiogramme already. I wonder if they’ll discharge him soon. – I’m thinking about the fact that my homelessness is getting into my dreams! But do solution. Unless there’s some element I’m over-looking. I’ll work on that. But today, I’ll call JCCRP. See what Jacquie has to offer. (8h12 and 65 degrees F.) It was cold last night. I put the heat on. Time to seriously think about where to go! I still can’t quite grasp the fact that this hospital room is all I’ve got left. It just can’t be like this! It just can’t! 13 DAYS IN HOPSITAL. 25 DAYS HOMELESS! – I’m just growing increasingly HATEFUL! – 19h25 Sun is gone already. Day is done. It was wasted. It was interesting. It wasn’t worth being here for. – Kleymenova has shown her nastiness with Evon (proper spelling) by coming in a telling him that his primary physician doesn’t … no… won’t see him because of his drinking. And she told him this in the room so I heard it! It pissed him off! Rightfully. Then she came to me and mentioned the Social Worker. So I told her how this one stopped the process for what-ever reason. She didn’t understand me completely. But I don’t expect her to. I really don’t even care anymore. She isn’t worth my time. – So I got one sketch done today. It’s getting easier to sketch but more difficult to come up with ideas. Although, I tend to keep going back to Shawangunk. I don’t know if I should drop this dream of Rockaway and go back to those mountains to die. Or should I live-out my end at Gaston. No matter which, there’s no place out there for me to call “Home” and being here isn’t an option much longer. I can’t take much more of this imprisonment. – On top of all of this, Evon seems to have a rather slipped nut. Hallucinations. No, more like paranoid delusions. He described a scenario where-by he was constricted by some ex-girl’s boyfriend who tried drugging him IM. Threatened to hack him to pieces, etc. Today he claims that he came to the ER because he escaped BUT that his tormentor followed him in ! OK. Of course there’s something terribly wrong with him… I find (found?) him attractive. That says it all. Still, if the situation presented… – Well. My armpits are disgusting. A shower tomorrow. It’s supposed to rain. I’ll stay the day. No sense busting out in the rain. For tonight? The air outside is gently moving. There’s a cricket outside the window. A new group of evening staff. Quite the ugly bunch. Evon is reading Time., I’m hungry, even after my sandwich. I NEED TO FIGURE OUT WHERE TO GO TO GET THE BLOODY FKNG HELL OUT OF HERE REALLY PRONTO SOON!!!!! – Oh, I wrote the “Hate” letter about siblings, in-laws, Margot and Edlyne. It’s written, done and in a jar addressed to that fk-off at 19 CTN, ready to be tossed to sea (or simply placed beside my dead carcass on the beach). At least the guilty fks have been recorded. Fking murdering morons. OK. End of day.
DREAM: Liz (Colbert) and I are attending some benefit do in some high society. I am spending most of my time moving about trying to avoid her. There is a woman there who has been giving me food. I’m not grateful to her because she’s only given food and not another thing. I need a home. I’m homeless. But I feel I must thank for the food and do so by way of telling her that people are making compliments on my weight gain. (This woman looks like Mrs. Farnaby from “Mulberry” but is Margot (Baldinger)). I bolt for the door to get back to the train station. Some women are talking about “the old rail line” and the schedule and cost of tickets. I’m very glad to see these people. I run, RUN down the dirt road (17k) toward the sun-set. There are translucent stones along the way (beach). A woman yells to me “You can carry your back-pack too, at no extra charge!” We laugh. I see the sun-set, stop running and yell “Why am I not here? Why am I not there?” I’m sobbing. 9.9

TUE.9. 6h53 Clouds in the sky (lyrics to remind me of the fking bull-sht misery caused by that useless sister! First bloody-fking thing in the bloody-fking morning!) but they’re breaking up a bit. It got cold last night. It was damp in here this morning. It’s supposed to rain today. Evon will be discharged, though I can’t see how, since he has no clothes. – My gums are swollen. Painful. I brush my teeth but need the god brush. – This morning’s dreams woke me trying to catch my breath. I’m breaking-down. My chest has collapsed. First thing in the morning. Anxiety! I’m breaking down and there’s STILL no one to talk to, no one to advise me, no one to HELP ME! FK YOU ALL! What I need to do is decide on a destination and jump. Just get up, shower, dress, GO. Eliminate all the details. Focus on me. GO! If I don’t do this now, I’ll break-down and seriously become on of those insane homeless. Bad? I’m no so sure. But dead would be better, and can be done.
In the dream: I WAS RUNNING WET ON A DIRT 17K, HEADED TOWARD THE SHAWANGUNKS. I SOBBED: “WHY AM I NOT HERE? WHY AM I NOT HERE? WHY AM I NOT HERE? WHY AM I NOT THERE?” I was home-sick for Shawangunk. I missed Rockaway. Split. Torn. Shredded. I sobbed. Now, awake, I need to go. But I don’t know where to go. II just don’t know which way to go. FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME IN MY ENTIRE LIFE I HAVE ABSOLUTLEY NO ONE TO TURN TO AND ABSOLUTELY NO WHERE TO GO. I’M SIMPLY VOID. – 7h14 The clouds are coming in again. I need a shower today. Soon, I’ll need to wash the scrubs I’ve been wearing. The floor is quiet. Soon it will be “vitals”, breakfast, “meds”, opinions, judgments, questions, no help, no help, no help. Where can I go on cold, rainy nights? I’m thinking Norwood. No Pookie any more. Probably no Nick. No Janice. No Rita. No Jack. No Jim. I want to vomit. I wish I could. Schrader Bridge? I doubt it. I want to vomit. I wish I could. – DRAW! SKETCH! AVOID? YES! AVOID! It’s my ONLY HELP! Like Marianne (the Social Worker) said: “Un-pack you pencils…” – 11h43 STORM! RAIN! – I’m showered. Social Worker came in, no intro. Jumped into Evon. Suggested discharge to ETOH Tx pgm! I commented about no proper into. “I know what I’m doing.” Was her reply. “I don’t think so. I’m still here.” “And you know the shelter system.” – 20h43 A truly ridiculous day. Kleymenova wouldn’t let Brian come across the hall to this room. When I went over to his, an NA came to throw me out. We were treated like children! The Social Worker avoided me. Evon yelled at Kleym because of an X-ray of a hand that Kleym said he was to drunk to recall. I simply pointed-out: You come to the ER complaining of chest pain. Why would they X-ray your hand? Well. When it came down to the bottom line, that the point that settled the matter. But the “damage” was done. We 3 were questioning authority and authority doesn’t like it. So, somewhere along the line it was done that Evon will be discharged tomorrow. That was before he told the Social idiot his tale of terror. Now we’ll see if somebody doesn’t call a psych consult. Even now he’s insisting that something is planted in his knee brace where-by the guy can play music in his ear. In one respect, I hope they keep him here, in this room, a bit longer. He’s fking nuts and I know it. But, in another respect, it will be fine if he goes. If he goes off one night, what the hell will happen? Anyway… my teeth are killing me and I have no salt nor my iodine! – MEESSAGE AT 15h15 TODAY: TOMMY. HVEN’T SEEN YOU AROUND IN A WHILE. JUST CALLING TO CHECK IN WITH YOU. GIVE ME A CALL. It was exactly TWO weeks ago today, 14 days that I’ve been in this hole and only now do I get the call. Oh well. It came. It won’t be returned. – So, what I need, still, to decide is where I’m going when I walk out of here. I don’t know that I’ll make it to the “shelter” bit. I’m either going to Gaston or Shawangunk at this point. Which one? Time will tell. – It’s 21h16. Nice breeze coming in the windows, a few planes leaving in clear skies. A bit chilly in here but that might be partly due to the pain in my teeth/mouth and head. Evon is watching TV. I have to pee and try for sleep. I’m hoping to see Jocelyn. I’m hoping Mariane is OK. I’m wishing I could make my mind up as to where I’ll go when I leave here! The truth of the matter? My mind just will NOT accept being homeless! My efforts now? Getting my self to simply deal with non-existence. The end. – 3 more sketches and I’ll have 55 for the book. I think that will dictate when I leave here.

WED.10 7h13 The woman across the hall is moaning that gurgling moan/whine already. Non-stop! This morning I want to go over and yell at her to shut the fk up! The staff is strolling the halls, laughing and just having a jolly time of it. Brian is on the phone, discussing his pending surgery to have one sub-clavian removed and another inserted. There are complications involved. He’s annoyed. Evon woke in a demanding sort of mood. Went down the hall to shower. He’s planning on leaving this morning. The Social Cow told him she’d get him a set of scrubs to wear when he leaves. He has no shoes. – TV shows 59 degrees F. Night bring seriously cool temperatures. I’ve got to figure this out! – My gums are sore. My right nut hurts. My heart throbs. My eyes burn. And that woman across the hall is STILL gurgling/whining/moaning relentlessly! More rain in the forecast. A couple of chilly nights to come. I scan my brain and areas from Ulster to The City. I cant’ think of where to GO! I’ve GOT to find SOME where to GO TO! – It was just past 8h. A man walks into the room, come up to the bed. ”Good morning. How are you?” He’s carrying tubes and syringes. I can’t see his ID. “It depends… What’s all that for?” “Your doctor ordered blood-work.” “No.” I refused. (A) Who the fk are you? (B) No doctor discussed ANY “work” with me. (C) Kleym isn’t even speaking to me on general terms. (D) I’m not in the mood to be poked with needles. – Meanwhile, breakfast is done. My armpits are going bad again. I need to take a dump and I NEED TO FIGURE WHERE I’M GOING WHEN I WALK OUT THE DOOR! – 13h49 I did the blood-work because it was (allegedly) requested by the shelter system. This draw hurt like hell and left quite the lump! And I spoke with Kelym, who is being a bit nicer today. That led to a chat with the Social Cow who is also being quite sweet. She says she’s hoping for some word by Friday. Me? I’m at a point where I don’t much care any longer. (Evon was showered and ready to go by about 8h. He’s just leaving! Disposable scrubs and 5 dollars from the hospital. It’s gone quiet. In a sense, I’m glad he’s gone. He’s pig-headed and can be inexplicably nasty. B. says it’s the ETOH. It was getting to the point where I was losing my patience with him. But now? There’s an empty bed. A connection with the outside is gone. I don’t know what kind of Hell they’ll put in this room with me. That bothers me the most. Hopefully I’ll be granted at least 2 days’ reprieve and 2 night’s sleep with fresh air and peace. But I’m not counting on it. I know better. Meanwhile, My sketches are bringing me to Shawangunk now. The memories are so painful! SO painful. I find myself lying back in the bed and actually saying “Oh my god!” But I’ve got 2 more sketches to bring all to a total of 55. Then, hopefully, I can leave here, go to The Fort, put the 55 sketches into book form: a little hard/cloth cover. A day’s work plus getting the materials from a 99-cent store. 2 day’s work at most. After that? The beach… the end. I’ve had enough of all of this. And to be thrown away into the shelter system is like just so much recycled trash. As I understand it, it’s only for the night. At a certain hour one must leave for the day. Yes, I can fill a day. But what I want to do is fill my day with work, my evening with relaxation, my night with sleep. I don’t see that EVER coming… especially not now, not with these memories and hate and sadness. Best choice: a couple of cool nights out while working on the sketch book. One fine day on the beach somewhere and just go. It won’t make any difference to anybody anyway. – I asked, again, to speak with the Rabbi here. I’m not sure why or what I’ll say, but I actually feel the getting older and it’s time to stop it. I’m getting older and more useless. – I think of Zuri. He too, felt he had no one. Little did he know… he had me. Now? Neither of us has the other. So? Now I can go look him up… his way. I hope it will be a great re-union! – It’s 14h22 The sun is shining. A few clouds on the western horizon. Soon, the sun will gush in through the window. Brian is off the floor some-where. I’m solo, alone, solitary. Alone. Alone. Alone… – 20h32 Evon finally left well after lunch. He truly didn’t want to go but his attitude made his departure a relief. But the loneliness set in and even now, there’s that hole in my gut. I’ve done with my evening sandwich and a piece of pound cake that Evon brought me when he came back this evening. Had a nice visit with Brian for a while, just sitting in his room, talking, until his wife came. I’m trying to fill time. I feel I have to fill time now. I’m not thinking of leaving here to a shelter or toher housing. It’s a matter of a day at the beach, out to sea, to my Shawangunks and anywhere else in Creation that I decide to go. It’s my 54th sketch. – One thing I have to note is that I’m going to miss this room something awful! The view of landing jets, departing jets… MAGNIFICENT! It’s almost like bird-watching: different air-lines, different colours, different size place. All, so wonderful! Sometimes I am as excited as a little kid. So, I did say I wanted to live in Rockaway. (These planes are STUPENDOUS! Shadows. HUGE shadows with little lights, floating in the night sky!) I guess I should have specified the conditions. Well, for now, I get to be here, in Rockaway, enjoying the air traffic, hope for peace in this hospital and wait for my moment of walking out into the world, making my book and taking it to sketch 54. – 21h17 TV on. I want a smoke. My gums are core. It’s a cool night. I’ll be out, alone, in the cool night, soon…
DREAM: Filming an advert for some product I was familiar with, I saw the crew taking a break from filming, mulling about in the water on some sort of bay area. Cows. They were using cows, in ocean water. I was amazed at the aspect: cows and the sea. 2 cows broke from the herd and were frolicking. I went to the terrace to have a cigarette and watch. – In the apartment, a breech of security. A homeless woman stowed away in an under-the-floor area where the air conditioning units were located. I knew the area because I’d been at the apartment during construction. – (Same dream, switch) Staying at someone’s home. Run-down. Dirty. Cyndi, I recall. A stray dog. Hungry. Dirt. I take it in. Feed and bathe it. Cyndi is angry with me because of the dos. She sees it suffer and doesn’t care. – I’m lying down, not feeling well. She comes in, sweeping the floor. Kitty litter. She sweeps a large amount across the floor at me. She just stares at me. I look at her. Nothing is spoken. I understand that she wants me to leave. I have no place to go. The dog and I leave.

THU.11 7h08 Overcast this morning. 7 years since the World Trade Centre atrocity. How I can still recall it so vividly. How my web-site with photos and such are gone. How my life, my past, my existence is gone. Nothing from before remains. Nothing, Nothing at all. Penelope said that I could re-invent myself out here in Rockaway. I suppose I’ve done that: a free-loading indigent, useless, friendless, ready to die, in silence, alone. What ever happened to the happy guy who took 3 rooms for 700 dollars a month in 3150? Wow! How he got wiped out of existence! And in his stead, here I am. Alone in a hospital room. – Why did I grow so hateful of the old German man in my dream last night/this morning? Why the German? Why did the dream end with cuttings of philodendron being rooted in vases? WHY, IN THIS DREAM, AM I NOT HOMELESS? A CHANGE. BUT SHARING THE ROOM WITH 2 OTHERS: BLACK AND LATINO. BUT I’M NOT HOMELESS. Why so angry with the German? Things to work through today. – It’s overcast. This room is empty. The floor is quiet. May it stay this way while I try to figure out what to do next. – One more sketch for my book of 55. I wonder how the book will end. Then I have to get out of here to compile it, to put it together, to go and get out of all of this… ALL of this! – 19h25 The sun is setting. Night again. But out of this day came a touch of humanity… the clouds cleared, Brian went to surgery. I was alone for the day. 54 sketches for the book. The index is done to number 54. As I sat, having a snooze, I thought to go to Rachel, my Nurse for the day to check on permission to go outside. She told me that she had no problem with letting me leave the floor to go outside. At that moment, I didn’t want to go but wanted to know if I could when I had cigarettes. So. I can. Next? I asked Brian (before he’d gone to surgery) if his wife would get me a pack of cigarettes. She did! (Ultra-lights, but they’re cigarettes!) OK? I’m sitting quietly, having dinner and Rachel comes in, asks me why I’m not getting kosher meals! She’s Orthodox! She arranged to change my meals to kosher! We talk about “looking Jewish”. She doesn’t . I don’t. We talk more. To top it all off, Jocelyn’s on tonight. She’s back! She took me out for a walk (and 2 cigarettes) around the hospital parking lot and into the Nursing Home. She knows somebody in Home Health. She’s going to try to hook me up with a live-in! No promises but a try! And, I come back to the room and there’s another tray: Kosher! Containers of egg salad, potato salad, apple sauce, apple juice! Food! More food! So, for an evening, for a night, I get to be human. I got to talk about my feelings with Jocelyn. She keeps encouraging me to hold on. Oh, and the Social Worker claims: she called JCCRP twice and left messages on their voice mail, and she put in a call to the hospital rabbi, and that all the paper-work for the shelter is in. Do I believe her? Hell no. But I’m allowing her little game and being “thankful”. – Fun note for the day? Brian and Jocelyn were telling me how they luv watching the planes out here! – 20h59 Stevie Nicks on the radio and my entire body aches with the pain of melancholy! It even hurts in my feet. Such a wonderful evening. But you know? This is the “good” I do deserve before I go to the beach, the sea, my mountains. Yes, it’s a great day and good times. But it’s truly time to finish my little sketch book and leave. One more sketch. One more sketch.
DREAM: I managed to return to Rockaway park Hotel, room number 2. it had a kitchen, and 2 rooms. I was preparing a meal before going to work. A Black man came in and went to the front closet. He was looking for his clothes that he always kept in there. I said it was OK with me. I went to the bedroom to dress for work. Clock radio was giving the news. I didn’t catch any of it. Returned to kitchen to find a young Latino in there with all sorts of groceries. Apparently he too had access to the place (3 of us). I knew I couldn’t say anything because I had to be OK with being allowed to return in the first place. This kid was preparing a meal for his girl-friend! Hungry, I went into the next room where 2 old people were sitting having breakfast. It was a hospital tray breakfast. I went back to the kitchen for some food for me and the kid was listening to music, water spraying everywhere! I fixed that, returned to the other room. The old lady offered me her left-overs to eat. She’d drooled into every-thing! She smiled at me. I let it pass. The old man, a German, offered. He handed me empty cups! I was so angry at him. I told him he was an insult to all Germans, the reason the world hated us and he should go to Hell. He said, backing against the wall, “THIS IS HELL!” So I said “You should never die and stay right here for eternity!” I went to the kitchen to find food. Nothing! Just cuttings from a philodendron in some glass vases. I cleaned the kitchen. I was hungry.

FRI.12 7h18Overcast. The floor is dead silent. It’s strange: almost a full house yet no one is moaning… not even the staff. – I had a terribly restless night. I’m exhausted. I don’t’ believe I actually got much more than a few moments’ sleep all night. No dreams. Just no rest. – I’ve brushed my teeth, had a BM, washed my arm-pits and well, that’s the extent of it. I don’t’ much care about the rest. The door is closed. I could go back to sleep. I don’t want to. I’m growing very anxious to get out of here. Very anxious. And there’s an intro to the sketch book to write, something scathing. I want people (if any) to know how painful these sketches have been!
I want people to know why there was so much pain and who caused it! Nobody cares about it now. Nobody will really care about it eve. But I just won’t go in a little veil of silence. So this day opened, off to doing nothing again, except waiting for this new day to end. – 12h06 Evon came round about 11h30. Said he had to go to Medical Records. Brought me a pkg. of 2 little banana-nut muffins and a can of Mountain Dew. I’m wondering where it came from and why he brings it to me. Hell! It would be better if he’d stop bringing stuff and offer a place to sty. From what I hear him and Brian talking, his block (63) is tough. But I wanted to live on 67. So? Anyway, it’s sweet of him to even think of me at all. – Breakfast this morning was Kosher! The eggs, scrambled, microwave to the point of rubber. Really disgusting. It’s as if we’re being punished for being kosher. Sometimes I wonder. – I’m ever so tired today. But it’s day-time, not sleep time. I could benefit from a shower but truly? I don’t’ have the care, concern or ambition to go down the hall. – My life is slowly moving into non-existence. Perhaps this is good. Perhaps these are the days I have been awarded to obliterate my mark, my remnants, my “footprint” in Creation so that I can leave and all of my space will be available for some-body else. I’ll be forgotten even before I’m gone. How ‘bout that? – One thought: I’ve been in Peninsula for 17 days. I’ve asked to speak with a rabbi 3 or 4 times. The Social Worker told me that she put in a call twice. I’ve seen no rabbi. Just a thought to note. – 20h10 Dark. Raining. The room is empty, save for me. They took the other bed out earlier to replace another down the hall. It’s made this room feel huge and empty. And it couldn’t happen at a worse time. I’m about to slip a mental cog here right about now. But to recap the day’s events: At about 13h30, Joyce (BA) took me down-stairs where I had two cigarettes and got to stand out in a light drizzle. Somehow, I got the feeling that I can handle just walking out of here. Little did I know. And I got back up to the room feeling sure enough about getting out of here with no place to go to. But, little did I know. – Next thing I know… Janet McGowan, Nursing supervisor comes in, introduces herself, sits at the window and starts schmoozing. She asks if Roseanne (the social worker) is helpful. I told her how uncertain I am about everything because I’m getting partial information and it’s vague at that. Janet went for my chart. She explained that I could not, just glance through it but if I had a specific item of interest, she’d go through with me. I wanted to know how I was going to be eligible for a :medical” shelter instead of a general and what’s the difference. Come to find out, Roseanne actually found the COPD diagnosis and is trying to ride that to a “Medical” shelter. Why? Because she thinks it should be better than a regular shelter. Interestingly enough, these people are familiar with sending folks to shelters, but they can’t tell anybody anything about them! It’s another Margot Baldinger, “You can go to a shelter” situation! They’re all completely clueless, but they keep throwing people into shelters. Well, Janet was good enough to take the time to come by. I appreciated that. She left and I tried to do some drawing but I’m empty these days. Nothing in the way of art. OH! She (Janet) asked me if I was familiar with the RAA! As if anything there would do me any good. As if it’s done me any good so far? She and I discussed the sense of community here, in the Rockaways but as we see, it does me not one bit of anything. – So, I’m sitting here in the room alone. Outside, the rain is coming steadily. Roseanne walks in to hand me a list of “Walk-In-Drop-In” shelters! She tells me that Kleymenova told her that I’m free to go now and that I don’t need a medical shelter! But Roseanne gave me the option of staying until Monday to see if any word comes in on the medical shelter. KLEYMENOVA WOULD TOSS ME OUT OF HERE AT 16h ON A RAINING FRIDAY!!!!! NO PLAE TO GO! THE CENSUS ISN’T AT 100 SO THEY DON’T NEED THE BED! I thanked Roseanne for the option, said I’ll hold steady for Monday and told her how Kleym’s attitude toward me changed as soon as she learned I’m homeless. Roseanne told me that Kleym and her little side-kick are giving her a hard time and are being quite miserable and rude toward her. I keep thinking of how I’ll luv reporting this to the media. Roseanne is trying to do the humane thing while the “doctor” is trying to throw me out at the end of the work-week, in the rain! Well, the good thing is that Roseanna and I have made amends. Although I told her about “Home Base” in the hope she’s try them while I’m here but I don’t think she will. I’m giving her leads to networking. She’s not picking-up on them. Oh well. More leg work for me when I get out of here. – Next: dinner comes. Kosher. Horrible. Meagre. And no sandwich for later! Breakfast was disgusting. Lunch was a sorry joke. Dinner was a curse. But just as I was finishing THE RABBI CAME!!!!! We schmoozed about the question “Why?”. He spoke on why we cover our eyes for the “Sh’ma”, why we schuckle. We touched on my homelessness. He had to leave. Everyone’s right there to lend a helpless hand. Even the rabbi. Still, he was quite nice enough for the moment. It was just such a great relief to be able to sit with a rabbi. I’ve only waited 17 days? – Rabbi leaves, Brian comes in. We get to talking about me being tossed. He insists that I just hold tight until they actually throw me out of here. Seems he’s hanging on for some reasons too. Mortgage difficulties that can be way-laid while he’s in hospital. We’re “in it” almost together. But he knows something about the system. Seems Fate put me here for shelter from the cold and rain, and put Jackson and I together for much-needed moral support! I’ll have to see about keeping in touch with him after. He’s worried about losing his entire house. Meanwhile, he’s got family living there who won’t help. Familiar? – I’ve got another note to Ashley ready to go. I was hoping to get it into the letter-box down-stairs tonight (and have a smoke) but the day-shift Nurses left, the evening shift NA’s came on (none of them are very kind-hearted) and it got to the hour where the front door is locked for the night. I suppose I could try hanging out my window for the smoke but… it’s not worth the possibility of being tossed immediately. It’s 21h43. Planes are flying but the clouds are thick and low. Can hear but can’t see. It’s a light drizzle again and I’m exhausted from almost no sleep last night. And, that male Nurse with the attitude difficulty is on. So? I NEED a shower but I NEED SLEEP! Over the week-end I’ll finish the 55th sketch and introduction to the book. I’ll plan my day of discharge and that night. I’ll have me prepared for the worst. AND I’LL HAVE ME PREPARED FOR MY OPTION TO COMPLETELY OPT-OUT.

SAT.13 6h42 It’s 21 degrees in the room. 65 degrees F. outside. Slight cloudiness in the sky. I’m up, after a night of utter anxiety attacks. I’ll have nothing to wear in this cooler weather if everything at the hotel is gone AND even if it isn’t, I can’t afford to pay to get it out AND I have no place to put it if I do! So, this morning I’ll be finishing the sketch book 55. I’ll hop like hell to find some work space at RAA to put it together this week coming. Tomorrow is the opening reception for ART SPLASH 2008. I just hope I can get my little sketch book done. And then? A quiet day on the beach into a peaceful night into eternity. It’s time to go. I’ve done all I can and all I should. What’s more, I’ve done my best. I’m alone now and nobody cares. I’m alone now and the race is all finished. I’m alone now and whether I’m alive or dead makes no difference at all. I came from my mother’s womb alone. I came into this world alone. It’s time to leave it all… alone. I’ve done my best. There’s nothing more. – 21h22 THE PARTS OF THE SKETCH BOOK ARE COMPLETE. 55 SKETCHES, INDEX AND LETTRE. DONE. COMPLETE. NOW ALL I HAVE TO DO IS GET IT ASSEMBLES. THEN? GASTON. WE GO HOME. WE GO HOME. – Satancil is back. How strange is that? Olga took me down to the letter box this morning. I dropped another note to Ashley to make certain they know I’ve not abandoned my belingings. I had ta smoke. Olga said I’m not supposed to have a cigarette. I’m wondering if that’s why Kleymenova is so determined to dump me… insubordination. She says don’t smoke, gives me a diagnosis of emphysema and I smoke. An affront to the doctor. No doubt. Ah well. So she shoves me out into no-where. Thank you dear Ms. Kelymenova. – Jocelyn took me for a walk this evening She tells me of a Black girl down the hall who comes in here and stays, sometimes, for months because she has no home and simply refuses to leave. The claim here is: Kleym has cleared me medically. I can walk out at any time I choose. Once I do, absolutely everything that’s been done as far as shelters, etc. is completely wiped-out. And Peninsula has no responsibility for me. I’ve walked on my own, of my own accord. On the flip side, I’m still covered by the law that prohibits the hospital from discharging me to no-where. IF I can tolerate the looks, the attitudes, the generally nasty demeanour of Kleymenova and her Kleymenettes, I can actually keep this going. The good of that? Shelter, food, bed, shower. Bad? Never getting to work because I can’t lave. Trapped. Confined. Imprisoned. What do I want right now? Finish the 55 Book, go HOME! So, I’ll see what comes Monday. We work from there. – 22h28 Jocelyn got Stancil some cookies. She’s on until 7h. Offered to get me something. I declined the offer. I appreciate that she takes me out for a while. She never came through with the connection to “Al” who works at Peninsula and a Home Care agency. She’s suggested I apply for work here via Roseanne. Well, what the fk? Maybe I will. Shits’n’giggles. Right now? Bottom line: It really is time to go home. – Let’s see if there are dreams tonight.. I’ve hung the Kabalah sefirot over my bed. A pencil sketch with a paper towel “frame”. – Time for the 23h news. Night shift on. Sleep?

SUN.14. 7h 71 degreesF Over-cast. The air conditioner and bed table were wet this morning. Weather report calling for 84 degreesF. Today is the opening reception for Art Splash. Today is “Broadway On Broadway” Today I have only the clothes I slept in for two weeks. Today I am in this prison waiting to die. That’s what it’s come to… I’m just waiting to die. My clothes are at the hotel. Maybe they’re not. I’ve no place to go at night, when it’s cold. No offers of employment, even from those who could employ me. No employment, no income – no income, no home – no home, no clothing – no… I need a shave, a haircut, a bread trim, deodorant. The calluses are coming back on my feet. That’s interesting because I haven’t worn shoes in 19 days! My own body hates this and me. I want to make the book of 55 sketches and leave, just leave all of this behind. None of this is worth the effort. -I was up at 5h27 with the yelling of the staff in the halls. They have absolutely no consideration, no sense of anything or anybody but themselves. Yelling to each-other up and down the halls. I got up to pee and came back to bed. Back to0 bed. That’s all I ever do… back to bed. – Well, this miserable day has begun. I have no urge, no inspiration to draw anything. No inspiration to write prose. Nights are now dreamless. Days are simply a burden. Tomorrow I’ve been homeless for 32 days and in here 20. Other people get out of this. How do I? – Gaston. – 7h50 I came out here to Rockaway to separate from the world, get away from everything and every body. I came here to leave the bull-sht and heart-aches behind me, to be new, different. How strange: I’m in this hospital room, alone… no friends, no family, no one to turn to… severed from everything and everybody. Now, the decision to make is: IS THIS A BEGINNING? OR IS THIS THE END? AM I EXPECTED TO RE=START OR SIMPLY STOP? Is it time to think? – Rachel is on this morning. She tells me that Brenda too is Orthodox! In her words: “This hospital is infested” with Orthodox Nurses. Then she says “Maybe this is why god put you in the hospital” (to come back to religion). “We’ll make a rabbi out of you…” – I just want a cigarette, a shower, a long walk, a bus rise, out of here, out of this. – 16h24 and I’ve just come from a shower and, may I report, a “Battery Kessler”. The sun is coming int6o the window as well as heat and humidity. A very hot day indeed. Joyce took me down=-stairs for 2 cigarettes at about 13h or so. It was more like July than September. But, come Wednesday, the night temps will be dropping. I probably will be as well. – The day ha been one of sleeping on and off. Avoidance. – Rachel is now calling me “Rabbi Kessler” and she and Brenda got into the “only” Jew is and Orthodox Jew bit. How cute. But Rachel asked if I have tsitsis. I told her no, but I have my tallit. “Katkan?’ “No. Gadol.” She’s encouraging me to wear my kippa all the time. Honestly? It’s fun. I’m Conservative and happy with that. – Now to the dirt: the ghetto woman in 57 got caught today. Seems she had a Black man with her in bed all night. A White man came to bring her something, caught her with the other one, got pisses. I didn’t hear any hollering or such, but security was sent for. Meanwhile, I hear that she has been discharged in the past, to shelters and such, in The Bronx and will come all the way back to Peninsula because here, she can get away with going to smoke, or, as is suspected, get her drugs and come back in! She’s been known to stay for MONTHS while suitable shelter is sought for her. MONTHS! And so, I’ve been unofficially instructed to bear in my mind that: I will leave when she leaves. Do I want to stay here? Oh hell NO! But until I can actually figure how to leave and not fall on my face, it appears that this is where I’ll be. Besides, I’m looking quite forward to the END of all this bull-sht that some folks call “life”. A comfy day on the beach and, as I wrote yesterday… We go home. – So, it’s past 17h. Dinner is here and gone and was terrible. Same as yesterday, I believe. Microwaved to DEATH! Kosher? Punishment. – Jocelyn’s been floated over to Peds. I’m going to have to see if I can’t get Judith to take me down for the few moments. I’m also going to have to see if there’s and ATM about in case I’m here through this pack of cigarettes. Hey! I don’t’ know about my decisions from one moment to the next! Right now, I’ll go see about and “escort” to the door. DInner trays are being picked-up. It’s visiting hours. Maybe? – 18h30 Jocelyn came in with a styro-plate, Salisbury steak, potatoes, chocolate milk, apple juice. I enjoyed the milk. Then I enjoyed the steak. OK. It’s not Kosher. But food is more important. Especially now when I’m looking at being homeless and out in the world again… soon. I asked her if she’d walk me down. She said she’d be back in an hour. The sun is setting and a much as I like being out in the dark, I’d rather go during some daylight. Judith hasn’t returned to the floor yet. I might be able to find a sympathetic Nurse (Rachel? Elaine? Maybe. Brenda? Lecture!) but, I’ll wait to see if Judith or Jocelyn will come through. If not? I’ll expect that. – Finished my roll and Ensure. Would like another smoke but Judith took me out earlier and well, there won’t be another tonight. – I’m not looking forward to tomorrow at all! 20 fking days in here! 10 days short of a fking month! As I think about it, I’m breaking a sweat. I really need to get out of here whether these buffoons help or not. Sht! Time to just GO. – The bit about wearing a kippa? Maybe Rachel is right. Maybe coming here has a “greater reason.” I’m just thinking. – Meanwhile, Stancil and I have been watching TV. My stomach is bad. I’m having horrible chest pains. It doesn’t look like a good night for sleep because of anxiety. A day of exhaustion to come.

BELLEVUE

MONDAY 15 SEPTEMBER 2008 – 6h30 THIS is going to be a difficult day! There’s a truly beautiful breeze blowing directly in through the window. A warm, strong breeze. I was awake at 4h40 to a magnificent full moon shining in against a blue-black sky and I was gifted with the chance to catch 2 seagulls, way up in the air, flying by the moon! I just need to figure the little details of hygiene and such and I need to get out of here… not soon, but now. The hole is still getting deeper. I’ve got the 55 Book to complete. Then a lovely day on the beach… the beach… the beach… – But for now, Stancil is lying there quietly “bating”. I’ve noticed him doing it before a swell. So why couldn’t it be a younger guy? A more attractive guy? No matter. At least, this morning, I know “my little guy” is still very much alive… and kicking. Yes. It’s stimulating to know, to watch this man having at it under his blanket. Too bad he isn’t having at mine. And to think he’ll be discharged today. – The night shift is leaving. Day shift is on. The yelling in the hall is ridiculous. The staff! And here I sit with nothing to do, no-where to go, no reason to be awake… no reason to be wake… no reason to be awake. – Today is going to be a difficult day, They’re going to pressure me to leave. It’s been, today is 20 days here! 32 days of being homeless. Perhaps today is enough. It’s not getting any better and I’m no closer to figuring anything out. The sky is clearing. Warm breeze blowing, and I’m awake for no reason. – 7h05 The sun is just rising. The day staff is on the floor. Stancil is still working it. And I’m still awake for and with no answers and no reason. – 10h46 IT BEGINS: LITTLE D.O. COME ALONG THE HALL THIS MORNING AND SCREAMS “MR. KESSLER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? I THOUGHT THEY TOLD YOU YOU COULD GO ON FRIDAY!” – So I brought her into the room and asked: How would you feel if somebody handed YOU a list of shelters on a Friday at 4pm and told YOU that you could leave in the rain? The answer? “I would be happy that somebody was giving me information to find a place to go.” Of course you would. No empathy. No sympathy. No concern. But she said she’s worried that I might contract something from a room-mate. Yeah. Right. Me too. So, I politely pointed out that it’s difficult enough that it’s my Mom’s yartzeit and I’ve no-where to go to say Kaddish, and with the fact that I’m being thrown out on one side and told that there’s more being done on the other side (Roseanne giving me the choice to wait for word today) that I’m about ready for a psychotic break. As she left, I closed with “I’ll just finish this by mentioning 257.” The room with the broad who takes full advantage of this place and is down-right abusive and gets away with it. – It’s going to take all of my strength to remain calm in here today. Meanwhile, Debra, my NA du jour, is clowning about in the hall. I asked her earlier to take me downstairs and she said she would when she had the time Well? – Rachel is trying to figure ea way to get a minyan to recite Kaddish for Mama. – Wednesday is supposed to be the coolest night this week. The weather is supposed to be good. Perfect for sting on the beach… – Kleym came by. Told me my labs are perfect, my x-rays ony show the COPD (from cigarettes, of course. Not the subway or anything like that, of course). (It’s 12h09) We talked a little about my situation. I told her of my apprehension of walking out of here without direction and my anxiety attacks. She said “I would have anxiety too if I were you.” The loveliest thing I could hear. Maybe she meant it. I doubt it. But it was nice to hear. Meanwhile, I’ve been reading Tanach all day. The weather is beautiful. No one has come by to take me downstairs. The floor is quiet. Brian is in respiratory distress and scheduled for dialysis. I’ll be on the floor alone. ALONE! Oh, but Kleym asked AGAIN if I don’t’ have friends or family. Again, I told her that I wouldn’t’ be here if I did. My Mother didn’t raise a beggar or an abuser. But… I’m ALONE, ALONE, ALONE, AGAIN. – 14h19 Roseanne acme in all cheerie. “We found a place for you. “ She hands me a post-note. On it is the address for the Shelter Intake Center on E.30th. I could have gone there on my own but Roseanne says “Arlene” is the person who confirmed this. As I write, she, Roseanne, is going to get me a Metro Card to get into The City. I’m looking at a night on the subway. It’s too late to go to Tilden. It would do me no good right now anyway. I’ll take a shower then go. Rozann gave me a 4-dollar card and 2 dollars “for coffee.”
BEACH! GASTON!
END
18h05 On the boards at 121st. The weather? Hot. Breeze. I cold rally take a pee. How odd is this? I’m preoccupied with saying Kaddish for Mama. The sun will be completely gone by the time I get out of services. I’ll have to use the 2 dollars left on the MetroCard to get into The city. But, here I am. Sitting on the board-walk as if the world is fine. I’m numb. Just numb. In some fashion, I can’t believe I’m out here, empty, alone. For some reason I keep thinking “Bradshaw”. What keeps me from going to him? Pride? Guilt? Fear? Why him? When I left Peninsula, I went down 54th. Plenty of places to hid-out for the night. Do I dare? I don’t’ know. I just don’t know. I tossed my letter to Cyndi in the jar, into the waves. I BEGGED the heavens for help. Is Bradshaw the answer? Why. – No. – Don’t ask that question. – One bar of power on the hone and 22 dollars in time. If I had the power, I have the time to call some-one. But who? I took the bus here. I sat on the bus in some numb, dead silence. My brain has left me. it won’t accept this. Clouds are coming in from the west. The beach is almost empty. Lufthansa just banked out over the ocean heading east. What am I going to do? The world has gone so closed-in and yet so wide open. Ships on the horizon. Why couldn’t I be on one of them? I’m not “afraid” right now. Numb. Sick to my stomach. It’s so very quiet. The sun is burning a bright strip at the water. It’s actually quite beautiful. Maybe, if I’m honest about all of this at service there will be some glimmer of hope. Why do I even think of hope any more? I’m wearing my kippa. Rachel says it will bring me luck. Another Lufthansa. the waves are only whispering. People are strolling by. Hey. My arms are still rather tan. So? As of now, I’ll mention my situation at service. If nothing; The city shelter. If good. OK. If not? Tilden tomorrow. Buy a charger for the phone. Maybe I’ll actually try B. What the fk? There’s nothing left to lose anymore. Even rejection can’t be bad any more. – Recapping on Tue. – Never got to do that so I’m recapping on Wed. 17 at 12h27 at Tribute Park: So, I made it to Mincha/Maariv services and the prayers were said in such a low voice that I could barely follow. But Kaddish was said for Mama. I am relieved, happy and proud. May it be the one to bring Mama the glory she so deserves. Service was over and done with such rapidity that it felt like a train-wreck. And no rabbi. But before service, I spoke with an older man show was born and raised in the Catskills! Ferndale! We spoke of Sullivan County of old. it was a delight. And after, the cantor (?) came to say “It’s good to see you.” She should only know the pain in my heart at that moment. My new congregation! I’m being torn away! Well, there was no hope to be found there this evening so, quite hopelessly, I walked to 116th, boarded the shuttle. The sun was just below the horizon and the sky-line over the bay was brilliant red-orange. I left a note on the train “begging” god’s help. In my stunned silence on the shuttle, my heart screamed to be taken out of this misery, for intervention, to stop the Hell. It didn’t do me any good. I took the A to Broadway Junction where I realized I can take the L to Union Square for the 6 to 28th! Standing on the L platform I was treated to a glorious full moon! But too, a full moon and I was heading for the shelter! I got on the L, caught the 6 and walked across 24th, past Zuri’s. How strange. I lived there once upon a time. Now, I live no-where and reside every-where. Some-where on my walk I shut down mentally. The protection my mind has developed from so many years of terror and abuse. Admitting to myself what I was about to do would have proven horrible terror. My brain blocked all but the fact that I was in The City. I just walked in the darkness of night. And there it was! A narrow walk-way between a grand old brick building and a construction site. A dark, fenced—in, wooden walk-way, leading to the back of the brick building. More darkness, inside me and around me now. I focused on nothing and kept walking… just kept walking… just kept waling. A court yard. Men. Smoking. Casually dressed. Guards, dim lights. But the men, mostly Black and Latino, weren’t fighting. It wasn’t at all violent. It most certainly wasn’t welcoming, but I didn’t sense any danger. I walked in the smaller door to the side of the main entrance. Stark. Dirty. In need of fresh paint. A sign: “Welcome to the E.30th Street Men’s Shelter. NYC DHS (Department of Homeless Services)”. It was to become “official” now. I’m “Homeless”! And I’m heading into the “Shelter System”! I was confused. But I was also under the impression that someone names “Arlene” would have noted my impending arrival s, maybe it would be a little more pleasant, once inside. And, I thought, if it’s truly a horror, I’ll just walk out and head for the A train and maybe the beach. I didn’t have to stay. I didn’t have to be pulled into this. I was still free to choose. I walked through the metal detector. It alarmed. I continued. Back-pack and hoodie through the x-ray. Wand over front. Turn. Wand over back. The “Go ahead”. To where? Down the hall to the lady at the desk… a block away. Turn left. Down the cavernous hall to the desk. Sign the sheet, last 4 digits of my social security number. She handed me a flimsy black trash bag. In it were two small brown paper bags. Each, I found, contained: an apple, pint of milk, plastic container of orange juice, small snack-size white cheddar popcorn, baked cheese crackers (fish) and turkey on hamburger roll. (While I sat waiting, I drank both juices, at 1 each, popcorn and cheese fish and watched the other men toss the milk into a galvanized garbage can! The waste! Food! Disgusting!) There were 6 of us in the waiting area. BUT, BEFORE getting to the waiting area, the lady at the desk, pleasantly instructed me to go down a set of granite steps to what resembled a hotel check-in desk. The man there politely asked for photo ID and social security card. I was comforted b the request. It was more “controlled” than simply letting people wander in. He filled-in some form, handed me a purple index card, time stamped, on which he wrote my name, social security number and something that looks like “14RMS” “Upstairs to room 42”. What? “Up the stairs, to the left. Wait in the room. Somebody will call your name.” “Thank you. I’ve never done this before.” Again, 5 of us in the room. Me? The only “White” and I was still wearing my kippa. A young, Black kid who said he’d come in from Long Island. An older man with dreads. A well-dressed man with a pieces of brand new luggage. A well-spoken man who was referred by Re-hab. A man who seemed to know the system. I looked at my card: 9:11 (21h11). We waited. We waited a bit longer. Then, we waited a bit more. Finally! Called. A squat little Black man with an Africanish accent instructs me to follow him. I do, wondering if my “file” is there already. “Sit.” He says. Not “please”. Not “Mr. Kessler”. Simply “Sit.” (14h05 Seaside Library… continuing recap)His name is “Shockeye”. Fitting. Ill-tempered and blatantly anti-Semitic. “Jews run the government with all their money” said the man who typed the comment about me being homeless, jobless and looking for a place to “leave” (instead of “live”). “Yes,” I replied, “And all Black people are on Welfare.” “Your last address.” As I spoke, he typed, one finger with delayed hunt-and-peck. House number: 158 Beach, street name: 116th Street, city: Manhattan. “I believe it should read ‘Beach 116th Street’ and ‘Queens’” I offered. “I will ask the questions and you will answer.” I simply shut down and shut up. The address was rejected as not found. I said nothing. Next, across the room. Finger-print and photo. I’m a file now. But NOTHING about or from Peninsula and no “Arlene”. Click. Flash. Back to Shockeye who had to find someone to correct some errors he had made on some hand-written forms! Imbecile! Oh, and by the way: Father’s last name: Kessler. Father’s first name: David. Penelope said to re-invent me. OK. I will. Half-steps. David Kessler would have been a better spouse and parent. But David’s Hebrew nick-name simply fits: Dudu. “Thank you for your patience.” says Shockeye. I say nothing. It wasn’t a question. He repeats the statement. I repeat my silence. I am returned to the waiting area. It’s almost midnight. There are more men waiting. Suddenly, another roll call. 3 men out for moments. They return with yellow forms. They’re going to Ward’s Island! I don’t want to go to Ward’s Island! A Black man is telling dread-locks that he’s hoping for E. 3rd street. Dreadlocks doesn’t quite grasp Ward’s Island. The E.3rd says “Island. A body of land surrounded by water.” It breaks the ice. The 3 to Ward’s are gone. Dreads gets called. I should be next. So I am. I’m given, by Shockeye, a yellow form. A bed, for the night, right there! No travelling! OK. Bed number A57. “Second floor.” says Shockeye. I am dismissed with form. It reads “One night”. It gives a combination for a lock. It does not tell me how to find it. On the second floor I find a lone desk. In the caverns, by the stairs, a lone Black woman at a lone desk in what may have been quite beautiful surroundings at one time (for moments following construction). Pleasantly, she directed me. I was relieved and appreciative of her kindness. Onward, still thinking “At any moment I can still go for the beach.” The room. Closed door. Solid, no window. I open it. Dreads is in there! Sht! The bed number is written on the wall above the metal-frame-and-spring. Plastic mattress. Plastic pillow. The locker is the size of a chest of drawers. One large compartment on the right. 3 shelves on the left. A bag of linens and a little white plastic bag of toiletries inside. The “gift bag” cinched my appreciation of the farce. I made the bed. I put the pillow case on the pillow and put me on the mattress, fully dressed. No removal of clothing. I might need to bold during the night. – Through the night we were joined by a young, quiet, Black man and a pierced, rather strung-out White guy who, immediately upon entering, moved his locker! (21h20 at the shelter… waiting again). BANG! It didn’t last for long. But the guy made me a bit nervous. I half-slept, on and off, all through the night, in my clothes, kippa included. – Right or wrong, my heart beats a simple prayer: Those who turned away from me and those who lead me to here, should suffer 10 years for every moment I suffer through this. Amen.

TUE.16 Recapping on Wed.17 21h30 at the Shelter. 7th floor. Waiting. Woke this morning, burning eyes. About 6h30. All was relatively quiet in the room. But in the hall, the place was alive, busy, kicking and yelling. I watches my roommates’ in silence. Strip the bed. Linens in the bag in which they came. I could have showered but was in no mood. I wanted out. OUT! As I write this, I can’t recall how I learned it, but I knew I needed to be back by 22h. OK. Out the door! Just out! No cigarettes. But dreads needed a light. I swapped. He gave me a broken Marlboro menthol. I took it and left the building. Stopped at Duane Reade on 28th. A pack of Camel Lights at LONG last! COPD? Emphysema? Good. Kill me! At the corner I stopped to enjoy a smoke. – By back pack is so heavy these days. My legs don’t want to hold me and it. I descended the step, wobbling. Feet, ankles, calves, thighs all painful. But I wanted to get out to The Peninsula. I wanted to get to Tilden. I wanted to work on my sketch=book. I wanted to get back to The Peninsula! I put 4 dollars on the MetroCard and I was on the rails: 6 to L to A to AIR and OCEAN! – I don’t’ want to be seen on 116th so I took the A to Gaston. Arrived about 10h30 and when I got to 67th street, it was so calm, so quiet! It was life itself. I actually wanted to drop and kiss the side-walk! Truly! Didn’t, of course. But I headed to the bus stop. The sky was hazy. So was I. (Con. 1h32 Thu. 18th Bed 108 – SINGLE BED/ROOM!) The sun was hot when it broke through. I got the Q22 and rode along through the village I’ve come to think of as hoe. It was nothing less than pure delight to be back. Funny. I’d only been gone over-night but it felt like an eternity. My emotions tossed between wanting to go to the beach… forever… and wanting to fight through everything to come back huge. I still can’t quite figure it out in my head or my heart. (Brighton OP Thu. 18.9 at 8h55) – When I got to Tilden, I had some trepidation about how I might be received. There was no telling. Almost 3 weeks have passed since I walked out that gate and in that time, only one phone call. But I resolved to tell the truth, bluntly, and little more. It would be quite telling, the attitude I’d face. Yet, this was Fort Tilden, the place in which I’d “resided” for two weeks, all day and all night. I know this place better than all of them and I had more right to be here than the rest. If the reception was to be miserable, then so be it. I was in no mood to play stupid with anyone. I headed toward T6 where Penelope’s car was parked and the door was open. – I walked in. All was set-up for the exhibit. Radio on. Nobody in sight. Suddenly, from behind me I hear: “You’re not welcome here.” Penelope was in the library. She stood in the door-way with a big smile. She was joking. I wasn’t quite sure. “How are you?” she asked, walking toward me. “Come here.” And she opened her arm, came closer and gave me a hug. I hugged, half-heartedly. Here was a person who, although I knew in my heart, had done all she could for me, to help me to the extent of her ability, in the ling-run, stood by and watched me drop to the depths I’d reached. Five weeks and I’d actually grown bitter, even toward her. “Not good.” Is all I could open with. Truth. Nothing more. I told her the gist of the past 3 weeks. She listened. I said I could use a coffee. She offered to share her de-caf but when I said I’d rather a “real” coffee, she got out the machine and gave me run of the place as had been usual. I asked if T7 was open. She gave me the key. She told me of an installation behind T7 that I should see. I made coffee, went to get fixative in T7. She asked for more details about the past 3 weeks. I gave them, digest/summary. She gave me the latest on Fred and such. She told me that Albert Green had come to the Art Splash reception on Sunday , took a fall, cut his arm. His mother implied that the floor was wet and caused the fall. I told Penelope to be very careful, there were probably looking for a law-suite. She agreed. I volunteered: as his Home Care-giver, I’m in a position to be of great benefit to RAA in a law-suit. Albert was very unsteady on his legs and should not have been about un-guarded. She agreed. I told her that I would welcome the opportunity to be part of a prosecution against Albert, considering how instrumental he and his family are in my current situation. Indeed, I’m actually hoping they try something. It would be my reparation. – Time went along and the conversation flowed as if there’d been no break. Penelope brought me up to date and I, she. – Tommy and Tony arrived as I was finishing spraying fixative on my sketches. (Phase I of “55” completed.) A hand-shake and inquiry about the 3 weeks. He asked about my work. I simply summed it into “They essentially got me fired.” I’ll leave it at that. We’ll see how this affects their views and reception of the Greens. I don’t expect allegiances to me. But, I’ll give them the rope. They’ll either swing or hang with it. – As the day passed, Penelope and I talked. She told me of her experiences and events with Jose. We got to me again. I read her my blurb for “Sketch 55”. It actually agave here goose-bumps. She encouraged me to learn to abandon the inferiority I feel due to my child-hood. She encouraged me to always remember: Living well is the best revenge. She told me that, no matter what I might think, I have great talents, well worth selling. She made me think: My mother invested a great part of her life to ensuring the survival of her children. Destroying myself would be a direct insult to her, her efforts and her memory. I don’t need to come out of this simply for my own, but to show the world my Mother’s success in raising a child of talent and an adult whom many in the world happen to like and admire. And it’s quite true. She promised to nag me about it constantly. – It got to be 16h. As usual, she drove me only to the gate and left me at the bus stop. I don’t suppose her kindness will ever extend further that that. But , in her heart, she means well. She does what she feels she can. No more. No less. We agreed we’d see each-other of Friday. She drove away. – PHC. Brian was glad to see me. Jocelyn had the day off. We talked about last night and I summed up the lot of it by saying :They lied to get me out” and I pointed out how they manipulated it at a time when my social support (he and Jocelyn) were off the floor. He agreed. As we spoke I couldn’t help but think of how difficult he and I are but how we get along. In some strange twist, we’ve become “Friends”. “Friends”. All quite simply. As I got ready to leave, he went to his wallet, sorted-out some bills, folded them and handed them to me. “It’s not much, but at least you’ll have a little something in your pocket.” I didn’t count it then, but it turned-out to be a five and five singles. Here’s a man with medical and financial problems of his own, extending a kindness that surpasses the world. Meanwhile, those of better means with-hold. Life. Existence. Creation. The lesson. The education. “Friends” I accepted his kindness graciously and gratefully. As I left him this evening, my heart was a bit stronger. This had been a day of intense moral support. – I walked up to 59th street A station. The sun was, again, just below the horizon and there was the usual blaze of brilliant red-orange blazing into the coming night sky. I hated leaving The Peninsula even more tonight. But my heart was stronger and my determination to succeed and pass through this all the stronger still. As I crossed the bay I recalled how the sculpture behind T7 had moved me to sit on the back steps and silently weep. A sheet, a dress, 2 burnt logs, some feathers, hundreds of shells. The elements of “my home” in my homelessness. The elements of the place I call “Home” from which I’ve been ripped and to which I will return in better times. I have purpose and determination. I have “Friends” here. – THE NIGHTMARE: I was back at the shelter by 21h. In the “holding tank”, as we refer to “the lounge” on the 7th floor, I finally got to chat with the little fellow who reminds me so much of Schmulik! What a charm! A delight. I didn’t catch his first name. Something of Indian/Paki origins. Family name sounds like “Maddy”. He’s lived in Long Beach, had a condo in Tampa, lost his work there, came back to NY thinking he’d find work. How familiar! He said he’s thinking of journaling his experiences at the shelter. I showed him these, my notes, this, my journal. All the while we spoke, I couldn’t helpt but think of how much I was drawn to him. How could I not be? Schmulik! I have no idea if there could even be a deeper “camaraderie” and I doubt there will be. But, I got the chance to talk with him. When bed assignments came, he got the 7th floor, I got the 2nd. Separation. Alas. Perhaps we’ll meet at some other juncture. In fact, we did, in passing, as the night went along. – I was assigned A127. As Fate would have it, a room with 5 beds and lo! The bed was occupied! And, by some beast of a White man: bug build, long hair, hari on back and shoulders. Nothing I wanted as my enemy! I want NO enemies in this place! So, back to the 7th floor for re-assignment. It was already almost midnight by now. I was exhausted from lack of sleep last night. My back-pack seemed to cut into my shoulders. My feet and legs ached terribly. The guy who assigned me to this bed actually admitted to having made the mistake. I waited for re-assignment. The 4th floor. C65. Five beds. One room-mate. My combination for the locker worked. His did not. I tried all the locks. His combination was useless, but he took it in stride. I gave him my extra set of linens. He thanked me. Told me that he’d had an argument with the Mrs., left her at home to come for the night. He had to be in class by 9h tomorrow. He’s an adult student. He was wearing a suit and black, silk shirt. Ah, the cross-section of the Homeless. – Tonight, I made the bed, removed shirt and shoes, got “comfortable”. Second night. I was falling into place. I removed my kippa. – We were joined by 3others before lights were put out. The room went dark and quiet. We were all exhausted. It must have been close to 1h by now, and we have to be out of the place by 8h. – Tonight I slept… and dreamt!

DREAM
Daniel G. and I were at a club, drinking and dancing. It wasn’t a Gay club, but is wasn’t quite straight. I was sitting on a wall of sorts when he came over and sat on my lap, facing away from me! Playfully, I leaned back, bending, and as I did, he leaned forward and somehow opened my pants and sucked my dk into his mouth! It took me by surprise and I sat up, reaching for his dk as he too, sat up, smiling. He leaned back, essentially lying on top of me. I grabbed his dk and was again surprised: it was as big as mine! I whispered “Oh wow!” and woke up.

WED.17. (It’s 10h42 on Thursday. 18.9. I’m on the boards at Ocean Parkway. I’ve just finished the recap for Tues. The sun is up in a slightly hazy blue sky. A beautiful breeze blowing. It’s calm here. A container-ship is pulling into the harbour. Ah, my first Financial District job: Containership Agency. Inc. 1 Western Union Plaza. Remo Borst and Elliot, AnnRay and Peggy. The WTC hadn’t been quite complete and Battery Park City was being started as “capped land-fill”. But I have catching up to do right now…) WHAT A DAY leading into WHAT A NIGHT! – This morning, a AHOWER and out the door into that strange world of expensive East 30’s. It strikes me how we, the Homeless, reside amidst the affluence of Kips Bay. – This morning, a direct route to the P.O. Back “Home” on the Peninsula. The box wasn’t very full, but the mail in there was all from Beth El! I’m absolutely on the roster now. More to make me feel good about myself. Remembering a comment made by Brian yesterday (You have to invest in yourself). I got a 5 dollar money-order and 2 envelopes. I’ve requested my PPD results. I’ll need them for further job-seeking. I’m “Investing in myself” now. – Off to the Seaside library to catch-up on this journal, check the Voy boards and some e-mails. There was a birthday posting to my Newburgh board on my birthday. How dare they!?!? I’m NOT flattered in the least! No e-mails thought. Dick-heads. Self-serving shts that they are. Anyway, the morning passed. – A trip to Waldbaum’s for “lunch”. HEY! I’m still getting food stamps! I had lunch in Tribute Park and there’s still 184,66 left. I can EAT again! – As I was passing Wendy’s on BCD, a horn toted at me. I turned to see, of all people, David Friend, the physical therapist, at the drive-through window! I stopped to chat. He’s just returning from his honeymoon. He asked how I’m doing. I simply put it off to time-off for a while, told him I’d given-up on Premier and asked if he still had Albert Green. Well! Seems Green’s insurance dumped him! No aide. No therapy. I didn’t say much more on the matter lest my anger and bitterness came out, reiterated my availability for private duty and continued on to lunch. – As I say, then to the library and at about 15h30, on the bus (from 120th and not 116th) to PHC. Brian was in dialysis but I was told I could visit him there. I did. He was having a bad day. Pains in the shoulder-blades, difficulty breathing. (Cont. Thu. 22h02 A108) Complications. I don’t like it. No word on his MRI either. I try to keep his spirits up. He’s happy to see me when I visit and this evening, before I left, he gave me a half of a tuna salad sandwich he had left over. He looks after me. Friend. – At about 19h I grabbed the Q22 to 59th for the trains back to the shelter. It kills me to have to leave the Peninsula. My brain still goes numb when I do. I just can’t handle this yet. Not the reality of it. – Tonight was another night of complete farce. COMPLETE FARCE! Arrival about 21h. Through the metal detector and up to the 7th floor sign-in. Down the hall to the holding room to wait. Lots more guys tonight. No Maddy. But another guy whom I’ve seen, sat beside me to talk. I never did get his name so I’ll refer to him as “N” (nameless?). he’s getting fed-up with the way things are handled around here. But we all get that way, I imagine. Me? I admit, my brain is in denial. I just roll along with it all. There’s nothing else to do. Speak and you cause resentment. Get that and somebody’s going to put the screws to you. I’d rather roll by knowing I have my “options” out there. Anyway, in the course of our talking, he took a look at my sketches and proposed that he and I collaborate on a comic strip for the news papers. He liked the art-work until I told him I’m no so good at drawing people. That’s when he got a little too critical: didn’t like the order in which things were drawn, picked-out things in the sketches that he didn’t care for Me? I let it all go. I know how, why, what is in those sketches. That’s enough for me. So we continued talking until roll-call. That’s when the evening took off: His name wasn’t on the sign-in list. Mine was thought. I got my bed assignment and came to see. 2nd floor. A108. I OPEN THE DOOR TO THE ROOM, IT’S A SINGLE BED! SINGLE ROOM! BUT THERE’S A GUY I NIT! AGAIN! I TELL THE SECURITY GUARD ON THE FLOOR. THE DRAMA COMMENCES… She says I have to get the guy out. I should tell the security guard in the area… I tell her that it happened last night and I’ll take another assignment. She insists the guy needs to go. I tell her he’s got his books and such in the room and he’s sitting on the floor. No good. It has to escalate. I have to go to the administration to have the guy removed. I don’t want to go that route. Just re-assign me like last night. No. I end up being brought to the first floor. A third DHS cop gets involved. He tells the Afrikans on duty and ONE OF THEM SAYS THAT I NEED TO GO IN, MOVE THE GUY’S STUFF, RE-MAKE THE BED WITH MY LINENS AND MOVE IN. DHS COP DOESN’T LIKE THAT BECAUSE IT WILL LEAD TO AN ALTERCATION THAT THEY WILL HAVE TO BREAK-UP. THE AFRIKANS DON’T CARE. OH, PRIOR TO GOING TO THE ADMIN, I’D GONE BACK TO THE 7TH FLOOR TO TELL THE TEAM OF 3 (2 WOMEN, ONE MAN, ALL AFRIKAN) ABOUT THE SITUATION. ONE WOMAN BELTS OUT “SEND THE CLIENT UP HERE!” RIGHT. LIKE I HAVE THAT AUTHORITY! SO, DOWN AT THE ADMIN DESK, THE DHS COP NOTIFIES THE DHS SERGEANT WHO SAYS TO SEND THE ADMIN UP-STAIRS FOR A CONFRONTATION. ADMIN TELLS THE COP TO SEND THE SGT. DOWN! A VERBAL BATTLE COMMENCES VIA MESSENGER AND RADIO. THE NEXT THING I KNOW, THE GUY FROM A108 IS STANDING IN THE HALL WITH HIS JACKET ON AND HIS LUGGAGE! HE’S OUT OF THE ROOM. THE COP WHO WAS TRYING TO HELP ME TAKES MY MEAL TICKET/ASSIGNMENT, TELLS ANOTHER COP TO STAY WITH ME AND DISAPPEARS UP-STAIRS! NOW, I’M WITHOUT MY TICKET WHICH MEANS I’M NO-WHERE AT ALL! I LOOK UP AND THERE STANDS “N”! SEEMS HE GOT ASSIGNED TO AN OCCUPIED BED BUT WHEN HE TRIED TO FIX IT, AN ADMINISTRATOR TORE-UP HIS TICKET AND MADE HIM START ALL OVER AGAIN! THE PLACE HAD GONE INSANE! MEANWHILE (13h28 at T6) ALL I WANTED TO DO IS GET A BED, GET SOME SLEEP. THE DHS COPS WERE IN A BATTLE WITH THE DESK CLERKS. ONE GUARD WAS ASSIGNED TO WATCH ME. I COULDN’T GO ANY-WHERE BECAUSE ANOTHER DHS COP HAD TAKEN MY MEAL TICKET. “N” WAS PISSED OFF. SUDDENLY, A CHANGE OF SHIFT. A TALL, BLACK WOMAN TAKES THE DESK. EVERYTHING CHANGES. SHE TAKES CONTROL, GETS ON THE PHONE. I’M CALLED TO THE DESK. I’M GIVEN THE BED A108. SHE’S GOING TO FIND ANOTHER BED FOR THE PREVIOUS OCCUPANT. SHE CHECKS A LIST, GIVES ME THE COMBINATION TO THE LOCKER. IT’S DONE IN UNDER 5 MINUTES. THE PREVIOUS A108 COMES TO ME TO ASK: WOULD I BE WILLING TO SWAP BEDS WITH HIM SO HE CAN RETURN. HE’S ON MEDS. THEY WERE CHANGED TODAY. HE FELL ASLEEP AND MISSED SIGN-IN. A SECURITY GUARD HEARD HIS REQUEST AND HAD TO TELL HIM SEVERAL TIMES THAT NO, NO SWAPPING. I TRULY DIDN’T WANT TO ANYWAY. – ISSUE SETTLED, I WENT TO MY BED. IT WASN’T 10 MINUTES, PREVIOUS A108 COMES WALKING INTO THE ROOM! “DID I LEAVE ANY NIK-NAKS?’ NO. THE ROOM IS CLEAR. “OK. SORRY TO BOTHER YOU.” HE LEAVES. I TRY TO SETTLE-IN. ABOUT 20 MINUTES LATER, HE’S BACK! AGAIN, WITH THE NIK-NAKS STORY. AT THIS POINT I’M BUGGED AND THINKING HE’LL BE AT THIS SHT ALL NIGHT. I FIRMLY TELL HIM THIS IS THE SECOND TIME HE’S COME IN, I’M TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP. HE APOLOGISES. HIS NAME IS CARLOS. HE WANTS TO BE FRIENDS. HE’S HARMLESS, DOCILE. I DON’T WANT TO BE “FRIENDS” BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE ENEMIES. CARLOS LEAVES, I PUT ON A SET OF SCRUBS. THE DAY IS DONE. I GO TO BED… HOPEFULLY, TO SLEEP A WHILE. IT’S ALMOST 2H! – At some point during all this mayhem, I met Mike, next room. Private. He tells me that I’m now in the “Permanent Wing”. This should be my bed for the duration. I just MUST make sure to sign-in ON TIME, ALL THE TIME! One mistake and I begin again. Oh. I’ve seen how that goes.

THU.18. (still at T6) Construction next door is a perfect alarm. 5h30, they begin. I spelt the few hours and would have liked to sleep and additional few. But I still don’t know when THEY decide we must vacate. So, I threw an instant coffee together in my water bottle and headed across the hall to the shower! What a joy to shower! Bolt back to the room, dress and run for the exit. Today? Brighton to Jackie’s for a 99-cent shirt if possible. To the 99-cent Store for laundry soap. (22h Fri. A108 waiting for a shower) They had NONE! I got 2 white T-shirts at Jackie’s. 99-cents each. Caught the B68 to the 99-cent Store. Got a pillow case to use as the cover for the 55 Sketches. 3 pairs of white socks and a package of disposable razors for tomorrow’s haircut. On the B36 and off to Rockaway. Got in to visit Brian. Kelymenova saw me in the hall and wanted to know why I was there! “To visit a friend!” I told her. As if it was any of her damned business. As I visited, Rachel came by to give me the addresses for Chabad in Rockaway AND the main office on Eastern Parkway. She says I’ll enjoy the one on Eastern Pkwy. They always have something going on there. OK. But the ones (two) in Rockaway? Maybe they’ll be able to connect me to some work! I’m hoping (not strongly, but I’m hoping). I’d gone to Waldbaum’s for my lunch before going to the hospital. A peaceful little lunch in Tribute Park, and I brought 2 boxes of Drakes Cakes for Brian. As I told him, I have no money but I have Food Stamps. I “gift”” with food. – Jocelyn wasn’t on this evening again. I’m sorry. I’m waiting for her reaction to my having been tossed out. So… – I left at about 18h15 and arrived back at the shelter at about 20h. Finally got to talk with Dennis, a really pleasant Black guy from, of all places, Castle hill! He’d been sleeping on the Pelham train for a while before coming to the shelter. He also told me that he’d been having trouble with the administrators but only the Afrikans. Well, come to learn, Shockeye gave him sht too, as do the ones in the main office. When I get out of here, I’d like to see them all deported. They’re just bloody miserable. – So, it turned into a raher other-wise early night. But Mike, next door, get tossed somehow! My connection to answers is gone now. I have to wing it! – Oh. Before I close today: I met a guy from A127 room (where I was assigned to an occupied bed this week). Jewish. Mike. It’s the kippa that’s starting conversations. – While waiting for sign-in this evening I heard Maddy extolling the beauty of Indian women. I guess he’s straight. Oh well. He’s not all that attractive with-out his baseball cap on I learnt. – Tonight the Puerto Ricans in the next room were arguing in the hall. Trash! They should be sent back. – THE BIG NEWS? THIS MORNING I NOTICED A FLOOR PLAN ON THE WALL. “PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL”!!!!! THIS IS THE OLD BELLEVUE! SHT! IT EXPLAINS A WHOLE LOT ABOUT WHY IT LOOKS LIKE A PSYCH HOSPITAL. AND THESE ROOM WERE PROBABLY LOCK-DOWN AT ONE TIME. GIVES ME THE ICKS! (Now to try for Friday’s entry… on Friday night!)

FRI.19 22h32 Still waiting to take a shower. They gave me fresh linens today and they’re brand new! And I got a pillow! I’d made one with the extra linens, but now, tonight, I have a pillow! Figures. I don’t know if I’ll have this room tomorrow. With my Fate? I’ll probably end up in a dorm room of 7 beds. Oh well. I need to get out of here quickly anyway. So, today… I begin at 5h with “Security” banging on the doors to wake us all for breakfast. Some Ubangie came to my door, pulled it open and yelled what sounded like “bread fox!”. Eventually I figured it out. So I tolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Finally, I couldn’t so, out to the shower. (They just did a bed-check! Good thing I’m NOT in the shower! Sht! Whew! But the timing is great: The shts next door have been smoking. I can smell it through the wall or in the window. Toss ‘em!) Anyway. AS I WAS GETTING READY TO LEAVE, THE WOMAN WHO WAS ON THE DESK WEDNESDAY NIGHT WAS HERE ON THE FLOOR AND WHEN I WENT TO THANK HER FOR HER HELP SHE SAID “GOOD-MORNING. HOW AR YOU MR. KESSLER?” SHE REMEMBERED MY NAME! I WANT TO GET HER NAME AND WRITE TO THE PAPERS TO THANK HER! – An inspection is due today so we had to strip the bed. Explains to good linens. But I was on the number 6 train by 7h30 and off to the Rock! – What a joy. What a pleasure to go back there each day. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I have no more car-fare to get back. I’ll need to start pan-handling this week-end! – Got the train to 116th and went to Waldbaum’s for my lunch. Got a Fage for Penelope too. Why not? Eh? George was there! We chatted about smoking the various herbs in the spice aisle. He made yet another reference to chaps. Sht or get off the pot, dear George. I left him and took my groceries to the 53 bus and out to The Fort. – Indeed, Penelope was there. It began as a pleasure to see her but she somehow turned into her ridiculously stupid side, telling me what’s wrong with my life, how, with my talents and intelligence I should be very gainfully employed, making judgmental statements without knowing facts or even taking the time to listen to them! We finally stopped talking (thankfully) and I set-up in the loo and took a HARICUT AND BEARD TRIM AND SHAVE!!! For the hair, I used a little craft scissor. It did the job well enough! – Had my cheese on a roll, microwaved, a yoghurt, 2 puddings and coffee. – 23h13 I GOT MY SHOWER! FOR THE FIRST TIME IN I CAN’T RECALL HOW LONG, I GOT TO BED CLEAN! THE FLORO’S GONE QUIET. I WISH I COULD HAVE A SMOKE. I’M HAPPY AS SHT I HAVE AN EXTRA BLANKET. IT’S 23,5 DEGREES IN HERE BUT I WAS CHILLED AFTER THE SHOWER. A SHOWER! NOW, LET’S HOPE FOR SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT. – To finish a journal for to-day: Shirl came by The Fort to work on her sculpture. We talked very nicely indeed. She missed me Sunday, Art Splash. We talked about becoming famous for our art. Then she said something most kind: “You’ve already lost more… Nope… not day, Thurs. This is Friday. Oh, right. So is this. I’m trying to catch-up with this at 10h15 on Saturday at T6. I’m too pre-occupied or tired or what-ever. So, let me go on to Saturday. Just to close Friday: WHAT A MAGNIFICENT HIGHT’S SLEEP! I was starving. But, I slept.

SAT.20 10h17 at T6: Thirty-seven days of Homelessness and day six at the shelter. The sign on the door says that we must be out of the room MONDAY THRU FRIDAY FROM 8:00 TO 4:00. It stays nothing about Saturday and Sunday. But it was so unusually quiet this morning. I’ve risked making the bed and leaving the “essentials” in the locker. Ochiaga said I can meet with her today after 16h. So I’ll be back well before sign-in and what-ever. So now I have one plastic bag in tow. – The trains are running horribly! 37 minutes between L! I’ll be leaving here to give my-self time. – Stopped at KeyFood for some lunch cheese, rolls. Got 2 frozen, 9-slice pizzas to leave in the T6 freezer for the folks. Food stamps. – Penelope’s in a snit. Sweeping and pretty much ignoring me. She didn’t eat the yoghurt I bought for her yesterday. It’s still in the fridge. Oh well. – 10h58 I helped, a very little, moving a table and chairs with Geoff. He was pleasant, but, a comment mad eon his way out the door: “I’ll be back to talk with you in a little while…” has me troubled, considering Penelope set up her sculpting and left about 30 minutes ago. She’s blatantly not speaking to or with me today. I wonder, I wonder what’s coming now. I’m sitting here, alone. – 13h58 Time to go. The sky is beautifully blue. The sun is wonderfully warm. The slightest breeze. A perfect Rockaway day… Cut short. And I’ve been ignored through it all. But I got my Brighton bag and re-inked it. 3 coats of fixative. So? – 2 cheese sandwiches. 2 puddings. I’m bringing 2 PopTarts back. It’s going to be some kind of evening… I fear. Well. Madame Atheros gets her Monday alone. I NEED TO GET MOVING AND GET MY LIFE! – 21h11 A108 I left T6 out the back gate, silently, walked behind T4 and out the gate to the bus. That’s it. That’s all. In silence. I had nothing to say to anybody. Geoff never did come back to talk. I’m just as glad. I had nothing to say anyway. (Damned Ricans are at it again. Yelling in the hall-way.) So the 22 driver was familiar. Nice guy. We talked about the “other end” of the line. Made for a good trip. When I got off at B67th I heard a big “Hello!” Debra! The HHA from Premier whom I’d met months ago! We got to talking. I told her the truth about my present situation. She gave me her home number and told me that if it gets really bad and I consider going back to the beach to call her. “I have a big apartment and you can sleep on a spot on the floor before you go back to the beach.” Imagine? Hey! Maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t mean it. But she didn’t have to give me her number! I was in need of good people after the brush-off at RAA. – dozed on the trains back to the shelter. It was hot on the A and I was a bit sweaty. Something I can’t afford. But I’ve got my flip-flops (green) and bathing trunks with me. I re-inked the Brighton bag. So, laundry day is coming! – Got to the shelter at 17h. I’d cut out of RAA at 14h30. No queue to speak of getting in. Went directly up to the 7th floor to find my case-worker. Well! There’s a reason her name is Peace Ochiaga. “Peace” indeed! She listened to me. She spoke with me. She respected me. She preserved my dignity. She told me that she didn’t take her job here for the money but because, if she can help even one person’s life, it makes her happy and that’s why she’s come. She told me stories of previous clients. She’s a God-fearing woman. She suggested trying for porters’ jobs in Jewish schools and such. When she asked how I became homeless, I told her. Then I told her that the agency won’t assign me cases because I have no perm. address. She was taken. “It’s their fault to begin with! You see? No responsibility.” When she asked what my pay was, I told her. She was actually angered. “They abuse you! How can they do that and get away with it? You are worth so much more! The are abusing you!” Dignity. All about dignity. She was another God-send, and with what came after the Intake interview, Debra and Peace were necessary. – By the way… A108 has become my “Permanent” bed. Of course, that doesn’t’ mean much, so I learnt. THEY SHIPPED DENNIS OUT TO BROOKLYN THIS EVENING! As I was leaving Ms. Ochiaga, walking past “the lounge” I heard “JUDAH!” Dennis called me. (Oh, and while I was sitting in Mrs. O’s office, Maddy came past. “I’m looking for the Jewish missionary’s office.” I joked in a Yiddish accent.) Anyway, when my interview was done, I went into the lounge. I was still carrying my back-pack and such. Dennis reaches out, shakes my hand and tells me that he’d gone out this morning and when he returned, there was a note on his bed to report to “Operations”. He was being transferred immediately! When he commented on it, they told him that he only had 21 days here anyway. When he said he’d only been here about 8 (I think) they just told him that they found him something quicker. SHOVED OUT. LAST MINUTED. ON A SATURDAY! Ah, like PHC! We’re not “people”. We’re just some sht they get to play with! So, I heard this, told him to give me a moment, came down to put my pack away, have a smoke and a drink of much-needed water. When I got back up to 7, he was on his way out! Forbell Street. The Grant St. station on the A! Out a the Queens border! Close to Rockaway! He asked me to walk with him to the Nr.6 train. I gave him my directions to Queens (6-l-A) instead of what they’d given him (6-4/5-A or something like that). On the way, he gave me a cigarette, told me he’d had some really miserable notions about Jews until meeting me. (It looks like I’m becoming the good-will ambassador for world Jewry here!) Rachel said “Wear the kippa. It will bring you good luck.” Well, I dopn’t know about the luck but it’s certainly changing attitudes.) I gave him a swipe on my MetroCard so he didn’t have to use the fare on his. He gave me his cell number. I gave him mine. He said he’ll keep in touch and as the train pulled in, we shook hands and he said “I’m gonna miss you brother.” One of the things he wants out of life is to win the Lottery, buy a building and use it for a shelter for homeless men like us. I pray he gets his dream. He said he’ll call to let me know how Forbell is. I’m going to give him a call tomorrow on my way to Rockaway. Maybe I can meet him, we’ll stop at Waldbaum’s and I’ll take him to Tilden for “lunch”. How fkng “chic”. – Well, it’s 22h01. I’ve showered. This journal is up to date. I’m going to try for some sleep tonight. Ah… if only I had clean clothes at this point. Well, more motivation to get a “life” and stop this “existence”. – 22h20 The door opens. The door closes. Bed check. Bloody Ricans slamming doors and making noise in the halls! Trash bastards. I’m going for lights out!

SUN:21. About 11h Backyard T7 Good night’s sleep. Up. Shower. Out. Rang Dennis. No answer. Left msg. Got the train. Rang him at Bwy.Jct. Wanted to bring him out to the Fort, show him where I “lived”. I’m a bit disappointed. But, maybe there’s a good reason why we didn’t connect. I just hope he’s not back on the trains. – P. and G. are being civil. No indication of animosity. – I ate a cheese sandwich and 2 puddings. – The sun feels good. The breeze is great. I need to wash my clothes. – 21h30 JUST WHEN YOU BELIEVE ALL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE, ALONG COMES EVEN MORE!!! W. BENJAMIN IS IN HOSPICE. CA/SPINE! MY ADP ACCOUNT WON’T BUY A PACK OF CIGARETTES TONIGHT! MY METROCARD EXPIRES TUESDAY! A HUGE BLISTER ON MY LEFT FOOT BROKE JUST NOW WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER! Oh, Dennis never called. OK? OK then. But I met Debra at the 20/20 Market on 59th. What a charmer she is. Hugs and all. Was going to wait for me to come out of the market to make sure I got in and out OK. AND ONE OF MY BOTTOM-FRONT TEETH IS A BIT BAD. I’m exhausted. Went to x-ray with Brain today and I brought him back to his room! – It’s warm in here tonight. It’s noisy in the hall. The wall by the bed is a sub-divide, board-not-plaster and the scum in the room next are smoking in there. I can smell it. Tough times are here again. 21h42, the scum next door are yelling and slamming doors and such. My eyes burn. My foot burns. The wall is moving because of the sht next door! I need sleep!

MON:22 7h02 Waiting for the shower. Miserable sleep last night. Woke at about midnight and could fall back to sleep all night. Drenched from sweat at one point. Just anxiety and panic. No money. No travel. My PPD results will come in the mail and I won’t be able to get them! Job? How? It all just keeps compounding! I can’t walk great distances now because of my blistered foot. I’ve got a 5 US and a 5 Canadian. 60-cents in change. Clothes are filthy! Blood on the sheets from mosquito bites. If I can’t get to RAA and Penelope, I can’t charge the cell phone. I wonder what evil I’ve committed to be so deserving of this situation. Well, one thing is for certain: kippa or no, it’s my survival first! From now on. The Hebrew people fought, destroyed, killed, lied for survival. Today? MY TURN! – 18h15 on the shuttle at B116. A heavy day. A very heavy day. I stopped at Waldbaum’s this morning. 2 yoghurts, Starbuck’s and a box of Ring Dings for Brian. Off to The Fort for a silent treatment from Penelope and empty donation jars! OK. I asked P. if she was pissed with me. “100 per-cent.” was her reply and all because she detected an attitude from me yesterday about my having made coffee! – 21h11 A108 Dead tired. The day has gotten to me. The shelter is getting to me. But! I’m showered before bed (the only normalcy – shower before bed – in my existence). So I should focus on that first step to a “Return”. Meanwhile… I spoke with Penelope on the matter told her that, of all the people I have in my life these days, I don’t want to lose here to some argument that can be settled. Truth? Well, if it’s so friggin easy for her to get pissed and shut me out, I don’t need HER wither. But for now, just for now, I’ll try to keep some peace. So, that settled, I had my breakfast… in a lot of silence. – I ALMOST FORGOT TO NOTE: THE PPD’S WERE HERE THIS MORNING! FOR SCHITZENGIGGLES I STOPPED AT THE P.O. AND THERE THEY WERE! POST MARKED THE 19TH! NOW I CAN GO TO EVERY AGENCY AND HOME ON THE PENINSULA… NOW I NEED CARFARE! BUT I’VE GOT “MY PAPERS” NOW! – OK. So Tommy comes by T6 and leaves. By noon I left too. But not before grabbing 4 cigarettes from Penelope’s pack. Hey! I was going to go for the whole pack. I’m still not THAT miserable yet thought. I headed to 148th to find Chabad. Why? I figure I’ll tell them I’m available to work. Maybe they can and maybe they can’t help. Well, they don’t have an actual centre. The Rebbe, Lev Osbo… OK… Osdoba, a young man, directs Belle Harbor Torah Inst. And has “Chabad” in his home. I was most warmly welcome. We talked. He asked if I’m looking to rent (basement). Of course I said I’m interested but the 600 dollars base rent didn’t set well with him. Oh well. Too bad. However, he did invite me to services at the “stiebel” on 137th. So… So what-ever. – Left there. It was still rather early so I decided to bring my PPD report to Extra Care. TIMING!!! The Nurse-Director was there! She signed-off on my file! Ms. Thomas gave me the W4 to complete. She wanted me to return with a photo (the HHA’s supply their own photo for ID. Cheap-ass agency, but I gave her one of my passport photos. My ID is done! The paper work is done! I’m employed by Extra Care now! They even took the RPH address! I’m on my way back already. SLOWLY. Sure. But what the fk? Eh? (21h33 and the scum next door is at it, pounding, yelling. Reasons to get the fk out of here!) – Moving along… it was too late to hit Far Rock at this point and the sky was clouding so I opted for my stop-over at PHC. A downhill slide… Brian was in dialysis HAVING A NEW LINE INSERTED so I wasn’t allowed in. I went up to Hospice on 3 to visit W. Benjamin. No name on room 337! The nurse told me he died this morning! Unexpectedly! So now, Benjamin is no longer viable, Zami is in Brooklyn, my private duties are gone! I have nothing appropriate to wear to a shiva call. Life shows me my sht worth again. If this is Karma, I REALLY want to know what I’ve done to deserve THIS SHT! But the nurse was kind and we chatted and I’m thinking of trying for a spot on the Hospice unit. PHC is thinking of turning 2N (of ALL units!) to Hospice. What the hell? When I get the CAN I’ll give it a try. Or even before, for Schitzengiggles. I went back down to see Brian. Kleymenova won’t let up on the nosy bullsht. “What’s going on?” she asked when I got to the floor. “Visiting.” I said without stopping. I spent about an hour with Brian. He’s in a took, he dozed. I left. He’d be on dialysis until 19h anyway. It was about 16h at that point. – The Q22 to 119th. Library! Internet! Barbara! Old times. I got EVERY e-mail account and EVERY “voy” board. Interestingly enough, not one e-mail or post to or about me. Dead. Gone. Forgotten. Finished. And Peace Ocghiaga thinks I’m “empty” without people. Ah-hah. Well! So what? I hit it all and left at the end of my computer time. Barbara had left while I was on-line. – To Waldbaum’s. (Oh. 3,60 dollars left to my name on the ADP card! Fking broke now!) 2 pkgs. 70-cent turkey, a “PMR” roll, a box of PopTarts (I just finished the last pkg. as I journal), chocolate milk and a quite dinner in Tribute Park. I hope I can have another tomorrow evening since my MetroCard expires tomorrow and that means no more Rockaway for a while unless this shelter can do something for me. We’ll see. I won’t expect it. I put in a last call to Dennis: on the trains? – Before the horizon went red, I left for the shuttle. The day was done. – As I came in here this evening (I got the 15 bus from 14th and 1st. It didn’t save time but it dropped me off almost at the entrance to this asylum), the guard yelled “meal ticket and ID” at us. I come in, put my ticket and ID on the x-ray, back-pack and sweat-shirt in to scan, position for metal detection and one security guard, Black male moron says to me: “Where’s your ticket and ID sir?” as I’m being wanded. I reach to the x-ray machine to hand them to him and he barks “They don’t do me no good over there!” I didn’t dignify it with a reaction. He took his time looking at the documents. I believe I disappointed him by not even blinking. Useless dreg (like the spics in the hall-way now at 22h06). – So, I speak with no-one lately. This room seems to be sucking cigarette smoke from some-where all the time. That and mosquitoes. – My major concern is laundry and having no jacket. It’s getting chilly these days. But right now, in spite of the Rican sht conference in the hall, I’m going to try for SOME sleep now.

TUE.23 21h34 A108
I’m tired. I want a shower. I want a smoke. I want to get to sleep. I can’t. I’m waiting for Peace Ochiaga to come off her break. I spent over and hour looking for her from 20-21h. Couldn’t find her. When she finally appears at 21h30 she tells me she’s on break! I want carfare for tomorrow! Rockaway Health took my application papers today, will do finger-prints and orientation tomorrow. I need to be there by 13h. I’m entitled to carfare and damn it, I want it! I haven’t eaten anything here. I’ve used 3 sets of linens and some toiletries. So, I want the carfare! – I was on the train already at 8h. Stopped at T6 and offered to buy a pack of cigarettes from Penelope for 5 dollars since she pays only 2,75 plus shipping. She wouldn’t do it. Rather, she chose to offer me cigarettes from her pack and to tell me that I owe her a carton. How charming is she? How typical. Anyway, I left at about 10h30 and went out to JCCRP. Leetha made 4 copies of my PPD report… FREE! We apoke about the shelter and such. She said she was doing well. I said I was doing better. I spoke with Srully about the anti-Semitism here. I left, armed with my PPD report and went to Rockaway Home Care. – Carol Haynes, Recruitment Mgr, took me in, gave me some forms, took copies of what I had (certificates, passport, etc.), a photo and the next thing I know, I’m to report tomorrow for orientation! Hey! Of course, I have to come up with 3 references again. I have to do that before the orientation. And right now I’m exhausted and it’s 21h57. Time to go back up to the 7th floor. – 22h28 I got the voucher for carfare. I have to get the MetroCard in the morning at 7h. P.O. wasn’t very friendly but she did encourage me to keep going for more money. Well, of course I will. – As I waited for her to “appear” (from the office across the hall from where she should have been) some young guy showed up looking for her. He was sweet and took a place behind me to wait. BUT “Miss Peace” said that HE had come to her before I did and so she took him before me. Truth? I’d been looking for her since 20h but no sense in arguing. The mentality around here makes it futile. Suffice, I’ll get carfare to “home” tomorrow. Let very LUCRATIVE WORK FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY. – I’M NOT GOING TO SHOWER NOW. Too damned tired! (Wed. A at Euclid to F.R.) After the agency I went walking to find Brenda’s agency on New Haven. Unless there’s something I missed, New Haven only goes down to 19th St. and the address is 15-26 on the ave. SO I got on the 22 to PHC. Arrived about 14h or so. Brian in better spirits and condition. I was in teal scrubs and learned that precious few pay attention and look past the scrubs. I got away with bringing Brian back to his room. His room-mate spilled water, I cleaned it up! We joked about me being on the payroll for all the work I do there. It’s not really funny at all. – I got to chat with Rozann for a moment. Told her of the miseries of being in the shelter. She feigned some kind of compassion but is was obvious she has none. Hers is a job… nothing more. – When I told Brian that I’m hoping to get carfare for tomorrow from the shelter, he gave me 5 singles, 4 quarters. Again, he said “We never know when it could be us and when we can, we should help.” I owe HIM more than anyone can imagine. I WORKED for Margot and had to gravel for everything. Now, I’m meeting people who do, as I’ve always done, simply because they can. This is the world. – Leaving Rockaway today was painful. Not knowing when I’ll return or how. It actually hurts. My bitterness increases terribly. – Spoke with Dennis as I crossed 28th Street. He suggested we get together on Saturday in Rockaway. I need to get the carfare for it! I deserve to have a good day away with somebody “real”. RAA is sht. Geoff and Penelope were talking about a guy who was interested in joining this month. 25 dollars until December and another 25 dollars in January. The “annual” is the calendar year. Geoff said “Even if you’re on Welfare, that 25 dollars isn’t going to break you! And if it’s that much to you, we don’t need you as a member.” No. They don’t need me as a member. But while I am, they can deal with me shoving my realities at them. Let them face me, my situation, the people I’m meeting now. Self-serving, delusional dik-heads who believe “RAA” is actually important. Nepotistic idiots. A day with Dennis will be a delight… even only on a platonic level. – I move along here…

WED.24 11h22 A TRAIN GASTON! I got on the Nr.6 at 28th at 10h06. Hazy sun-shine on the sea. It’s so good to be HOME this morning! It’s best that I’m away from the shelter and The City. But, I’m starving! Good that I have time to grab something somewhere to eat. I just need to find a place to eat it out in Far Rock. (12h45 at Rockaway Home Care) Spent about 45 minutes on-line at the Far Rock library! Must remember that they give more time there. Didn’t get to eat and worse, could use a BM. But I’ve made it for orientation… early. Good. Good. – Meanwhile, this morning’s events: Didn’t want to get out of bed. So tired. But by 6h30, was showered and ready to toll. 7h at the “office” where we sign-in in the evening. That’s the time and place I was told to be by Peace Ochiaga (P.O.) At 8h30 I was STILL there! At about 8h45 I got in and the nice lady told me to go down the hall to the office noted “Carfare”. Down the hall to a truly soft-spoken, delightful woman who took my voucher and handed me four dollars in cash. It was well after 9h by now. I bolted to my room, grabbed back-pack and Brighton bag and down the stairs. Daniel (so is the name of the guy who’d gotten his papers torn-up the evening I got A108 ) was standing in the court-yard. We got to talking and walking. He walked me to the train. From him I learned: physical and psych take one day each. I need to get to Ochiaga by Friday to keep my bed. He’s waiting for re-assignment and housing. He’s a Vet. He gave me a cigarette too! Says he’ll drop by my room tonight after 22h. At the rate I’m fading, I’ll be asleep by then. Maybe he’ll be too. Right now it’s an effort to keep my eyes open. Ah, to sleep under the stars again… to SLEEP… SLEEP! SLEEP! Not yet. Not now. Soon. But for now, I hope they’ll get on with orient…… I have no idea idea about im… I have no idea what I was just writing. I’m dozing off sitting here and there there are 3 others come in. Must wake up! It’s already 13h08. (Approx. 16h45 A at Mott) Orientation and finger printing done. In-service tomorrow 9h-13h! I was going to try for the medical and psych at the shelter tomorrow! But a job is much more important AND Rockaway has LIVE-IN! I could get out of the shelter that much sooner and on with the general life. I just need to get my car-fare tonight. If so, I’ll go for In-service tomorrow morning. I’ll have to be on the train by 7h though. I can do that. – Not taking time to eat. PopTarts in the room at this point. But I have my cigarettes now. The little things matter so much. – Orientation was truly informative. I give them that. – I notice that I’m smelling “homeless”. That dusty odour from un-washed clothes. I need to attend to that. If only I had the confidence to ask P.O. Then again, I MUST see her this evening for car-fare again. We’ll see. Too bad I probably won’t make it to dinner at the shelter. A new experience. – People are boarding the train. Let’s get this over with. I need sleep. – (22h26 A108 ) Blue scrubs bottoms washed and hanging in the window. I shredded a plastic bag, put it across the window. Tenement sht that I am now. A pair of socks and the hospital socks are hanging on the bed frame. Laundry. I’m in my bathing trunks, indeed. When I came in this evening, Mike, my first or second room-mate (2nd I believe. He came in wearing a suit. His combination didn’t work.) told me that there’s a basin in the shower room on the 6th floor and he’s been doing his laundry there. Told me I should come up to do mine. When I finally do my jeans that’s where I’ll go. I just need a place to hang the wash. – So I got back about 18h and saw Peace O. She was a delight this evening. Very chatty and engaging. Real or psychotic? No telling. But appreciated. I came to the room, finished off 8 PopTarts, went back upstairs… nope… washed the scrubs bottoms, hung them in the locker then went out for a smoke and upstairs to sign-in. Car-fare at 21h30. Back down-stairs to wash sox. Back up-stairs to a pleasant Mr. Brown. 4 dollars car-fare! I’m going to try for In-service tomorrow. No sense fking around at this point. Back down-stairs to hang the scrubs in the window. – No sign of Daniel. I’m glad. – I’m developing a cough. That tickle in the throat cough. I need sleep! – The guard on the 2nd floor this evening is Greek! She and I spoke a bit. – 2 Haitians on the 7th floor were speaking French. – Mike passed me up-stairs. Hand on my shoulder. – It’s good to know people… for many reason. But I’ve met more wonderful people in here. Truly. – 22h42 Time for lights- out. No shower tonight. I’m exhausted! – (21h59 on Thursday) Twice during the night somebody came by, opened the door and let it slam. One of them might have been Daniel. I needed to get my sleep so I didn’t budge.

THU.25 22h02 I really need to get some sleep tonight! It’s RAINING! And I hear it’s supposed to rain all through the week-end! So much for hanging with Dennis. Isn’t life just strange? I was looking forward to it. Well, once again: there’s a reason. As it is, I’m showered, extra blanket on the bed, sox, under-shorts and a T-shirt washed and hanging in the window. The hall is quiet. I’ve got nothing to complain about… I suppose. As for the day? It began at 5h30. I didn’t want to get up but the in-service was being given. I went! Quick shower and out the door. On the 6 by 6h50 and at Mott b y 8h30! Figures. Early. So I went to Associated for a large jar of Bustello instant (yay1) a bag of rolls, jar of peanut butter, bottle of honey, box of PopTarts and some Little Debbie pastries. 19 dollars! My Food Stamps are down to 81 dollars until the 10th of October. But I wont need coffee for a while. – The In-service was tedious, boring and covered 2 topics I just did in April for my certification. But it turns out for the very best: RHAS scheduled my physical for today! Once tat’s passed, I’m eligible for work! Here’s hoping for a nice live-in spot… immediately… in Belle Harbor or Neponsit. Although Seagirt atB.20 is very lovely too. Anyway, on the break during In-service, I stopped up at JCCRP to tell Leetha (I think that’s her name) the news about RHAS. She was in the pantry but took a few moments to talk with me. And she gave me a little bag of lotions, soaps, shampoo, etc. Somebody gave them to the pantry. They’re from Hampton Inn, Biltmore, etc. Great stuff! Smells so clean! She also handed me a little pamphlet on the word of God and Jesus. (It only just hit me now, at 22h21: Jesus? At JCCRP? Oh well.) And so, I returned to the tedium of In-service… almost nodding off. – That done, the walk down B.20 to Seagirt to the clinic for UR and blood. Oh, and a general physical where the doctor told me my BP is 90/60 (which is what it was almost every day at PHC), my weight is 163 (hey!) and I have asthma (left lung, lower). Duh. Off I go, back up B.20 (admiring the area: Russian and Hebrew and a LOT of Blacks) to the Far Rock library. A couple of posting to the Newburgh voy, a cross ref. to a posting on 1966Brokenwaves, Google search for me, one for this shelter (Argile Sox wrote about it in a book in 2006. I want to read that book!). No e-mails at all. Dead or not, I’m dead. JK is dead an living in Kips Bay… in a shelter for homeless me who now call the old Bellevue Psych lock-down their home. OK. I’m dead. I get the point. Time to move on, move along. Yes, I am alone. – Back on the A at Mott. How I hate to see that zero balance on the MetroCard! It was about 16h or so. Thwind was coming up, cloudy sky, beautiful crashing waves! I do so miss Rockaway! – While I had a signal, I phoned ADP to get the routing number for the ADP card for direct deposit at RHAS. It should arrive in 7 days. – On the train, I ate 4 PopTarts. I’d finished the Little Debbies during the day. Living on sugar again! – 22h38 I’m hitting for sleep. The trash is in the hall now. Worthless sht. At this hour! – Continued on Friday morn… (Fri .26 10h28 Midtown Library) RAIN! This morning I forced a small BM and right now, as I sit calmly, my bowels are struggling to clear them-selves. I don’t want to “go” because I’ve only just settled at the end of an empty table by the window, away from any and everybody else. My 99-cent poncho is on the chair beside me, wet. I’d rather not carry it about until it’s dry. But, life and existence being what they are, what I’d prefer doesn’t matter. Let’s see how long I can hold out. – I’m noticing that I didn’t finish yesterday’s entry. For the sake of continuity, I’ll do that now and then get to the farce that is today: (Last evening) Got back to the shelter at approximately 18h. Could have been a bit earlier but I’m not certain. Time there is irrelevant. Went to A108 to drop my back-pack and shove 2 PopTarts down my throat and up to the 7th floor for car-fare for tomorrow. I’ve no place to be tomorrow but if they’re going to give me cash, I can use it or, I can certainly travel at some point. Not to mention, I might need it to get to work immediately. Best to have it when needed. Little did I know how smart this decision was to become. Peace O. was in but had a client there. I waited. When I got to se her, only some moments later, she seemed pleased to see me but said I’d have to come back for car-fare because she had an intake to complete. .. OK. So I was kind and pleasant, thanked her for her continued support and kindness, went down-stairs to make a wash. About an hour later I was back on 7 using the New Haven Agency as my destination for car-fare. She was a bit supportive of my job search efforts but stressed the need for more money… says she knows Home Attendants receiving 12-dollars an hour. Well, I’m looking forward to being another of them. I left with the voucher and headed back to A108 to make make-shift line in the window to hang my laundry. I used the cloth medical tape. Not perfect but it serves my purpose. I also took the time to throw together 2 peanut butter-and-honey sandwiches. In spite of not being able to properly move my bowels I constantly hungry. But I mustn’t get caught with food in the room. There are signs about, some-where, that prohibit it. I can understand why. We have men in here who can’t make a bed or keep the shower clean. SO, I got a few moments to lie down before heading BACK up to 7 to sign in for the night. Useless moments for actual rest. But a lie-down none-the-less. – 20h and BACK on 7. Mr. Brown made the announcement about needing to have our meal ticket in hand or it’s back to the end of the queue, and THEN came the crack in the head: NO CAR-FARE would be distributed tonight! It was a horror and a relief tome. I wanted to get the matter settled now but I wanted to shower before bed too. So, without car-fare available, I could simply go back to A108, shower and try for a full night’s sleep. OK. – As I was getting ready for my shower, Angelo, from A109 came in to visit. We talked, laughed. He told me about his health troubles: plastic body parts, rehab., daughter, etc. Mike, from A109 came too. It’s nice to be known by people in here, but not too much. I tell them that I get up in the morning and GO. My feeling is: the longer I’m in or around the building, the greater my chances of falling victim to something. Besides, I’m certain that there are those who don’t want Jews around. Best to keep moving, keep busy, keep away. – I did pass a guy from down the hall who reminded me of the coming high holy days. I have no appropriate clothes to wear to services. I’ll be alone, dreadfully alone for all of them this year. As I smoked out-side, some guy asked if I’m Jewish. I’m wearing a kippa. What do these people think? But, so far, the only truly negative experience was Shockeye. (11h20 and I’m fading into dozing here!) – Generally, this evening I’ve been a bit apprehensive. There’s bad weather coming, many new faces, tempers and the likes. I make my presence very scarce. – The day closed with shower, journal, bed by about 23h. – Note: When I came in this evening, the DHS cop who helped me the evening I got A108 assigned, quickly scanned me with the wand and asked if I had guns in my sweat-shirt. We both smiled. When he sees me in the building he asks how I’m doing. Humanity?

FRI.26 11h52 Midtown Library. The rain seems to have abated. It’s quite chilly in here now. I arrived at 10h28. I’m hungry but there’s just no way to sneak a nibble. I opened the pack of PopTarts, broke a bit, but can’t get it from bag to mouth! People are situated so every move can be monitored. It’s a poor day for lunching in Bryant Park too. maybe I’ll be able to get into the stacks at some point to grab a bite. I still need to get on-line to find the office of VNS Home Care. Ironic: I’m wearing the teal scrub top and am on the second floor… “Health Information Center”. Medical! I’m fitting-in here as I do on 29th at the shelter (being so close to Bellevue and NYU). But before I fade off an out (O! Thankfully! It’s 12h03. The afternoon! I can return to my room in 4 hours.) THE FARCE OF THIS FRIDAY: Construction next door woke me up at 5h26. I rolled over and dozed until about 6h45. Had to pee and dump. Got the pee but not all of the dump. Had my coffee, headed for the shower. A new guy was coming to take the shower. No contest! I got it. Am I starting to actually LOOK “Seasoned” in the shelter? Shower done, dress, lock-up. 7th floor by approx. 8h10 to queue for car-fare at 8h30 and there I stood. 4 behind me until, at long last, somebody came to tell us to go to another office down the hall! No note on the door. No thought, no consideration! So I lost my 1st place on the queue but I didn’t mind. Angelo A107 came by this morning. According to him, the entire week-end is expected to be a wash-out. RAIN! And me with only one set of clothes. At that, I’ve worn most, jeans, for 43 days now! If they get wet it’s going to be a terrible odour! So, anyway, I get to the guy at the desk who THEN tells those waiting that he has no more car-fare and we’re to wait “in the lounge”. That’s come to annoy me in the first place: the “lounge”. No-where to sit, filthy, depressing… “lounge”? But I go. As with last evening and the car-fare but with PO, there is no return time made know: I go to “the lounge” to sit at the window and stare blankly out at the mud in the construction site and at the rain coming out of the sky to curse me. A woman comes in speaking in a very loud voice. She is a Substance Abuse Counselor with info. on re-hab and recovery programmes, to tell us there is no more Welfare, we must be working and on our current job for 6 months before trying for Section 8 and other bits of good information to help us get out of the shelter. I listen until some guy who was turned away at the car-fare desk comes in to tell me that the REAL car-fare office is now open! Again, I was the first there this morning but I’ve lost my place! But I know enough to shut my mouth. Pissing them off gets you nothing more than further attacks on your basic human dignity. I jut grab my back-pack and go. It’s the same woman as Wednesday morning: kind disposition, soft spoken, compassionate demeanour. I’m relieved. We exchange thoughts on the weather. She tells me she’s to attend a shower tomorrow. She hands me papers to sign. I do. 4 dollars. I thank her, wish her a good week-end, depart. I need to pee and to sht. I need to get out of the building. I need to eat something. I need to figure what to do with my day. I have being in The City. I head numbly… as I am most of the time when I’m in the shelter… to the exit. I’m out. A man wishes me a “Good Shabbos”. It’s strange how many Jews are in the shelter. But none wearing a kippa. Today I think how it could be to be seen going into the shelter wearing my kippa. It would make a great news story! Given, of course, only if they’d make public the Edlyne fiasco. Who know? Still, it’s interesting about the Jews in the shelter system. – A smoke and I’m in my 99-cent poncho and out on the streets, wandering up and over to here, the Mid-town library where, at 12h56, my eyes are fading, poncho is almost completely dry, back is sore from sitting, bladder needs emptying and so do the bowels, I’m hungry, the temperature has dropped 2 degrees and some clown turned on a fan and I’m half way through the day. So. I’m caught up with the Journal. The place is beginning to fill up. A list of things to hit on-line, an appointment of time on0line and the rest of the day from here. – 16h52 A108 (2E-22) Hit the Internet for my 45 minutes and hit ALL e-mails (nothing), Worpdress and searches! Peed and strolled back to the shelter. At the end of 35th street is a ferry and a small park. Had my 2 sandwiches in the park. (At the broken PopTart en route.) Being by the water was soothing. The waves of the river broke in places, some rolled along, others hit the cement wall and rolled back out. Ifound myself feeling sorry for the waters of the East River: so confined, so beaten by boats, so filthy. Oh, to stand at the open ocean again where the water is master to the land. (The little shell I carried in my sweat-shirt got broken some-how. The pieces are in my window. But Killian’s post-card of the Tilden dunes is in the plastic on the wall beside the door to remind me of “Home” where I’ll return, soon, successful. I actually hate being here, in The City. The buildings are ugly, too, TOO much noise, too many “beings” wandering about. I want to go home to Rockaway!) So, after eating, I meandered down 1st Av. to here. How silly to look at the well-to-do and their pamperedness. May they enjoy it whilst they may. At the rate the economy is going, some of them may end up as some of us. Those of us who have always struggled now have it better. We learnt what to do to get by. I arrived here just past 16h, hung the wash back in the window, had one more sandwich and now? It’s 17h06. I can relax until 20h for sign-in. It’s calm here now. I don’t know what I’ll do tonight. Only 3 cigarettes left BUT when I put the 4 dollars car-fare into my wallet there was 2 dollars in there already! 6 dollars in the wallet. 1 dollar in change! Ah, to be filthy rich! – Nap time on this dreary evening. If I could know I’ll keep this room I’d wash my jeans tonight. But with the way this place plays with people, there’s just no telling. (21h11) Mike (from room A127) and I got to talking this evening. Hungarian Jew. Family gone is Auschwitz. He’s 50. We talked about surviving this “shelter” business. He, like me, doesn’t see the sense in it, the surviving. I said that our relatives survived through the war so I’m supposing we owe them that much to continue the tradition. A guy from Washington heights, a Puerto Rican, probably in his 50’s also, said he remembered when the Jews and Germans were there. “You could eat off the streets” and “They all worked together. The left and you don’t see that anymore.” We talked about how this system and its people tries to rip basic human dignity out of each of us and how there are men in here, clients or what-ever, who do the same thing. Some of them are here for a while. Others come as “over-nighters”. Me? I get the gut feeling that some over-nighters come in to steal what they can get and leave until their next steal. When I woke from my hour’s nap earlier, I was having a sandwich and the door flies open. Young, Black guy standing there. Said nothing, closed the door. Checking to see if the room was empty? To see if there was something to take? Nobody can ever know for certain. This place brings out the god and the base sht in a being. – As we’re talking, comes a White guy. Wants to know about signing for his bed. Chris Bowman. A.k.a. Boxer. Came in last night from Downstate. His supervisor told him to leave his stuff in his locker today while he took care of his parole business. While he was gone, the shelter emptied his locker and assigned him a different bed in a 7-bed room. He’s pissed. Can’t blame him. This fking place (and I mean that, they fk everybody when-ever they can) has absolutely no respect for humanity. At the very top of the sht list is the Afrikans, and there are so many of them employed here. They’re no different than old junk-yard dogs… just plain nasty. Actually, that’s no so true. Jun-yard dogs become nasty over time. They’re probably adorable little puppies. These Afrikans are most likely born of nasty parents, drop from nasty wombs of nasty women and, in spite of any resemblance to humans, choose to become more nasty. Moving along… – I went up to 7 to sign. Peace O. comes along, takes me off queue into the office. She wants to know how it went today. TODAY she wants to know. I simply said it went well and that I’m now registered with 3 agencies. I am. As for yesterday’s? They need the results of the blood-work and drug test before giving me a client. I thanked her for encouraging me and giving me the ability to see past my situation. She said it’s what she does every day. She encouraged me to go for more money all the time. She’s right. When I left her, I went to the end of the queue. It avoids any bullsht from the gnat-brains here. She came out and told me to go back to where I was. I declined. Hey. It makes no difference when I sign, as long as I sign. – Went down for one more smoke. A guy asked if I’d save some of my cigarette for him. Well, I had one dollar in change and bought 2 “loosies” and gave him one. As I queued to come back in, a low-life jumped the line in front of me, un-noticed by those behind me. I don’t’ waste my time with that kind. – As I stood down there tonight a thought struck me: Surviving thought these 43 days has taken some kind of stamina. It’s also hardened my heart in some fashion and educated me in many other ways. I’ve been “Homeless” before but alone. Now I have to hone my instincts and watch others. It’s disproving everything the old man ever said about me all through my life: useless, gutless, brainless, sissy, pansy, fruit, etc. I wonder how he’d react if he knew I was here. I wonder how he’d react if he could see how and where I am. I wonder how the all would feel and react if they could see this. I suppose the siblings might feign “care”. The old man’s so far gone he couldn’t grasp any of it. They’re all as useless as the sht in this place. I waste my own brain-power on any thoughts of them. – All the while, there’s the sound of some hissing like steam coming from a radiator. It’s been non-stop all the while. I think it’s the sounds out-side coming in through the window. Traffic and the ventilation from the hospital (NYU) across the construction lot. (NOTE: 8 Jan 09: The hissing was a generator running a pump on the construction site. The building across is Bellevue Women’s/Children’s shelter and Bellevue Hospital) Never, never, never any silence here. – Tomorrow will be an interesting day. No Rockaway. NOAA predicts rain through Sunday. Here comes the real test of my ability to stay sane. – As I’m writing, Angelo (A107) come in. He’s had a really miserable day and, well, the whole system is trying to fk him over just as he’s getting his life together. I mean, he’s managed to get a job… on his own. From what he tells me, he does everything he can for his 2 daughters. He’s a good man at heart. So, here it is, 23h27 and we just stopped talking. All I try to do is tell him that he shouldn’t let others get him down or keep him down. Again, I’m doing everything I can to help somebody else. But, as I’ve learned, this is what I do and I can’t think about getting any of this support back. It just won’t happen. Still, in my own heart, hardened or not, I hope for the best for him. – (10h08 Sat.) Angel came back as I was writing. He’d gotten his socks wet, running around in the rain all day and was going to wash them. I’ve got 4 pairs, so I gave him a pair of mine that I hadn’t worn. I figured he could wash one pair, wear the other. He threw the old par in the garbage! Oh well. That’s why “them that’s got shall get, them that’s not shall lose.” – I finally put out the lights well past midnight. Hopefully I’ve accomplished some good with this day.

SAT.27. 44 days Homeless/13 days in the shelter. 10h14 A108 Not a good night’s sleep. I couldn’t drift off through most of the night. I try to do good by others and can’t even be given sleep in return. Oh well. What the fk? And it got so cold during the night. Ah hah! I guess I’m supposed to be thankful I have a second blanket to cover my-self with. OK. Not really “OK” but it’s all I’ll get so I may as well live with it. – First thing this morning Angel wakes me to tell me it’s time for breakfast. I said that I skip breakfast and he went on. I went back to sleep, nice and warm. Had the alarm set for 8h. By the time I finally woke, it was 8h29! Sht! I’ve got 2 cigarettes left and nothing on my agenda for today. NOAA says 90 per-cent chance of rain. Angel says he slept till noon last week-end. I should jump up and out the door into a rainy day of wandering for nothing? Not! So, at 8h30 I made a sandwich (peanut butter/honey/Kaiser roll) had the left-over coffee. I’ve managed to get rid of my finger nails and file-down the toe nails. The pinky-toe, right foot is quite nasty and cracked with fungus. On my next visit to PHC I’m going to do a “show and tell” and tell them it’s from their shower. – Meanwhile, I could use a smoke. I took a couple drags off the Newport I bought last night. I’ll try for a couple more and then a shower. I also need a real BM before my entire inside goes. I can’t do another digital… not here. – I wonder how the folks of RAA-T6 are these days. Dick-heads that they are. – Had the phone on for a few moments. No messages. – It’s been almost dead quiet here this morning (save, construction which began at about 9h or so). Are the scumbags getting their rest to raise hell tonight? In any case, I’ll enjoy it while I can. But for this morning? A shower. I need to see P.O. this evening. (P.O. Peace Ochiaga/Parole Officer. How funny. Hah!) – 13h48 I’m showered and dressed. Did “lunch” here with Angel. Lunch: container of juice, 2 granola bars, a small container of something that might pass for potato salad and a sandwich… processed meat of some kind with cheese on whole wheat. Leave it to the day I go for total non—kosher. Do I care? Hey! I ate something. Maybe this evening I’ll try the dinner menu. – So Angel is trying to borrow money from his family. You know? When you’re where we are now, nobody will help. As I wrote before, NOFS; not one fking soul. Sht. I’m only 3 dollars away from a pack of cigarettes and I GAVE the half Newport to Angel this morning. I have to check the give-aways. Cigarettes and sox. I’m not learning! – At about 17h I’ll go see P.O. Hopefully I’ll keep this bed and I’ll wash my jeans this evening. Meanwhile? I could use a cigarette, shoot a load (I’m so friggin horny today for some reason), and a nap. I guess I’ll settle for a nap while I can. – 18h58 I’VE WASHED MY JEANS! 44 DAYS AND I’VE WASHED MY JEANS! – It’s about the way a day gets broken-up around here that plays on one’s sanity. Breakfast at 6h. Lunch at 12h30. Dinner at 18h Normal? Yes. But in between is waiting for the shower. Waiting for a case-worker. Waiting for a bed assignment. Waiting for a meal ticket. Waiting to wait for something or somebody. I showered this after-noon then came back to the room with 2,5 hours to wait to see P.O. for my new meal ticket. I fell asleep waiting. Went up to 7 at about 17h as others were going to eat. On 7, I waited for almost 45 minutes to hear “Why are you here?” (I note: She and I discussed ALL of this just last evening. “My meal ticket expires tomorrow. You won’t be here. You told me to come to you today.” “Oh, I will give you a paper one because I don’t’ want to get up.” Imagine? And walk just across the hall! Oh my!) “Did you do your medical today?” “No. You told me to do it on Monday. I didn’t know it could be done an Saturday.” (I note: She told me Monday to Friday, 9-5. I’m hearing 8h from other “clients”.) It took all of 5 minutes for this and I waited, third in the queue, 45 minutes. By the time I got back to 2E-22, I had just less than an hour to get dinner. I chose to wash my jeans. WASH MY JEANS! Angelo came to tell me that I dinner was chicken, sweet potatoes and broccoli, (Hospital food?) – 21h42 WHAT A NIGHT THIS TURNED INTO! Angel comes by, makes himself at home. We talk. While we’re talking, I want a cigarette and so does he so I ask how much a pack of tobacco is. He tells me 1,50 dollars. So I figure, I can roll a pack at 1,50 dollars or go without until I can afford 8,45 dollars for 20. What the fk? We’re out of here. It’s just past 19h so there’s time. I put on the blue scrub pants, my boots and we hit a bodega on 2nd. OK. “Tops” and “Bugler” all 2,50 dollars. Bugler come with 40 rolling papers. 40 smokes at 2,50 dollars? Sold! And me, in scrubs and a kippa. Too cute. But now, Angel wants to buy a bottle. Says he can get something for 2,50 dollars. We go to the park on 28th where I proceed to try tolling a cigarette. I haven’t rolled in years! (10h35 Sunday) First try wasn’t all that bad. As Angel said, a little loose but pretty good. And, as I see, “bugler” is a Turkish blend. Camels! If the 40 papers make 40 cigarettes, I’m going to stick with this at 2,50 dollars! As we’re enjoying our smokes, some young, maybe 20 year-old, kid shows up. Well dressed. Well spoken. Hair pulled back. A bit of a throw-back to what we used to call “Cha-Cha Disco”. He and Angel get to talking about getting a bottle of something and the kid agrees to go in on it. We head down 2nd. The kid’s name is Marvin. Latino. A little buzzed or just “off” altogether. The 3 of us walk into the liquor store. I’m in scrubs and kippa! The other 2 choose a bottle for 3 dollars and change. I toss in 50 cents. They’re 10-cents short. The Chinaman behind the counter lets it go telling them not to come back if they can’t bring all the money. Me? I stay mute and head for the door. We head east on 26th or 27th and Marvin stops under some scaffolding. There are 2 older men there, one on a chair, the other behind a chain-link fence, on the ground. Both are sleeping. Marvin goes over to the one on the ground, feels around his chest, pulls out an empty juice bottle. The sleeper doesn’t stir. Angel opens the half-pint, takes a swig, passes it to me, I take a swig. Rum. I pass it back, it’s passed to Marvin who empties half or so into his own bottle. A lot of activity for about a shot each. Then comes the “entertainment” (as if Marvin’s earlier display of his masculine prowess wasn’t enough when, on 2nd Ave., a stretch limo passes us. Allegedly, there were several girls in it and Marvin does a little flailing gyration, trying to entice them. His efforts resulted in his standing alone on the side-walk, staring down the avenue where the limo had been but was no more.) This time, Marvin informs Angel that he is pimping the old guy in the chair and “maybe what he wants is what you want.” Me! I’m mildly amused by this and wanting very much to get back to the shelter to sign for the bed for the night. Angel takes this offer in stride and politely declines the offer. We leave our little street merchant and head back, getting a kick out of the whole affair, stopping to roll another smoke. – Angel needs car-fare to et to a new job in the morning but has no voucher. Why he doesn’t know the protocol and I do is something I don’t understand but I figure I can learn a new twist to the car-fare game by following him. We go to 7 to sign for beds. Peace O. is on duty. I simply sign, tell her to have a good week-end (she’s off Sun. and Mon.) and step out. Angel asks about his car-fare. She tells him to see the supervisor, Mr. Alexander (one of 2 with the same name). This is the one I’ve never been quite certain of: rather androgynous, wears excellently colour-co-ordinated clothing from cap to shoes and tasteful cologne. So tonight I learn it’s “Mr.” So, Mr. A. is in “the lounge”. Angel goes in to inquire about car-fare. I wait in the hall and am interrogated by some “security” flunky who wants to know what my business is. I tell him thrice. He doesn’t understand that I’m simply waiting for someone in “the lounge”. Out comes Mr. A. followed by an irritated Angel. Mr. A. told him he has to come back later but, as is always the case around here, doesn’t say how much later. Angel gets angry and starts sarcasms which leads into yelling which prompts me to get him to the stairs and away. OK. A save. I tell him NOT to aggravate these people because it defeats everything. He argues that he’ll jump fare tomorrow or walk. Eventually he’s a bit calmer and we’re on the 2nd floor. – A stop at A109. More drama. This young Black man is having trouble procuring a job because of several misdemeanors, a couple of gun possessions and 2 attempted murders. All, it must be noted, simple misunderstandings. He’s also the head of 3 Brooklyn “clicks”. 1 raises show dogs (the dog pound?), another protects the children and elderly (silverbacks), and another is simply a gang of kids with excessive hormone trouble and no brains, looking to do some basic violence on an on-call basis. Well, this little chit-chat brings us even later into the night. I’ve heard Angel’s history of molestation. I’m hearing this guy’s history of being misunderstood. I’m thinking I’m tired and want to get some sleep. Finally, we break when I to pee. But Angel comes to my room for a final smoke, a bit more chat. Because I didn’t go to diner, he gave me his sandwich from his dinner. I gave him 2 dollars that I had left from getting the Bugler. Hell! He needs it to get to work! Brian helped me when I needed. I pass the kindness of humans along. Angel rolled 2 more smokes and JUST SHORTLY AFTER we’d finished out last smoke for the night, the door opens… BED CHECK! The guard asked if everything was OK. I said that we were just talking about life. He assured he was just making sure everything was OK and excused himself for disturbing us. Angel was laying across the foot of the bed. I was sitting against the wall at the head of the bed. Well. If anything was made of it, so what? Let the pea-brains amuse themselves if they need to. – FINALLY! The day ended! – A note here: Angel has told me of his HIV status, drugs problems, Gay encounters, Gay relatives. I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just noting.

SUN. 28 11h32 45/14 MORE RAIN! NO SLEEP ALL BLODDY NIGHT BECAUSE OF DAMED MOSQUITOES ALL BLOODY NIGHT! NO FKING SLEEP ALL NIGHT! – I would be most remiss if I failed to note that the floor in the 3 stalls in the shtter on this floor are a miserable, bloody-fking insult to every aspect of Creation! There isn’t one moment of any given day when the damned floor isn’t so soaked with pee that it flows right over a flip-flop! The fking area with 6 sinks is wet because we’re doing our wash there and these river-rock-beaters can’t quite figure out how to keep the water IN the sink! As for the shower? There again; water all over the floor! Fking bunch of bloody brain-dead morons! The lot of them! So, now that that’s been noted… I was awake ALL night with the mosquitoes in this room! Today, more blood spots under and on the pillow. Just as I was beginning to doze off (5h45 for the alarm) the alarm went off. I’d told Angel I’d have breakfast with him this morning. At about 6h15 he came by. I got up, brushed my teeth, splashed my face, he returned… from breakfast! OK. Hung around. Took the 3 cigarettes I’d rolled for me for today. A109 came by. They shared a smoke in HERE! I’m going to put a stop to that today. I’ll lose my bed because of this sht. Anyway, they left at about 7h and I went back to sleep for about 2 hours. It’s raining again today. The main library opens 13-17h (why the fk do they even bother? Four fking hours.) Thankfully I don’t HAVE to leave the building today (although I’m still not quite certain about it. The signage reads Mon. through Friday. 8-16h Nothing said about week-ends. So it’s another one of those “Figure it out for your damned self” issues, and today it’s pissing me off in spite of the dropped load in this morning’s shower right after a rather delightful BM. But…) – I have to find an EBT market locally. There are Gristedes all over this friggin neighbourhood and none of them have the little sticker or signs for credit/debit cards. I’m out of peanut-butter and honey and bread. It’s 12h04 and I could go up to lunch but I really don’t want to. I’d like a smoke, but not in this room, and I don’t feel like going down and out and back through security. I might just nap a bit and, if it’s not too miserable, go to the library for a bit. It would be nice if the rain would stop. – My jeans aren’t’ drying very well. – The floor has been relatively calm all morning. – The “shshsht” of the vent system for Bellevue is almost maddening. 2 weeks in this place! I need to get out! But I need a charger for my phone so I can get called to work! You know? Since “friends” and “social workers” won’t and haven’t helped me so far, it’s time I help myself… phone charger, warmer clothes… it’s time. And God will help me in these endeavours… no matter what. – I’m napping now. (17h24) Napped until about 13h45. Left out of here about 13h30 and walked up to the library, taking streets and avenues with the least amount of people. This is Manhattan. I don’t’ want to see anybody I know. I just don’t want to talk kindly to anybody I know. I have nothing kind to say to anybody I know. – The sun broke through making it hot and muggy. I had a cigarette and noticed my thumb and middle finger are tobacco-stained. How charming! And I have now way to clean it. – No Internet at the library! No copy of Argile Stox (who went from Wall St. to this shelter). I went up to the 3rd floor, art and literature. Emergency BM. Somebody bathing in the centre stall! Ah, these days. Then for a browse in the stacks for instruction on drawing faces. Nothing of any inspiration but I took 4 or 5 books and went to a table. As I sat there, 2 men came from the stairs. One mumbled something and the other commented “It’s a shelter for the homeless”. I wanted so very much to quietly stand, softly stroll over to him and sharply punch his face to the back of his head. Be it so or not, I shall pray that you learn, first hand, the feeling of homelessness. Daily, I pray for the same for all those who coldly let me slip into it. I’m terribly bitter. I make no effort to change that. – A young Black girl came to ask if there is any significance to the colours of my “yarmulke”. I told her they’re “John Deere” colours and there’s no particular significance to any of the colours. She politely thanked me for taking the time to answer her question. – As I was leaving, I heard a “psst” and stopped to see a young Black man motioning to me. I went over to him. He asked if I knew him. I said I might but wasn’t sure. He’s from here, 2nd floor, “Michael’s room”. Ah! “Which Michael?” I wonder now. A109? A127? 6th floor? No doubt I’ll find out soon. – The walk back was quick. The DHS guard who helped me the night I got this (A108-2E-22) bed asked “How you doing, sir?” He’s magnificent in his respect for dignity. I wish I was in a position to help him in his career or something. – I’ve returned to my chamber. My jeans are still in the window. They’re still wet. It’s 17h45. I’m quite hungry. There’s no food left in my locker. Dinner is served until 19h I don’t’ want to go… alone. And of course, I know there’s nothing kosher. With my good fortune and fate, no doubt it will be pork anyway. I should go, find out if Gristedes will crumble if I use EBT there. Soon the sun will set, the day will end. Angel will be here with stories of work. – This morning somebody set off the fire alarm. Smoking in the room should be kept down for a while. – People are milling in the loo and hallway. Every movement echoes. A stall door slams, toilet flushes, a voice, foot-steps. It’s all amplified. No TV. No radio. No music. No news. No energy. No affect. Today is my challenge to maintain some sanity. Tonight at 20h30 I sign for the bed. This routine is gnawing at me. Tomorrow? My psych eval. After that? A world unknown and unknowable. The administration plays with us as if we were un-human toys. – Angel’s room-mate, the old Black man with white hair keeps coming and going. My wall wobbles every time his door closes. The sound of Bellevue’s ventilation system wooshes non-stop. The sun is setting. Another day in the shelter. – There is the stench of this place and the stench of Manhattan and the stench of all that both personify. The stench of merely existing. The stench of banality. The stench of the complete insanity and irrationality of it all. Just stench. It make me nauseous. I curse, with each heart-beat, all those who could have helped keep me away from this and did nothing. And when I say “all”, I go back to the day I left 3150. Pookie too. The bitterness has finally gone that dep. – I noticed in the library, that the hair on my fingers is darker and more noticeable. I always wanted more body hair. Maybe I’ll get it just at my moment of death. I’m tired. I’m hungry. There’s nothing to eat. It’s 18h05. Doors slam and echo. People walk and echo. Voices carry and echo. What the fk am I doing here! (No echo.) – 20h49 Signed for bed. Security monkey doing the sign-in tonight in the Case-Workers’ office. We had to queue in the opposite direction and in front of the lift! One of the P.R. junkies from A104-5 cut the line but, there’s no sense in saying anything to that kind of sht. Besides, as I keep in mind: I’ll get there eventually. I jut don’t like the idea that sign-in happened earlier than 20h30. In this sht-hole where protocol is so fking important (when it suits some sht-head’s purpose) any excuse to screw a resident over will do. Tonight, this may be an excuse to play us all, shift us around by claiming we didn’t’ sign and causing all kinds of bull-sht. I just hope not. I’m hungry and not in the mood. Besides, it’s friggin raining again so taking to the streets is not an option. – RAINING AGAIN! MY JEANS WILL NEVER DRY AT THIS RATE! – So I signed-in and went out-side for a smoke… in the drizzle. Came back up. Washed my socks. They’re hanging in the window now. – I went through the bags of papers and such. Got my medical papers together for tomorrow. PPD, PHC D/C, RHAS bloods, just in case they come in handy for tomorrow’s circus. Threw a lot out. No need to keep most of it. – There’s a mosquito in here that needs to go. I can’t afford yet another night of no sleep. – 21h No messages/calls on the phone. – No sign of Angel. He was supposed to work until 20h. I just hope he gets in by 22h to keep his bed. Too bad I stick out so much here. I can’t pass for anybody else but me. – I don’t’ recall if I mentioned: the guy in the library today offered me a donut! I keep remembering that kindness. – 21h48 Angel’s back. Brought a bottle of rum. I get 2 swigs. He’s in a good mood too. Hey! He brought a friend into the shelter! Imagine that? Recruiting! Anyway, he and A109 are in his room smoking AND, some guy mopped the loo and shower! – This is becoming the social hall and folks is hanging here. They’ve finally left me alone. But, its nice to have a little posse. Espcially here where we’ve got THIS in common. Oh, and hey! Angels gave me the 2 dollars back! Now let’s compare to all those so-called “friends” in life. FK! – 23h25 I have a feeling we’ve had out first “altercation”. Angel was giving some guy a hard time about the shower and the next thing I know, the wall between his room and this one is banging and I hear “What the fk ar you doing?” So much sht over a shower. Anyway, thankfully, I see A and some other guy out in the hall. No telling what happened but I’m sure I’ll get the details eventually. – 24h38 Angel got his shower and has gone to bed. The fight? I still don’t understand it. A Black guy hogging the shower. The P.R. Doper got involved. I don’t’ know. Well. I’m off to sleep. A busy day, stuck in here tomorrow.

MON.29. 46/15 9h50 In the tank on 7. A beautiful day out there today… wasted, just wasted. Had breakfast at about 6h with Angel. Got about 45 mins. Extra sleep. Got a shower and went out for a smoke. Back in and up here by 8h45 to stand and wait in the hall for my “physical”. JUST NOW I’m told to sign-in! JUST NOW I’m told to come back TOMORROW AT 8h! SO I put my name on the 2nd page of the waiting list for “Psych Only” and now I get to sit here, rotting away, waiting some more, on the fking floor! Again, last night, broken, light sleep. I’m getting to the point of losing my patience. I need a charger for the phone. I don’t know what to expect when called for work. It’s becoming a dead-end loop. It’s really all counter-productive. It’s farce, pure farce. If I can ever publish this journal, there are so many details I don’t’ write but hope to remember. But the top and bottom line? Absurd farce, from beginning to end. – 11h12 Still in the tank, sitting silently on the floor, in the corner, drawing./sketching in the “Notes” borders on previous pages. Sitting here, while the sun shines in clear blue skies outside the grated window. Sitting here, in silence, in the corner, with guys who boast about their criminal records. Sitting here, listening to the jack-hammers and trucks drowning out the inconsiderate woman who is calling out names in the hallway. How long does it take to interview and classify somebody in here? How much intelligence could it possibly take to know who is and who is not a threat to self and/or others? And to think that I get to waste another day tomorrow. And I can’t help but believe that it’s done mostly out of spite, slovenliness, just plain inconsideration and only a bit of being over-worked. – Phone on for a moment or two. – 11h59 Still in the fking tank! I’d swear there’s some guy telling these Hispanics to go find housing in Newburgh. To see Snr. Resnick! – 12h34 Still in this fking room with no idea what is to happen (or not). And the weather is beautiful and lunch is being served on the 3rd floor. Construction next door has recommenced. – Sydney addressed me as “Jew-man” earlier. Got a rise out of one guy. Anyway, says he’s heard from Dennis. That’s nice. I can’t be too what-ever. – I guess I’ll go down for a smoke. As I say, “what-ever”. – 12h52 Went down. Had a smoke. Got back. 6 of us sitting here. Got a chair by the window! At 16h I’m going to my room. This is too much now. Meanwhile, more “illustrating”. – 17h08 at A108 at last! The psych. eval. lasted about 30 mins. Intrusive questions, as expected. I did get the chance to “out” the old man so now there’s a record of being abused! Siobhan (Nurse/Psyc) asked about my “support” structure. I told her I have none. Otherwise? I’ll jot more later. I’m going to try dinner here this evening at 17h30. – Oh, the day has gone cloudy. There’s talk or rain for Tuesday and Wednesday. But tomorrow I have to be on 7 at 7h30 for the “physical”. Then, at 16h I have to get a new “meal ticket” and a voucher for car-fare to get to the P.O. on Wednesday (no RAA!) and hopefully to see Brian! Maybe Friday I’ll try to “acquire” the charger for the phone. Life is all about challenges, meeting challenges and taking care of “SELF”. If I’ve learnt nothing more, I’ve learnt that much here. – The jeans are almost dry too. Jeans for the New Year! – 18h21 A108 Back from dinner. 2 hot dogs, dried out sauerkraut, instant mashed potatoes, fruit-cup (mostly water), orange juice (frozen), coffee. Some baked beans and 2 slices, whole wheat bread. It hit my stomach and I had to go. But I went out for a smoke, made it back up-stairs just in time! H2O trots. Maybe it was breakfast? Egg, juice, Cheerios, coffee, orange juice. Hey! The “food” was hot. I can’t complain. – SO, I stand and wait for medical for a good hour before some-body tells me that I had to go IN to the office to register. Right away, they can’t take me today. Com back tomorrow at 8. (More like 7.) I sign the register for psych. There’s a whole page already done. I sign and wait, and wait, and wait. I just so happened that I decided to check the list as my turn came! The forms are very much the same as being admitted to St. Vincent’s: release of info, consent, right, etc. That was just to open my chart. Then more waiting. In the questions: Medicaid? Nope. Why the fk hasn’t anybody just done the fking forms? Hearing voices? Seeing things? Drugs? I admitted to doing and not liking weed and coke. Hx of abuse? OH YES! Hx of being abusive? Alcohol abuse? (With my old man-David-as an example of it!) How do I handle stress: here and in general. (I wanted to say: I’ve pissed away an entire day here. Nobody tells anybody how things are done or what’s expected. I’m sitting here the gentle man and you want to know how I handle stress?!? Instead, I said: I avoid it or, if possible, try to defuse.) How do you feel right now? “Positive.” Thank you. We’re done. (Oh yay. Tah.) – So tomorrow I get my medical. I need a new meal ticket. I’ll go for car-fare. I’ll try for real food at Gristedes or D’Ag (or try to find an Associated or C Town) (tee-hee. White-Jew-trash that I am). A trip to the library with the artists. And since it’s Rosh Hashannah, I’ll hope for nice weather. IF I get another 3 or more days in A108 (2E-22) I’ll wash my sweat-shirt too! – Now? 18h41. Nap! Got to be back on 7 at 20h for bed signing. Always a little something to be done. – Oh. And I took the plastic “frost” film off the bottom window. I can see out into the world! and light came in! – One note: I told the pseudo-shrink-lady that I’m homesick for the peace of Rockaway. Also told her about Shockeye’s nasty comment. She feigned “appalled”. Me too. NAP TIME! (I wonder where Angel is…) – 18h51 A know on the door. ROOM CHECK! How sweet. – 22h14 Angel and I went yup to sign in and then out for a stroll down 2nd to the liquor store. 2,75 dollars for half-pint “Georgi” and a seat on a bench in a project on 26th or 27th. Ah, another swig… for the New Year. – A guy wished me “Hag sameach” as I came out from signing in. Mike A127 saw me in the lift and called “Happy New Year!” Meanwhile, I’m remembering least year, sitting on the bench in “Riverdale”, alone, sketching under the street lampe. I’m thinking of how much I’d looked forward to being at Beth El in Belle Harbor this year. It hurts. And I can’t help but hope that those who turned their backs when it mattererd most have a year very similar to what they were so instrumental in bringing to me. I don’t ask to be forgiven for having such sentiments. Forgiveness is not appropriate. God knows and understands. TUE. 30. 47/16 7h56 7th floor “lounge” Woke at 5h30, showered, dressed, woke Angel at 6h. Up to the 3rd floor for breakfast of: chocolate chip muffin, Froot Loops, coffee. I saved the peach for later. Down-stairs to hit the loo. TWICE. H2O runs again. A 20-minute nap and up there for my medical at 7h30. Waited for the registrar to get in. I was 6th on the queue already and FIFTH on the list and she, the registrar, has the fking set of useless balls to say “I already have 4 on the list but I’ll put you down and hopefully you’ll get in this morning or this afternoon. I’d like to know what the fk they do that takes a whole fking hour! Idiots and morons! The bloody lot of them! I screwed a whole day in this sht-hole yesterday. It might be over-cast and cool right now but the idea of sitting in here for ANOTHER day is pissing me the jolly fk off! – I’m wearing clean jeans, socks and under-wear for the first time in 47 days! It’s the New Year! I spent 21 days in a hospital, had 2 physicals since April. This is just more than fking enough! I have no-where in particular to go to, save the library and maybe the market for real food, but I sure-as-sht don’t want to piss this day away in this sht-hole! – Now that that’s off my chest… – 12h 4th floor library with 12h30 appointment on computer. – Got called for a physical at about 10h! It lasted almost an hour and a half! The Nurse, Black, Islander or ? had race issues, particularly with Jews, but in the course of conversation, we went into some very pleasant talk about health-care and the shelter population. Over-all, it was a good experience. AND I GOT A FLU SHOT! MY FIRST! She described flu symptoms and all I could think of was that I can not afford the flu now, especially since I’m not eating as I should, have no warm clothing, not sleeping well, need work. There are flu-like symptoms to come, but I’ve been assured they will be mild and only about a day. Hopefully, this is true. – On my way out of the building, a guard wished me a good holiday. It’s really quite amazing, how aware the most unexpected people are. – For some reason, I’m in very good spirits… in spite of being exceptionally hungry. – The Nurse told me that A108 is my “Permanent bed” until transfer and , if Im not working, I’ll probably be put in an SRO. Me? I’m truly hoping they’ll find a civil one in Rockaway! – Meanwhile, I’ll get info on the free CAN courses. There’s a 5-year waiting list for the free LPN but I’ll look into that. The application for VNS Home Care. And away I’ll go. Dinner is at 17h. I’ll try to get to Peace O. by 16h30 t give her my medical form and get my new meal ticket. Angel wants me to help him write his memoirs this evening. So far, nothing on my agenda for tomorrow. On the way back to the shelter today I’m going to look for food… FOOD in the markets (I’ve yet to see “We accept EBT” in D’Ag or Gristedes but at this juncture, I’ll give it a try). I’m dead-ass tired too but there’s no-where to nap in this city… save Central Park and that’s too far away and it’s a bit over-cast. So, I wing it for now. – I figured I’d chance a D’Ag on 3rd. Maybe a Fage yoghurt, bread of some sort, something to make a sandwich. Well, almost 20 dollars later, I left D’Ag with a Fage, whipped cream cheese, V8, Arrowroot cookies, Martin’s potato rolls, 6 mini Jif peanut butter. Twenty bucks off my EBT. But, it’s foor and from Food Stamps. So, a walk to the park at the end of 36th for a quick 3 sandwiches and a yoghurt. – 2 women and a man came by. One woman came over to me to ask if I was performing taschlik! When I told her I was simply grabbing a bit to eat she said “Bon appetite. B’tay avon.” I replied” “Merci beaucoup. Toda raba.” Its’ becoming quire charming, how many nice people I’m encountering. Maybe Rachel was right: the kippa brings me good luck. If it would only bring work… Live-in in Neponsit! – back at the shelter by 17h10, drop my pack in the locker and up to 7 where I got Peace O. immediately. She inquired about my work situation. I made better of it saying that I have to get my ID on Friday. “Do they have something for you?” I don’t’ know yet. “Will it be live-in?” I don’t’ know yet. “Have hope. Pray on it.” Indeed, I do. “You are my new rabbi.” I told her. A new meal ticket until 6 Oct. and I bolted to A108 to wash my sweat-shirt on day 47! – Angel was already in when I arrived. I woke him for dinner. Although I’d eaten, I went for dinner: Cubes of chicken in some watery gravy, boxed potato, spinach, frozen grape juice, frozen apple sauce, nasty orange, 2 slices whole wheat brad, pale coffee. It really is quite disgusting but it kills the appetite, and I believe causes IBS. But, I ingest4d it. Then, a nap. – At about 19h30, Angel came back to A108 to show me the one page he’d written on his memoirs. He wasn’t kidding about his spelling. What was on the page bore little resemblance to what he spoke as he read it. He wants me to correct his mis-spellings. It would require a re-write. But I encouraged him to continue. On the 25th of Oct. he will be 39 and yet, he’s almost a teen in many ways. He needs encouragement more than critique. Tomorrow I might help him get a library card and give him a couple pointers on the computer so he can keep a blog for him-self. That is, if he shows up at the library while I’m there. – An early night. Lights out by 22h! My stomach is in turmoil. Near accident this evening. I do believe all of this is beginning to take me down. No doubt, one day, soon it will. For now? I close my mind to it all… just close my mind.
Addendum: When we went up to sign for our beds this evening, I noticed that Angels’ entry was blank. It’s right about mine so I caught it immediately. I told him and he didn’t believe me. Went back in to look and insisted that he did sign. Come to find out at about 23h, he did sign, but, h signed beside A. Rivera’s name! Security came to check and, good fortune, corrected the error and let it go.

BELLEVUE DAYS