December 2008 - Monogram-BlackNotes

MON. 1 DEC. 109/78 10h54 MMLib Too early to go to work. Too late to head to Brooklyn Central, Queens libraries open at 13h. I could use a nap! I got my cheque cashed and next week’s MetroCard done. (I’ve even done my little “Budget” list for the interrogation tomorrow, to cover my “assets”.) But waiting to get in here this morning I have to put up with… “Do you read the taylmood?” “They have one across the street.” A guy named Daniel, claims to be a Texas Jew, sees me at the shelter and wants to talk! And I’m in no mood (or condition for that matter – this morning my bowels want to burst but can’t. I’m wondering where the food I eat is going, where it is and why it’s not coming thought!) I’m, only sufficiently civil. It’s all I’ve got lately. Fuck! I’m tired. Running down. It’s December (Happy Birthday Dear Bette Midler!) and I want to be out on the ocean… DEAD! OK? OK then. – Meanwhile, it’s 11h30 and I’m getting out of here. So big fucking blood shit there! (Good way to close and entry. Yes?) – 22h22 Geo’s been blasting his radio for the past 2 hours or so. Brindou left for about an hour. He’s lying in his bed now, seething. He hates the radio! (I know because he told me, back when he had something to me._) I’m enjoying the fact that he’s so miserable. Yes. I’m enjoying it. The radio is too loud. I’m not particularly fond of what’s playing. But, it’s pay-back. How lovely! – I got in at about 19h30. When I left Tretters’, I hit 3 99cent stores by Lefferts looking for a cheap ledger book to record my spending (for tomorrow’s interrogation). Not one! Came into The City. Went to Jack’s on 31st. Nothing. D to 42nd. Jack’s on 41st. Nothing! Staples on 42nd. Nothing under 8$! I figure I spent 99cents on this journal, I’m NOT spending more on some book that I need only for the whores, bitches, sluts and shits in this bloody prison. So, I caught the 15 bus on 2nd. Tried RiteAid on 30th. Nothing. I came in … starving. Low sugar. – 2 sandwiches: turkey and chicken with mustard, each. The food made a large difference. You see… tonight, for some reason, as I stood at the N.E. corner of 30th and 1st, I looked at this shelter and all I wanted, need to do was vomit! Truly vomit! Today, it, the place and all it’s realities, got to me! I’m disgusted with it and all it is and represents. But, a deep breath and it was past. – After a relatively brief wait through the “security” entrance and having to all but force my way on to the elevator, I was upstairs at the locker. Didn’t bother to wash my hands… as I undressed, I slapped together my 2 sandwiches. The food made a little difference in mood. Just a little. – (Tue. 8h28) Geo. was shit-faced when he cam e in at about 20h25. Rey said he’d been out only 2 hours. Tonight, at time to go to sleep, the booze did what booze will do and the mood went from manic to crash. It’s actually a regular course for him. We talked about him, his place in Creation. I tried, again, to impress upon him that he takes life and existence all too seriously. I know what that’s like and how silly it truly is. I don’t like to see anybody suffer because of their existence. I might not be correct in my point of view or position on life but, the best I can do is make somebody else a little less burdened. I’m not. But hopefully they can be. It’s unfortunate, but he’s another one who won’t help himself. I do what I can. It’s all I have. I don’t like life… existence. Maybe somebody else’s will be better… because I was… here… “was”.

TUE 2 110/79 8h41 At 8h17 I arrived at the “Social Svces” office to no list, no Simmons. I got a chair in the holding area (what “they” call, the “lounge”) and journalled the remainder of last night. At 8h1, Simmons showed. And so, here I sit, appearing calm, letting her do what-ever she believes she needs to do to give herself importance and authority. Walker is roaming the halls. Even the supervisory makes themselves appear to be “in potent”. And all the while, they only thing they maintain is their incompetence, their insignificance. If it wasn’t so sad, it might be humourous. If they weren’t so pathetic, it might merit some pity. But, they make themselves appear to be so terribly busy doing something that appears to be so terribly important and all they while, those of us who have watched this act over a period of time have come to know: they’re impotent and incompetent. They serve no purpose other than to generate little blue folders of paper. It’s what they do. It’s what they are paid to do. That’s the beginning, end and in-between of it all. And so, I sit, apparently calm, and wait until Miss Simmons does what Miss Simmons does to give Miss Simmons a sense of purpose in her other-wise useless existence. I am, only slightly amused… – 8h56 A trip down the hall. No list. Madame is sitting at her des, staring at her computer monitor. It appears… important. – 9.06 The list is up. Missy’s hour are “9-5”. Charming. – Some shit-baby signed before me! It’s the way of this hole: shit first… just like an arse-hole. WELL! WHAT A DAY IT ALL BECAME! – At about 9h30, Simmons called the guy ahead of me. He wasn’t there so? Me! My turn! In I went to be greeted some-what kindly enough. It was Simmons and a new face. A ’White” face. Youngish woman. Simmons introduced me to her. She introduced herself as “Jaimie” First Name! Hmmm. I asked what her “position” is in all of this and she told me “Social Wok Intern”. Social Worker! Liz! Oh no! So I told her about Liz, her degree, her job currently. I wanted to settle the issue of where I stand with Social Workers. Then came the “business” and Simmons tells Jaimie “I think I’ll give you this one.” (meaning to pass me along to the intern. What? I’m a trinket?) We had to review my entire chart/file. Simmons does all on the computer and, of course, “all” was missing so we had to build my history. But all through MY appointment WE had to deal with interruptions: Code 3’s, acronym explanations, policies, &c. Did I mind? Not at all. It actually showed me how much of their system I’ve learnt, and it showed Simmons how much (almost… never let them know “all”) I know. Although she did put me wise to the “60% savings” account: It MUST be separate and used SOLELY for savings… no with-drawls! Well, this should prove to be some fun. I’m just hoping that I’ll be able to open the account in 4-5 days. I don’t’ want THEN handling MY money! Anyway, meanwhile… We all 3 had some good laughs about most of what goes on around the place. Simmons says she’s going to push Medicaid (“You have COPD!” “Yes.” “Are you on medication? Doctor’s care? Have Medicaid?” “no.” “You NEED Medicaid!”) Says she wants to commence the “housing” part of my file. We’ll see what she gets to actually “do”. Especially if I’m handed-off to Jaimie. As the old tune went “But it’s all, in the game…” – By 11h17 I was in the loo, with Kendall. I needed a smoke. I’d gotten my linens whilst waiting for my “call”. So I went to the dorm, got me together, shoved the lines into my locker and tried to salvage the day. – All said: the morning went delightfully well. Let’s see where Simmons & Jaime go from here. – 15 bus down to 14th St., walk to Union Sq. for the Q to Sheepshead Bay. 99cent shopping! It was chilly and damp out so I took my time browsing. Managed to get a book to track spending, calendar for ’09, pencil sharpeners, soaps, air freshener. Necessities in existence. Then, I didn’t know where to go/what to do. Back to the Q. On the trip back I decided to browse Pearl on Canal. Funny thing: when I came up to the street on Canal, I was on the “Uptown” side of the subway. it turned my sense of direction all wrong! I’ve always come on the “Downtown” train! How programmed, ingrained it all becomes to us over time. But, again, a casual browse, got what I wanted and left. – As I started walking East for the bus, I decided to try calling Angel. What do you suppose? I’m all the way down on Bowery… He’s up on 34th! We decided to meet on 3rd Ave at some point. he was walking. I grabbed the bus. I don’t know how, but he managed to make it to 14th and 3rd in the time I took the bus to 24th and 3rd, bought a pack of cigs and walked to 30th and 3rd! I phoned him. We agreed I’d meet him on 14th. “What side of 3rd re you on?” I asked. “The left side.” “East or West?” “I’m facing the traffic. it’s going in… SHIT! It’s going in both directions!” “Never mind.” I’ll find you when I get there.” I walked this time. Well! The reunion at 14th was just spectacular! I was SO Happy to see Angel and opened my arms to hug him and did I ever get a hug in return! THIS, dear Creation, IS “FAMILY”! Neither “has” or “has not” in the common sense. But what we DO have is a mutual bond of survival and abandonment. Those who once claimed to care for and about us, those who professed some “love”, those whom we loved or cared for or cared about simply dropped us into the Great Pool that is Creation and left us alone. We had nothing, no one and no where to go and ended –up in an in-human, and inhumane society of the public shelter system… where we have… each-other (those of us who are fortunate enough to find each-other). It was wonderful seeing him again. One of his first statements was “I miss you, man!” And that was a mutual sentiment. We are more than “friends”. We’re Comrades. We walked down to E.3rd and talked. He’d been walking all day, looking for work. (No easy tasks: walking in the cold looking for work in this economic void.) I wanted to make certain he te. As it was before, when we were both at 30th Street, he wanted to make certain I ate. He invited me to come in to eat with him. I declined on the grounds that I had food in my locker. (I just didn’t want the hassle of going through the machinations of metal detectors and security there AND back at 30th Street.) I waited inside the door for him and watched the routine of a different shelter. It appeared more civil to me. Less vulgarities (although Blacks will be Black and incapable of civil communication no matter what or where. A White woman chastised a Black for his repeated use of the word “fuck”. He behaved as if she was insane. They just can’t comprehend. Stupid bustards.) I talked with the “guard” about the differences between there and 30th St. After an hour, Angel returned. We trolled over to Washington Square Park to sit on a bench… on a cold December night… to talk. He’s sad that I was alone on Tksgiving and will be for Christmas. I told him how and why I’m better off away from family and friends. As I told him of my own history to homelessness, he told me he’s still writing his own life’s story, in spite of spelling troubles. But he understands why I feel better alone and, after a little encouragement from me, it seemed he felt a bit better about being by himself. Hey! I don’t’ try to destroy other people’s sentimentality. I only try to make it easier to live with. – He walked me to the bus stop on 1st, the bus arrived (too) quickly. A firm hug and the day was done. – On the bus ride back I wanted to cry: He has family! How fucking miserable of them to let him be in a shelter! Me? I’m so very fortunate: no “family” and no “friends… no “attachments’ and no disappointments. I’m so very fortunate. – Back at 30th, it was the regular: The room smelled awful (the air freshening gadget can’t compete with Brindou’s odour!) Geo. came in slightly drunk. He put on the radio. Brindou finally left (he htes the stations Geo. puts on). I enjoyed the fact that Brindou was disturbed. Kendall came by to tell of Harry. We all talked about our concern for the old man in 20 (his room is still the way he left it!). Some talk about the need to get laid. Some laughs. Some bitching. A pretty good balance. Sign-in. Bed-check. The end of another day… a splendid day.

WED 3. 111/80 19h58 D18 I don’t know how, but I slept last night! One (maybe two?) But I woke from a dream, yelling at Cyndi!
DREAM Angel and I had come to attend a wedding that she was orchestrating We’d both been invited. Angel came dressed in a suite. Cyndi disapproved of his clothing and attendance. So, as he came in, she snapped at me: “Look at him! Dressed like that! Is he coming to the wedding?!” I yelled at her “No you ass hole. he dressed like that because that’s how we dress in the shelter!” (I woke myself saying “No you fucking asshole!”) Rey heard “No” and “fucking…” something but he just figured I was dreaming. And so, the day began. – Mid-town library for another logged day. A bit of French look-up. Got a book on the history of “Canadian French” (due back Christmas Eve!) Off to work for a non-productive day of coffee and sweets. The Tretters are extending my 9 weeks! I can’t go on like this working on 9 hours! I have to change it somehow. And, I will. – Came directly back to the shelter to do some wash: 2 t-shirts, 4 pairs of socks. – I’m exhausted. it’s quiet in the dorm. Brindou and I. It had better be a good night’s sleep! I’ve got travel plans and libraries tomorrow. The forecast is for rain. of course it is!

THU.4 10h14 I am ensconced at the Bronx Central Library as I type this morning. I’m jumping ahead of myself in this journal here because the events at the shelter are coming too close to violence and I want this on-line in case… Nquoan Brindou is certainly not to be trusted and added to that this morning, some idiot came into the room, must have been about 2h or so, after knocking at the door and yelling “Bed check!” The fact is, he didn’t come in to check the beds. He just knocked on the door and yelled. Ray got pissed and confronted him. The idiot actually had the balls to tell Ray to go “Fk his mother”! Well, I too, would have taken a real offence at this and certainly, Ray did. SO her pursued the matter and apparently, the situation came to threatening. I was only some-what half awake when I saw the moron come into the room to note Ray’s bed number! This morning, when I got back to the dorm to dress to leave, I asked Ray about it. He said he was going out to meet the idiot and take care of the situation. The idiot actually told Ray “You won’t be on this floor tomorrow night.” (meaning tonight). – This whole situation is coming to the point where it looks like we have to start watching-out for our health and well-being in general. I’m not afraid of anything happening. I’m just cautious about the whole situation. There are some terribly disturbed people in this shelter and the administration does absolutely nothing about it. – Meanwhile, there are Afrikans wondering about, demanding money from people (the one in D19), taking the whole situation for granted, talking like foul-mouthed gutter trash and not one person does anything along the lines of stopping any of it. – The ceiling in the shower room (5W) has been leaking all night. This morning I had to clean the damned floor before taking a shower. There are people on staff who are getting paid to do this (the idiot “Bed check!” bastard for one) and who are leaving it all up to the residents. There’s a policy that points out that we are not to be forced into working in the shelter. This is forced labour, no matter how you look at it. – All said today, this situation is teaching me to be less tolerant and less kind to a great many people. There are, and this is blatantly obvious, those who SHOULD be eliminated in order to bring the world to peace and harmony. There are those who SHOULD be gotten rid of in order to bring the world to a better stance. And those who SHOULD be eliminated are very obvious! – Meanwhile, I return to my logging my written journal from along the way. I’m only on 2008.09.09 this morning and there’s much more to be done.
DECEMBER THURSDAY 4. 15h48 FAR ROCK LIBRARY. I’M TYPNG THE EVENTS OF THURSDAY, 11 SEPTEMBER (HAVING FINISHED WED. THIS MORNING…) WITH MUCH MENTION OF EVON AND AS I’M TYPING I HEAR “EXCUSE ME!” THE WOMAN BESIDE ME ASKS “ME?” AND NOTHING SAID. I LOOK UP AND WHO DO YOU SUPPOSE IS STANDING AT THE COMPUTER IN FRONT OF ME TO MY LEFT? EVON!

(*From written Journal)THU 4. 112/81 (Notes: Bedcheck. “Go fuck your mother” to Rey/H2O mop shower/BxCen 9h-11h/Bklyn Central/Far Rock/Evon at FRLib/back at 18h/Wash/nap/Charlie “Oh good! You’re alone”/Muscle “Foot fetish”/On Fri. 5. 10h36 Far Rock) Somewhere around 2-2h30, one of the shelter’s scenarios, showing what it is to be here: I’d been asleep (between breaks in sleeping) when the knock came and the voice yelled “Bed-check!”… but nobody came into the room to “check” anything. next thing I hear is Rey, in the hall, talking about “working people” and asking why somebody, who has no authority to do bed-checks would knock and yell in the middle of the night. Somehow, I drifted back to sleep in spite of the screaming. (I suppose I’m either getting used to it or I’m just breaking-down from fatigue… no compete sleep.) Then, when we were actually up, about 7h30, Rey tells me that the response to his statements was a “security” guard telling him to “Go fuck your mother!” When he responded, the fat-arsed prick who started the incident, came in to get Rey’s bed number and told him “You won’t be on this floor after tonight.” – So this is how the day began. The most shameful part of it, as I think on it all is that it’s so common-place that I almost have no interest in recording it. it’s just one incident of abuse in a barrage of so many and all days have some. The exception is when somebody on staff treats or addresses any one of us with any respect, courtesy or dignity. Meanwhile, we’re now faced with being concerned about retaliatory bull-shit taken by the lard-arse and his “security” moll. We, in 101, get along. Out immediate concern is Brindou. But we know what his story is. Nobody wants to have to deal with new bullshit. But, the administration has only one way to amuse itself or exercise its authority: move/displace/re-assign the residents… and they’re quick to do that… often, for no apparent or logical reason. – Time will tell. – More? There’s a leak in the ceiling over the toilet in the shower room. last night, the entire floor was covered by about 2cm of water! I left it. Rey insisted that somebody would come to mop it. Nobody did… until I did! At 8h, or so. there I was, mop and bucket, doing somebody else’s JOB, for which somebody ELSE is being paid! At wit’s end am I? Yoo betcha! But, the floor was clean for morning shower. And I knew it. – Out the door, into the world. Away from the madness. Into the insanity. Away! – From 9-11h I logged the journal at The Bronx Central library. A quick stop at Associated on Kingsbridge, primarily for coffee. (2$ cheaper than the Manhattan groceries!) and DuaneReade (cigs). On to the Woodlawn train to Nevins to the 2 to Brooklyn Central. – New Brooklyn library cards are out and we’ve got until march to change over. But I need official something with addresse! So… We’ll figure it. I don’t’ want to and cant’ afford to lose ANY library privileges, especially now, being homeless, and computer less (and so thankful and bitter to me dear, sweet “friends” and “family” for this experience.) – From Brooklyn Central back on the trains. Another trip on the Franklin Ave. shuttle. Oh! Hurray! (and shit), and off to Far Rockaway to continue logging. – Although I’ve taken the liberty of logging this “item” on 8539266 already, it’s worth the mention here as well: I’d no sooner completed the entries mentioning my into to Evon Haynes, back in the “Peninsula Days” and was somewhat lost in the memories associated when I hear “Excuse me!” I ignored it. The woman to my right responded “Me?”. Nothing more was said but I caught, from the corner of my eye, her staring at me. I looked up and there, at the computer across and left… Steamfish! “It’s good to see you, man!” he said, with a big smile. (If he only knew.) I finished my logging. I had a mission. We exchanged e-mail addresses. he asked if I still had all the information he’d given me when he left Peninsula. (I do) “Because you never know. Yunnuhstanwahmsayin?” He reeked of alcohol. Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s changed. – (D18 Sat. 10h55) I was back at the shelter by about 18h, a bit proud of the land I’d covered today and exhausted. But there was wash to be done, a nap to be taken. I did both. – At one point, Charlie came in, looked around and said “Oh good. you’re alone.” and made like he was going to close the door. Rape? Robbery? Murder? I just smiled. None of the possibilities would have changed much of anything, especially my out-look on everything. – Charlie drives me to nap with his machine-gun ramblings about everything and nothing, leaves. Next? “Muscles” comes in. “I never told you, but I have a foot fetish and I came down the hall and saw those (my feet) lookin’ so good. I almost came in and took a big chomp out o’ them…” – Ah, the things that are said by those who have no clue. (Truth? I just couldn’t stand either of them for any longer than I’m forced – by current situations – to deal with them. They’re nice enough but enough’s become too much. Especially C. But…) – And so, wash done, quick eats, a shower, “Battery”, sleep… or, what’s come to pass as “sleep” these nights… NONE is ever uninterrupted.

FRI 5 113/82 (On Sat. 6 11.46) After an on/off night’s sleep, up, shower, &c. and on the rails to “Home”. And to the post office. NO CHEQUE! It’s a small one, thanks to the T. family, a client who became an “admit”. But not getting a cheque is too much of a reminder of how this all got to be… this “Homelessness”. It ripped at me… PHYSICALLY. It took my “all” to stop the physical pain: my joints, my cells. It was an awful pain. It was draining. If I didn’t have anything I wanted to do, no place I had to be, I’d have dropped to the sidewalks or gone back to The Fort. It would truly have been debilitating, destructive. But I still have carfare through Monday on my card. I can still get to work. Ah, “work”. Friggin “work”. And no pay. I need t change that… soon… now… drastically! To the library. Another 2 pages logged and off to “work”. – Non-productive. H. isn’t making any progress 2 more weeks of this. Mary’s talking of extending it. I don’t want to. I need more hours. I need to see improvement. I need money! None of that will come by staying there. – After work, I called Kristin. “I’ll let you know when the last day comes.” And no news of more hours. So? Back to the shelter… – I came right in, finished my “food” in the locker. Another Saturday of fasting! But THIS Saturday, I’m going to do what I want. Another attempt at “21st Century Jewry” in the plan. For tonight? Laundry! Catch-up/ Sunday requires clean clothes. And so, the wash got done, I “ate”. – Brindou’s tchum came by. “I see you guys in here. You’re all cool. You get along. Why you pick on this one?” (pointing to 16’s bed). I made it abundantly clear: I pick on no one. We pick on no one. I mind my business, do what I must do for me and don’t bother with other people’s problemmes. I have no “sides”. And it’s true. All of it. I have neither need of nor use for enemies. Especially not in here. Tchum left. Charlie came by. Keith came by. Rey came back. Brindou came back. Geo. Came in, signed for his bed and left. People came. People left. – At one point, Charles and I were singing Gospel in the loo. Great acoustics. But I find that I have to truly make an effort to sing any more. I just don’t have “music” in me. Dead…

SAT 6 114/83 13h! Sometime after midnight, some fat-arsed Black bitch came down the hall shrieking “Bed-check!”, clicked the lights on, came into the room and stood there, looking. Noted Geo’s empty bed and walked out, put out the light and went on with her annoying shrieks. I’d refer to her as an arse-hole but that status is too high. Arse-holes are necessary and help with specific function. This moron is useless. – True to form and place, another night of broken sleep. But I’m getting better at falling back to sleep when the interruptions end. – This morning, 16 was on his phone at about 4h30. I couldn’t make out what he was saying (French) but there was reference to “cutting”. What? Who? I don’t’ know. But I don’t like it. And, at about 10h30, some “security” thing came to get him. A case-worker wanted to see him. No. I don’t like any of this. – And so, I over-slept until 8h! No synagogue. No post office. I cleaned my locker. Mopped the floor in my area. Charlie gave me 45cents for a cig. I’ve got 4,5 left! The radio is on. Geo. Is asleep. Rey’s been reading the paper. I’ve completely cleaned edibles out of my locker. We’re sharing the joy of sleeplessness with one who keeps us awake through the night: radio on, generally going through the day. I have a set of scrubs to wash and ALL my laundry (to speak of) is done. – The weather report is saying SNOW for tonight and tomorrow morning! Winter is coming. – 16h13 Showered! Laundry done. – Charlie’s become a complete mooch. Cigs this morning. Mirror now. Something. Always something. It wouldn’t’ be so bad if he’d come to GIVE something. As it is, he’s no different from those who got me here: take, ask, take… never offer, never give. I’m empty, damn it! – At the end, I finally got up, got out, got food. Over-priced, low fat cream cheese, yoghurt, butter-milk biscuits and a bag of “Dirty” chips from Louisiana. D’Ag. Now, my food stamps are low. Chas is low. The thing that pisses me off most? D’Ag has no selection of anything, it’s miserable over-priced and everything is low fat! But, I ate today. And I got out of the building… for a change. I needed that the most.

SUN. 7 11/84 (On Tues) FLURRIES!!!!! Nothing too much to notice… but FLURRIES!!!!! SOME SNOW! The crispness of the air. Empty streets. Blustery winds. Winter’s comin’! And I was up and showered, out the door and on the trains and up to The Bronx… at the Central library by about 9h30. On the rails, first thing in the morning. – The ride up Jerome is miserable. How the recent “residents” in that borough have managed to trash it! Paint! Paint! Paint! Tags. And just more pain all over. It’s a slip-back to the 60’s when the subway cars were covered. Today, the pandering and patronizing pricks in the boro government have made it a haven for their lowest-life vermin to breed and destroy. It all just reminds me of cancer cells, multiplying, unchecked, uncontrolled, destroying, disgusting and depressing. If my family had come to this country at this time I believe they would never have stayed. To think this place, The Bronx, the place I “lived”, the place I’ve left and returned to, the place I’m so fatr from now was once the place I called “Home” and was the place I’d always gravitated to. Now? It’s a place that disgusts me. My links, my ties, my “life” are all severed. Time to move on… Tome to move along. – And so, I got my time on the computer. Logged another few pages. I was off and away to Rockaway. – Smooth trip! Woodlawn line to Nevins and out to The Junction. – The sky over Tilden was broken: cloudy, clear. The wind whipped at me, against me, around me! It was the Rockaway I’d known from the beginning. It was truly “Home”. I saw Penelope’s car in front of T6. No more jubilation. No more looking forward to seeing her. It’s all changed lately. I’m detached from the “Alliance”, from the people there. Somehow I’m above and beyond it… them. But, as I thought, my dues are paid through this month… I’m entitled to participation and a place to sit until the dies expire. It’s a rather empty feeling. But it’s what it is. I don’t’ care and have no desire to change… especially not back to as it was. I didn’t dump them or disregard them. I owe no apologies. Concurrently, I expect none. – The reception by Penelope was “typical”… the effort she made to be her glorious, jubilant self was so very transparent. She welcomed me, without leaving her chair, as boisterously as she would ANYBODY. She forgets that I’m fully aware of her pretenses, put-ons, fabrications, lies. She’s no more happy to see me than she’d be to greet her alleged “Nubian ancestors” and I know it. But, I return the pleasantries of the moment. It’s useless to be other-wise. – I “settle in” a bit. There’s a cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table. I light a cigarette. “Be very careful who sees you smoking in here. They reported me and complained” she says. (OK Penelope. Kick one. Your point.) I continue my smoking and the front door opens. Tommy comes in, neither too happy nor disappointed to see me. Good greeting. He asks if I’ll be at tomorrow’s general meeting and holiday party. When I tell him I won’t, he asks why. Rather than going into the curfew (again) I just blow the subject off. (Truth is: I don’t feel a camaraderie there any more and have no particular interest in participating in some “do” I don’t feel particularly welcomed at.) Tommy leaves. He’s working over in T149. He comments that there’s an “Access A Ride” outside the door. (I know who it is! I just KNOW!) I get up, go to the loo to finish my cigarette… in the bloody LOO! The door opens. Penelope whispers “Look who it is! Don’t get caught with that (cigarette)!” Moron that she is, she didn’t know who it was… A fat thing hobbling with a “Rolator”, over-bundled, walker over-packed. Albert Green! Yes! I KNEW it! Come to play his guitar! No escape. But I don’t’ care any more. (Ah. What I’ve learnt about not caring, from my days at the shelter… for which HE is quite and mostly responsible.) Neither greetings nor acknowledgements of his existence from me so I don’t know if any came from him. Not that it matters. HOWEVER, as I was preparing some hot tea water for Liz G. (with whom I enjoyed the day tremendously), lard-brain Green comes to the table beside me and says “So what battery are you living in?” Maintaining my own dignity, and simply for the sake of a reply so as to let the obese retard-in-breed know that I actually heard him I softly said “This one.” And let it go at that. The sack lumbered away to the corner where it situated itself on it Rolator, preparing for what was the perfect demonstration of stupidity that only a Green of that species could carry off. – Dan G. tried a few songs on his guitar. A guest guitarists who sounded like some mixture of Leonard Cohen and Gordon Lightfoot attempted to entertain. Both songsters were soured by the horrific overly loud, terribly audible twangs and off-key plucking of the moronic imbecile behind them. It was an atrocity second only to any historic genocide of worldly proportions! Green obviously had his own agenda as not one string he plucked gave a tone in tune with anything else played. – Well, I still thoroughly enjoyed Liz G’s company. We talked about writing, The Wave, politics (of BC), play on words, art, you-name-it. She’s a fascinating and delightful person, and magnificent company. – Readings: 4 of us got our turns. I read 1 “Rockaway” piece and 3 gutsy “pissed” pieces including “On Monday” and the piece on “Presumption”. I got my point across… even if it was missed. – Penelope had left at about 13h30 so, at 16h, Dan and we were expected to clean up. We “tidied”. I was offered rides (to the bus). I declined. My association is diminishing. I want nothing from anyone “RAA”. My “membership” has done nothing for my art. It was a year’s membership to provide an education in what is NOT necessary. – So, as the sun rapidly took the day-light with it as it retreated somewhere out beyond Breezy Point and New Jersey, I boarded the Q35 to The junction to return to the Hotel Hell-hole. – As I recall this evening as I write (Wednesday the 10th at 19h39), it was a “typical” evening of stench from Brindou, George blasting KTU on the radio, Rey trying to nap, me grabbing something to eat, sign-in, bed-time. – But, all said? What a fucking day! – I’ve decided: The Greens are too active and participatory in the RAA and, considering I’m in this shelter because of them, primarily and likewise have lost my computer, CD’s, files, books, clothes, &c. primarily because of them, I will NO LONGER support the organization with my dies but will use the premises as I need to when I’m in Tilden. Hey! I wanted non-affiliation in Rockaway anyway. There it is.

MONDAY 8th December

TUESDAY 9. 16h11 right now, I’m at the FR Lib. It’s been a DAY! I should be logging the written “Monogram” but so much is happeneing at this juncture that I can’t… I have to get this down as it happens… – This morning, C. was back at his recent turn of affections. I was miserable tired, having gotten not nearly enough sleep last night and really wanting to trun back and go to sleep. But I was supposed to have an appointment with Simmons (my C.W.) at 9h so I had no choice but to wake. And so, coffee taken, and no BM at the crapper, I headed for the shower. Brindou somehow beat me to that and so, I had to wait… in the loo, with C. – At a while, Brindou leaves the shower and I head in… and so does C.! BUT, it was after the shower when “IT” all hit… the affection turned physical. He was “obviosuly” sincere about the gestures and the touching. I could see it under his towel. (I hoped he couldn’t see my “appreciation” under my towel, but I was in a position not to really care at this point.) He kept asking me if I understood that he has “issues” and reassuring me that if I felt uncomfortable with the situation, I should tell him and he’d stop. I just said “I’ll be thinking about it.” – I got to the dorm, changed and headed for the “lounge” to wait for Simmons. Well, an hour passed and still no sign of Simmons but Jaimie was there, at Simmons’ desk so I signed (when the list finally went up on the wall, at some point after 9h) her list and waited longer. – It finally got to be after 10h. I have things to be done and there was no sign of Jaimie or Simmons. I went to the door where some old guy told me that Simmons wasn’t coming in and that nobody was taking her cases today. (Thankfully, my “Meal Ticket” is good through next Tuesday so I don’t really NEED them at all… A good feeling…) I went back to the dorm to get ready to leave. C. showed at the door… waiting for me. I talked a little to Ray who commented the truth (as he and I see it so far): C. appears to be a very little child caught in a very large body. To me? C. is, as he puts it, lonely and vulnerable and probably coming off some kind of long-term high from who-knows-what. (I keep this in my mind at all times. It’s not that I don’t trust him… it’s just that I don’t trust him… and why should I? He’s on parole. He has appointments with his P.O. I don’t know what the particulars are and I certainly don’t see him as a “Relationship”… although a “Release” would be just great at this point. Still…) So C. waited and walked me across to 30th and Madison and we talked. He says he’s had the one fling with the mother of his daughter. He’s 50 and the daughter is in her late 20′s as I recall. He says he doesn’t know exactly why he chose me, but he just felt a “magic moment” and a “sparkle”… and he trusts me (that I won’t discuss our talks with anybody else). He acknoweldged that the shelter is no place to conduct anything toward anything further but that there may present some situation or circumstance where we might be able to at least sit, get affectionate and he’s looking forward to that. (Well, truth be told, me too.) He talked about getting a single dorm and we could spend some time together. – OK. Facts here… I dont’ trust him. I know he’s hardened by life and turns. I know he’s capable of some pretty petty and hard actions (he felt no remourse about taking some guy’s cell and using it as his own and I’m sure it would go further… even to things of mine). I also believe that he’s probably thinking of what HE can garner, financially or otherwise, by a liason with me of any kind. I believe that most of them in the shelter think that I have resources and that I have the capability of busting out at any moment. I believe they all think that there’s some financial benefit afforded me some-where. And I believe that C. believes that too. Ah… if they only knoew how stupid those presumptions are. Meanwhile… I gave C. a hug in front of Levine’s bookstore on 30th and I went in, and he walked east. – Now for some GREAT NEWS! I HAVE MY SIDDUR BACK! Levine’s had it, soft-cover (as I discorvered last night) and so, today, I bought one. Why? Because I feel a little closer to “whole” with it. I feel a little closer to “value” with it. And I’m happy with it. The purchase left me with only 10 dollars to my name until next pay. But I feel that it was one of my gratest investments in ME! and my life. Today, I’m one step closer to getting back to my life the way I want it. – Siddur in back-pack, off to Brighton to the beach for a stroll and a good mind-clearing. Then, to the library where I got my “new” Brooklyn library card. I’m “official” there again. No loss. – Got a 30 minute session on the computer and back on the train to here where, as I walk in the door, who do I see? “Steamfish”! Drunk, as usual. He’s telling me that I’m his “bro” and that I’m a good friend. He’s glad to see me. He brought up the incident with the attempted murder (from our Peninsula Days). He tells me that Brian’s wife stabbed him badly but that he doesn’t know where he is. Alas. And he’s pushing this book “The Secret Servant” by Daniel Silva again (as he did the last time). As I wated for the computer here, he had me all over the place, so I had to wait a bit longer for the computer. – As I’m waiting, a Jewish guy comes up, strikes up a conversation, tells me he wants to start a book club of sorts here in the FR Lib. and would like to have me join. Says I strike him as “Post yehsiva”. Well, the nice lady at Levine’s and I got along swimmingly (she, Orthodox and appreciateive of the Conservatives). – So that’s the day. I’ll probably note more in the written journal and post it here. But I had to get this part done before it disappeared. (And… just in case something should happen to me in the event of C.?) – (On Wed.10.12 9h07 MMLib) When I got back to the shelter, there was a queue, of course. But it went rather quickly and I was glad for that because my Food Stamps had been posted and I did some shopping at Associated (Far Rock). FOOD! I thought I would have to go with-out. Anyway, I made it through with no trouble and as I climbed the stairs to the 5th floor, I passed Brindou. He was dressed in a jacket and slacks, carrying a bag. WhenI got to the dorm, George had the radio blasting! He was in rare form… He’d managed to have Brindou re-assigned to some other bed on the 4th floor! Well! There was some elation but, as is usual for the lesser of brains, they never thought about what might come along to occupy the bed. Sure enough, a 60 y/o White guy comes in and proceeds to tell of his quad by-pass and show the scars. Rich (name) asks me if I mind classical music played low. Of course I don’t mind… played softly. He has a radio. He gets together as much as he can and settles in with radio playing softly. This displeases Ray (of course). “Are we going to have to listen to opera all night now?” OPERA? OK. No class. No sense. No brains. I opint out that it beats having to listen to that KTU bull-sht all night and that it’s NOT “opera”, it’s “calassical” and he should know better. I lost it, I have to admit. I went into a small tirade on how the working class in the shelter are paying taxes which pay for the shelter while the others, who won’t work and pay taxes “Ride the Jew”. I thnk I got my point across. I went for a smoke… I came back… I was exhausted. I tried for some sleep… hoping for some sleep… It was NOT to happen…

WED 10. 9h13 MMLib – It wasn’t much past midnight when Useless George came in, drunk, as is common. Bang. Bang. The locker opens. Crumble. Snap. Crinkle. He opens some sort of package. Mumble. Mumble. Mumble. He and Ray are discussing the music playing. It disturbs Ray. Too fking bad, eh? I’m hearing it ever so softly until… Useless George goes to sleep, at long last, and then it begins!!!!! SNORING!!!!! Just like before! ALL BLOODY NIGHT! FROM 2h46 THROUGH UNTIL, IN COMPLETE EXHAUSTION, I PASSED OUT TO SLEEP… UNTIL 6h15 WHEN MY ALARM WENT OFF!!!!! NO FRIGGIN SLEEP ALL NIGHT AGAIN! The useless, the jobless, the effortless, the worthless get to rest and the working-class suffer. So, as I type this, I’m miserable. I’m tired. My head throbs. I could fall asleep right in the midst of this typing. These are the times that remind that we MUST get out of this dump! – BUT, on a much better note… This morning C. waited for me to shower. Before and after we got to begin our exploration of potentials. A little nip-to-mouth (“Oh yeah, you know how to do it…”) and a little fondling and a setting-straight of “uncharted territory” which was respected. It ended with a tongue kiss. Can you imagine? Something I’d only thought about and never thought it could really happen? Well, well, well… Too bad it couldn’t be completed. – So here I am, ready to kill something and the whole day is ahead of me. I’ll be off to Lefferts when I leave here and then to work. Tonight? Sleeping aid! Early. I have to eat something too. Let’s see. I don’t dare to hope. –

WED. 10 118/87 19h46 Just waiting to sign for the bed. 2 sandwiches, 2 PopTarts. Orange drink. Washed 3 pairs of socks. Talking with/to n o one. I’m exhausted! I just hope these new “Rest Simply” tablets make me do just that. ALL night. – C. dropped by for a brief moment earlier. What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to jump his bones tonight, thoroughly exhaust myself, wrap me around him and go to sleep! I’ve given the situation between us much thought during the day: Relationship? No. But physical? Oh yeah! – On that, I could use a smoke. Let’s see how THIS night can become yet another fuck-up. (Hey! I wonder if my “Ride the Jew” comment offended anybody. As if I care a crap. Truth: I don’t’ volunteer my taxes, they’re ripped from me. I WORK to pay them. They in turn, pay into the pot that pays to provide this shelter. Those who don’t work, benefit on the backs of us who DO. Fuck that! – Oh. Note. I nodded right off at Tretter’s today! Shit! – 10h16 A little something for the Journal. Every week-night, round-about 20h, the (a)cleaning crew comes round, pretending to “clean” the loo. Between 5 and 7 Black men (tonight, a young woman accompanied… Why? In a MEN’S shelter) co and buckets, spend between 3 and 10 minutes yelling, laughing, banging in the loo and they leave. These are the “Wildcats”. They’re paid for and expected to clean these loos. Truth of the matter is: If we didn’t have Rich, no cleaning would ever get done. Rick’s “purpose”, it seems, is to clean. He told me once: “I didn’t grow up in dirt. I’m not going to live in dirt.” Even in a public shelter, there are remnants of dignity. – So tonight, I’ve eaten, washed my socks, taken my 99cent sleep aids.. Tonight ,I hope for sleep. – C. has disappeared for the night. Geo. I wonder. Was I not enough? Too much? Ah well… – (Thu. 10h BxLib) At 23h46 I was still awake, lying in bed in a sweat. George was reading his paper by the light from the hall, Rey was quiet, Rich (Brindou’s replacement had awakened and was rattling plastic, banging about in his locker. Out in the hall, the niggers (and there’s no endearment in that term!) were yelling, cussing and complaining. I laid in the bed, silent, trying to figure where I could go, on a rainy night, to get sleep. Trains? Parks? Beaches? Tilden? As I pondered, I dozed off. I’d taken the sleep aid at about 21h. 3 hours later? Still awake! And pissed.

THU 11 119/88 10h10 BxLib. Bowels bad today! But I made the best of what I had of a day of rain. Out of the shelter and to The Bronx Central library from 9h30 to 11h! Logging the journal. Then, out to Brooklyn Central for another 30 (or so, or less) minutes. out to the rain again and another 2 to the Shuttle to the A to Far Rock Library. yet, another hour of logging. – In between all of this? As I stood waiting for the Bx9, Kristin called to give me a client… right around the corner from Tretter! Another 3-hour day, but I was glad to have it so close to the one I already had! Of course, things being what they are, by the time I got to the A FROM Far Rock, it was cancelled! Back to the 9 hours per week of Tretter. The doors keep closing, the windows keep opening and I keep getting shoved out of them. (And I’m writing this on Fri., 12.12 at 19h23) So? As always, I plod along. But, much logging was accomplished. I take comfort in that. – As the rains subsided tonight, so too, the temperature. Winter is trying its best to conquer. Thank you Angel, for the jacket! – It appears I’m on some sort of shit-list in the room. I get a silence or, when I speak, blunt replies. Too bloody bad… for them. No doubt it has something to do with my “those who don’t work” comment. Fact is, there’s no reason why George and Rey don’t work, aside from being leeches on society. The way i see it now: I’m working, paying taxes that pay into this “shelter system”. All I get from this “system” is a place to lay down at night (not necessarily to sleep) and a place to shower. I ask for no more. i received no more. Meanwhile, they eat, sleep, drink, clothe, get fresh linens regularly… FREE AND CLEAR! Riding on my tax dollars. Fuck them! – When I got in, and through to almost 23h, Geo. had his radio blaring. I don’t even get “calm” after a day of being on the move. So? Fuck them! The day will come… My day will come. – Kendall’s talking about leaving here tomorrow. “They” found him a studio in Crown Hts. his departure will leave a very large, very noticeable void in the every day life around here. He left his phone number. I’ll try to keep in touch. – Got to see and talk with C. this evening. he said he made himself scarce because he wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want me to see him that way. In the conversation, he mentioned something about clothes. When I said I too need good clothes, he spoke on going to the bars, hooking up with somebody for a night and acquiring necessities that way. OK. It runs through my mind and at moments, I actually feel almost entitled, considering the ways I’ve been through. but, but, butt… I’m always thinking: he’s into me for something… more than the companionship. So, that’s fine. I’m not into it for “Love” of any kind. And if I’m wrong about it all? Well… I’m wrong. That all there is to it. – At about 20h I took 2 sleep aids. The night didn’t close until past 23h. I put my head on the pillow and with great difficulty, drifted off…

FRI 12 120Homeless(about four moths!)/89Shelter(GOING FOR 3 MONTHS!) 19h59 I am SO BLOODY EXHAUSTED! When I got in from the day, the only thing available to eat: 2 rolls and some orange drink. I wolfed that down even before getting out of my scrubs! Then, changed into blue scrubs, got water, wash some socks and under-wear, hang the wash, grab a smoke. My eyes are burning. I’m EXHAUSTED! – Ah, the day… Beginning with something around 3h this morning, Rich (16) starts moaning in his sleep! Next thing, he’s in this locker, banging shit about and dropping more on the floor.
I don’t know when it finally stopped but it went on for a while. Me? I finally drifted back off to sleep. – The alarm went off at 6h15. I woke at 6h45. Morning smoke, tiny dump, brush teeth, hot shower, dress and bolt! Plans were: PO, Lefferts library, work, cash cheque, the Hotel Hell-hole. Plans were blown to bits! – I took my normal route to Broadway junction but this morning, out of curiosity (and believing I had the time) I stayed on the L to the end… Canarsie. And in Canarsie, the real day began: 8h43, Kristin. Do I want a morning client? Well, YES! ANOTHER 3-HOUR X 2 DAY! Howard Beach. OK. Fine. 6 hours more is 6 hours more. Time? 9-12! OK. I’m on my way… AFTER the post office. Back on the L to Bway Jct to the A to the Shuttle to Rock Park P.O. and NO CHEQUE! 6 cigarettes and NO CHEQUE! AND ONE DOLLAR to my name. Oh well. nothing could be done about it. To the Q21 to H.B. – It was just past 11h when I arrived at the new client’s. Ah-hah! No Care Plan. No Nurse. No nobody. No anybody! Husband and wife. Out of “position”, I spoke with the wife, did an assessment, told her of her rights and potential increase of hours and coverage. As I’m “engaged” in some Home “Care” (to put it delicately), the Nurse arrives! I continue… with MY duties whilst Mrs. and Nurse discuss in further detail, the items I’d mentioned. Results? 4 hours x 5 days! BINGO! 20 HOURS MORE PER WEEK! Next week: 29 HOURS! (I’d phoned Tretter before getting to the new pt. and Mary said not to come at 14h today. THAT WAS another “gift” of the day. if she’d wanted me to come, I’d have been working until 18h30 or so and not had accomplished…) At 14h30 I clocked out. Kristen had called to confirm M-F, 8h30-12h30! Everybody’s happy BUT as I clocked out, Mr. G. took a dump. I worked an extra hour. But too, Mrs. sent a neighbour out for coffee and she paid my coffee AND a toasted bagel with cream cheese. So? So. I left at about 15h15 for the Q21 back to The Rock. At the post office (at about 16h) THE CHEQUE! Elated, I got the train to The City. – My god! The sun-set was truly magnificent! Not the red-orange but brilliant white, gleaming on the bay! Breath-taking! (Homesickness grabbed my chest.) – Back at the Hell of Manhattan, changed the cheque, walked to Hotel hell-hole, got a pack of cigarettes, came in. Nobody at check-point. Fujardo was actually pleasant (full moon tonight). – Got into the room and ate my rolls, changed, did my wash. – When I came back from the wash at 19h23, the stench was just putrid! Rey seems to believe that his little game of flatulence is acceptable. Well, perhaps in his little island home “his people” enjoy inhaling the odour of each-others’ bowels. perhaps they all agree with it. If so, he should return. meanwhile, I wonder it it’s not some act of aggression against me. If so, not much of a problem. I’m hoping to request a room with “Working Class” people at my next meeting with a case worker (tomorrow morning). I need sleep! I don’t’ need children. – Enough of that. At 20h30 I took my sleep aid. (It’s 21h35 now). – At 21h20, “Ripley” came by to inform Rey that Brindou is on the floor. – Kendall is getting his hair cut in the hall. “Muscles” is doing it. Kendall’s looking quite “clean”. – No Geo. No Rich. Peace… for the moment. I’ve faith that they’ll both be back to ruin a night’s sleep. Rich is about somewhere. He’s signed for his bed. Geo? I’m fed up with the shit he pulls all night, disturbs sleep and lays in bed all day! I’m just fed-up with most of this shit. – But, it’s time to read the Wave and try for a nap tonight. – Hey. No sign of C. He went out (or so he said he would) at 23h30 last night. – I almost forgot: A letter from Chex System arrived today… MY NAME’S CLEAR! MCU HERE I COME!!!!!

SAT 13. 121/90 10h39 Almost unbelievable! A night’s sleep last night! Up at 8h40. Rested! A brief shower. Very brief. C. A quick lick of “spice” this time. A quick encounter with Simmons about Tuesday. Clean skies. Very brisk day. Now? Out and wing it. – *NOTE ABOVE. MEETING WITH SIMMONS* – “Winging” consisted of getting on the train to Parkchester library to find Jeanette. I was really looking forward to seeing her today. But, when I asked the charming moron at the desk for her, Ms. moron snapped “She don’t work here anymore.” Well, what did I expect? I was being “Revolutionary” by being out and about on Shabbat, wearing my kippa. Zap! I got it. Still, I wasn’t destroyed. I simply headed back to the train. Called Jeanette and left a message. I hope she’s Ok. I hope she’s got a warm home, a way to pay her rent and food. I care. – Whilst on the train, I decided to hit the Midtown Library just to do a bit of research on “Speech Therapy” and post-stroke therapy for Mr. G. the new patient. 6 books later, and not much info, it was 16h25 and I was walking to D’Ag’s for cream cheese, yoghurt, V8 and cookies (meal-time). It was cool, not too cold. Great walking weather. I enjoyed it. Until… – It all came to being back at the Hotel Hell-hole. 17h20 or so, the door to the room was open, lights were out. I flipped the light switch… the 3 of them, fast asleep! Fuck! Not one of them works. Geo had been out all night and now, here it is, sleeping? I left the light on, came in, opened my locker, prepared my sandwiches and ate. (I finished the whole jar of V8 too.) – Washed 2 T-shirts, pillow case and towel and, as I was beginning to settle down? BM! Emergency! One of these “clean-outs”. It’s uncomfortable but I’m happy when I get one where I can just “go”. – And so, C. came into the loo. he’d been sleeping too. He’s bummed because he’s got no money these days. I’d give him some (carfare) but he managed to go out the other night. These guys are interesting: Never have money but can always mange to get enough to get drunk or high. Meanwhile, I’m working and can afford carfare, a pack of cigarettes and not much else. I’ve learned one thing though: I DON’T HAVE SO I CAN’T GIVE anymore. Period. – And now, at 19h55, I’m on the bed, stomach grumbling. Rey is fumbling about, Rich left a few moments ago, George is laying in his bed. It’s relatively quiet, so far. and I’m anxious about tomorrow night and sleep. Ever since the days of the Cow, sleep has been important… and rare. – I wonder if my emphysema will grow to lung cancer. I wonder if it will take me down in about 2 years. – When I cam in the evening, I had a nice chat with Vivian, the Greek guard. She’s a piece of work. I like her. – I could use a nap until sign-in. I wonder if I’ll be afforded that luxury. Or is it reserved for the non-employed? – No nap. 20h42. Signed. Stomach still churning. The unemployed are here… and awake… of course. The hall is a-buzz. They do nothing all day, all week and then do their best to keep the rest of us down. Ah, the life. So I took my sleep aid and will try to try for some sleep during the night. Weill it happen? I doubt it… I always doubt it. Hopefully this won’t be much longer. And, as I’ve said (written) in the past… I have my “Option” and 8 days to Winter! Ah… the beach… and Winter.

SUN 14. 122/91 After a night of limited sleep, I got up, bolted for the door, out to the street. A chilly Sunday morning in The City. How I’ve come to hate being here. But by 13h, I was out on the grass of Tilden… and no Penelope! Oddly, I was a bit happy about that. As I walked across the Parade Field it came to me: My membership expires at the end of the month and I have no intention of renewing. it’s done me do good, being a “member”. No exhibits. No “promotions”. The 25$ would be better spent on a weekly MetroCard or the phone. I’d been so happy when I joined RAA a year ago. I still don’t know why it never got posted to their books when I gave the application and cash to Penelope. But, it won’t happen again. – In T6, Janet and 2 women (sitters) were there. I took my pencil sketches to the “library” and sprayed them with some fixative. Sadly, it was too late. They’d smudged. but they’re still OK. Janet asked me when I was going to exhibit. I felt like telling her the truth: when the board members take the elitist stick out of their arses and face the reality that 25$ is a hardship for the “common artist”. But, as is my general belief… it’s not worth the effort of saying. I let it blow over. – Geoff came in… Haircut! Imagine. Told that P. has strep throat. Mentioned something about calling her. Right. Just as much as she called me during my 3 weeks in Peninsula. As is said in Montreal: “Fukdat!” What a new me. – Speaking with the 2 other women I learnt that one was raised in Tel Aviv! She told of the old Ramat Aviv (open, open spaces) and how all is built up now. Herzeliyah, Netanya… high-rises, Israel has become “American”. How very, very sad. – The day went to evening. The Writers’ Group met. I didn’t read. Martha Killian did. An old piece about food washing up on the beaches of Breezy… something I’ve now heard for the 3rd, maybe 4th time. When Dan suggested “Spoken Word” events at openings and receptions, Martha shot the idea to death, favouring the RAA! A Breezy retard elitist. What a crock of shit! And me? I’m “Rockaway” enough to resent it. Well? Yet anther reason to keep my “dues’ to myself. Nepotistic in-breeds. My original intention of going to Rockaway was to get away. I’ll go back, and stay away. but that month of “living” and “residing in The Fort gives ME the upmanship that the rest don’t and never will have. The Fort will always be “home” to me… without them. – And so, at 18h30, as I walked out toward the bus, waves crashing against the beach off in the dark, Tilden really was “Home”. – Q35 to The Junction. On to a Nr.2 train and suddenly… As the doors were closing I HAD to jump! My bowels were about to give way! Up the stairs, down the street, into Target. JUST IN TIME! The fatigue and stress are taking a toll on me. Malnutrition too. Got to the toilet and was afraid I’d never be able to leave! Painful. Bloating. Pressure. About 20 minutes, unable to get up. Little by little I’m falling apart. Little by little. – Finally, back to the train, tried to nap, tried to hold my bowels. – By somewhere around 20h I was back to the miserable reality of the Hell-hole, needing sleep… I tried. I took 2 of the sleep aids I’d bought this morning at the 99cent Limit (Yes, that right! I’d gone there before going to Tilden! – I’m journaling this on Tues. at 21h51. – I’d gotten soap, sandpaper – for my feet – a pkg of cookies to eat. Then took the B36 and Q35. How could I have forgotten? How? I’m EXHAUSTED! – Meanwhile, the 3 shit-heads of 5W-101 managed everything possible to keep me from sleep!

MON 15. 123/92 IF I got 3 hours’ sleep all night it was a lot.. 15 and 17 chatting. 15 SNORING on into the night. 16 moaning, tossing, In and out of the locker. Snore. Click. Clack. Bang. ALL BLOODY NIGHT! When my alarm went off at h51 I could barely sit up in bed! Geo won’t work. Rich can’t work. Rey doesn’t work. None of them seem to WANT to work. And so, their nights go on and on and in complete selfishness. A group of utter waste! This place is another attack, attempt to kill me off! And what a lesson on the failure of humanity. Worthless. The lot. – But I managed my morning and was on the 6 buy 7h06. I clocked-in at exactly 8h30! at the new patient’s. Anthony was glad to see me. Ida was relieved. It was a “heavy” day of work. My heart throbbed and my eyes burned. Miserable misery! But I made it thought. – When I left Howard Beach it was terribly warm. I was glad that Mary cancelled today. I was sweating… from the warmth of the day, my jacket and fatigue! I looked forward to getting to bed… BUT… somewhere along the line I decided to try to open an account at MCU whilst I had the opportunity. So, at Bwy Jct I grabbed a J to Chambers and in I went. Well. Journal news for today: CHEQUE AND SAVE AT MCU! It took some time but IT’S done! I’m relieved! Truly relieved. Of course, now I wait for the US Government to grab the accounts too. There’s always that albatross around my neck. But for now, for the while, let’s see. – Train to 23rd. Quick food at Morton Williams on 23rd. Walked up to the shit-hole. Ate. Ate. Ate. – Of course , I wanted to sign-in at 20h30 and go to sleep but the Useless wouldn’t permit that… At 23h George decided to stroll in and bang about in his locker. And the rest of the vermin in the halls decided it was “Chit Chat” time. ANOTHER BLOODY FUCKING NIGHT OF NO CLEEP! So, I put into the journal, the basic Truth and Fact: The butt-holes who are employed here will insist that residents must find work to re-establish their independence and lives. BUT, THE ENTIRE SYSTEM IS RUN TO THWART ALL EFFORTS AND ATTEMPTS BY PLACING THE WORTHLESS WITH THE WORKING SO THAT THE WORKING CAN’T POSSIBLY HOLD A JOB! I AM BURNING WITH HATRED FOR ALL OF THIS AND BITTERNEDD TOWARD THE REST OF THE WORLD! WHY I SURVIVE I DO NOT KNOW! BUT I DO KNOW THAT I’M SLOWLY MOVING FROM BEING HATEFUL TO BEING “HATE”!

TUE 16. 124/93 SNOW!!! SNOW!!! SNOW!!! (and, at 22h25, George is reading his fucking paper, Rich is fucking about his fucking locker, Rey is on his fucking phone, the fucking light is on and I’m going to have to fucking try for fucking sleep A-FUCKING-GAIN! TO-FUCKING-NIGHT! (Margin notes: 21h59 Geo eats. Rey on Phone. Rich just in, in locker! – Sec: bag on belt Other sec. Tell him to shut the fuck up. Simmons at 14h45)

WED. 17. 125/94 Up at 5h51. No BM. Run to trains. Arr’d morning pt. late x 15mins. Good morning. – late to PM pt. x 1/2hr. nothing’s changed there. No progress. I can’t really care sine the fam. Doesn’t. I just don’t have what it takes to care anymore. I’m exhausted! Not enough sleep. Not enough to eat. – Too much coffee at T’s though. Nauseous en route to the shelter. Took L to 1st and M15 to 23. Chicken nibblets, hot dog rolls and Fage at Morton Wm’s on 23rd. Walked to 29th. At when I got in. – Rey and Geo spoke this evening! Both talked about being depressed… generally because of the shelter. Rey claims that George is looking for work. Well maybe but one wouldn’t know by the hours he (and Rey) stay awake until with the lights on! This morning, somebody put the light off at about 1h! Tonight AGAIN, after 24h! THIS is kill me! Work, travel, no sleep. The whole system is an insulting farce.

THU 18. 126/95 11h46 at G’s. He was rather abusive. Mrs. Took some time away. I sat, in silence with him for a bit over an hour. Of all the day! I’m exhausted! Not being able to sleep is killing me! Killing me. – Mrs. Returned. Calmer. She’d gone to church. Escape. How nice for her. Me? I haven’t been to services in months! No time. No energy. No synagogue. – This morning I got here at 8h23. Transport is tragic. Undependable. I was sick. I was tired. My bowels are painful. – When G. went off and Mrs. Left, I contacted D.RN. The violent out-bursts are “typical”. More to follow? No doubt. But I have to hold this case! I need the income! – I left at about 12h40 and Mrs. Wanted me t o help her hoist Mr. up in the chair! Always “more time”. T. does the same thing. But I squelched G. and am doing the same with T. No more! No more extra time! No more “freebies”. – Grabbed the Q21. At the P.O. the box rent comes doe on the 31st. ANOTHER 43$! Fare hikes. More taxes. No pay rise. It’s getting to me. There’s no sense in any of it. I’m working. I’m dying. My clothes need to be washed. – Waldbaums. The quiet of the store was so welcome. The prices have increased! More taken from my pay! I was hungry. Tired. I got meats, rolls, donuts, Little Debbie Bavarian Crème rolls, yoghurt. To the shuttle back to The City. The L is running slowly! I’d eaten the 6 Little Debbies. Too much sugar. No sleep. No rest. – I thought I’d nap, do a wash, go to the library. I ate and was asleep by 16h or so. – Woke just past 20h. Filed my nails. Signed-in. Had a smoke. -22h01 Took my sleep aids. The lights are on. George is asleep, dressed. Rey is on the phone, slamming the window screen. 16 (Rich) isn’t in YET! C’s been bugging me about not seeing me in the morning. You know? I don’t’ care. – Weather forecast for tomorrow is rain. Clouds, Saturday. Snow, Sunday. – All I’m hoping for now is to pass out cold and deep and all night. The phone is charging. Alarms set for the morning. I’m hungry. Sleepy. There’s a new idiot on the floor: screeching in the halls. These idiots yell the length of the halls all into the night. – Tonight? NO NOISE PLEASE! I’m exhausted. I need sleep. Leave me alone and let me sleep!

FRI 19. 127/96 (Margin notes: Barbara, Debra, Dennis!!!!! 17h19 Rich tells me Simmons is looking for me. Socks, T-shirts washed) 10h18 at G’s again. Mrs. Is out to “get us kawfee.” Mr. is at table. I’m in a LOT of lower back pain and in no mood to even chat. BUT THERE’S A FLURRY! THE PAPER FORECAST SAYS 3-5 INCHES DUE TODAY! I just wish I could enjoy it. But last night I slept through right up until just before the alarm. I’d taken the sleep aid on time I suppose. By my hand-writing for yesterday I appears I was groggy. So, sleep was had for one night. – Today, in the elements, I’m hoping to make the P.O. and T. all on time. Hope. Ah, fuck me now. No sense in not trying. – If only I could move my bowels regularly again. I’m in more pain that I care to tell. – Left in great time this morning. No stress. – C. is upset because we don’t meet in the morning before I leave. Me? I’m happy. I have no time… no time. – 18h29 D18 IT SNOWED!!!! I made it out of G’s by 12h30. Mary T. phoned to say that, if I couldn’t make it to them, I shouldn’t worry about it. I thought I’d try to get to the P.O. and there but told her I’d try to see how it went. Well… Walked up to 157th Av. for the Q53. The snow was coming steadily. I ducked into a recess for some little bit of protection. A guy ducked into the recess immediately beside and lit a cigarette. “The smoke’s not blowing in your face?” I smiles and said “Don’ worry aboudit.” (I head my own ‘merican English. It wasn’t impressive… But it was appropriate… to “Howid Beach” anyway.) “Thank you.” he replied. The bus arrived in short order. The crossing of the bay was great! Snow and clouds and the bridge. Broad Channel was a little holiday card: snow all round. Rockaway was a heart-ache. SO BEAUTIFUL! In a decent world, in a compassionate world, I would have been headed “Home”, to a hot lunch, big blanket, music, water-colour, rest, peace. But those worlds don’t exist, so I was rushing through the place I call “Home” and am being kept away from. At 92nd, I looked up in a rather empty bus, to see BARBARA! A FACE OF HOME!!! She said she’d seen me get on the bus but couldn’t catch my eye. We talked about the weather. She told me there are rooms available in her house… “view of a brick wall, 4 feet away…” I asked “Waterproof?” She laughed. “Yes. Waterproof.” (Good time to “Home-hunt” now.) No tourists or seasonals! I thought.) We rode to the end of the line. She was going for some lunch. “It’s awfully good to see you.” She said. And in the sleet, we parted ways. It was 13h11 already. I headed to the P.O. – As I walked in the door, there, queued for the service window… DEBRA!!! A hug. A kiss. Edlyne screwed her out of 12 hours pay! Bellanton is STILL getting away with her incompetence and bull-shit games! Debra has to make the rent up somehow because of this shit. How familiar! How I wish there was something I could do to make Edlyne Bellanton pay for her bull-shit. How I do hope and pray that she suffers homelessness and severe hunger, for many years to come. Not just for me, but for each and every person she’s screwed with. – It was just so beautiful, seeing Debra. And to add to the delight of this Wint’ry day: paycheque of 9 hours AND the MCU debit card were in my mailbox! How about that? – Debra and I parted… she to Waldbaums and I to the shuttle. – I called Mary T. “Do you get paid if you don’t work?” “No. But don’t worry about that. Do you need me?” “No. It’s nasty out now and it’s going to get worse. Go home. I’ll call Kristin and tell her I don’t want you to come.” Another “gift”. I got the train and headed for cheque-cashing. – Today it was exceptionally difficult leaving Rockaway but… – I’m dozing on the A as it pulls into Grant and I hear “Judah!” WELL MY GOD, MY HEART, MY LIFE! Dennis b.! Dennis!!! On the a train! He looks great! Gained weight. We talked about things “on the inside”. He’s seeing a White girl in Port Jervis! He’s still so polite and courteous. And it was so up-lifting to see him. (Even though he’s straight. But I’ll never forget the Dennis I walked to the train that night he got transferred out of here. Good. Kind. Sweet Dennis.) I rode to Bwy-Nassau with him (instead of Bwy Jct). We talked some more. He said he’ll call me after 21h tonight and maybe we can get together Sunday and talk. I won’t plan on it… but I will hope. A hug and we parted. – As I headed to the Lex line it struck me: As warming, wonderful, truly miraculous as it was to see him (and Barbara and Debra), my heart doesn’t flutter or dance foor Joy any more. Where tears would flow, dry eyes. There’s a part of a sensitive heart that’s GONE! I’m not so happy about that. I’m hardening… like the rest of the world. I’m dying… like the rest of the world. I really AM “bitter” now. The toll has been taken. But, in any case, in any event, the SNOWS brought BEAUTY into my existence today. People who have NOT hurt me. They’re out there, and it’s good to see them when I do. Good people… who have NOT hurt me. The SNOWS brought them today. – The 4 to 14th to the 6 to 33rd. Cash! A MetroCard for next week. 6 at 33rd to 14th to the L to 1st. A pack of cigarettes. The M15 back to Hell. As I waited (and waited, and waited) for the bus, 4 kids were playing with the snow. 3 Asian girls and an Asian boy. Snow was flying every-where. (and slush was falling from the sky and filling the streets. The storm drains in this city/hole don’t’ function. Mass transit doesn’t function. It’s a cesspool of “non-function”.) When ti hit me for the 2nd time, I went over to the little girl, tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss. Look at this! If you don’t’ stop right now I will do what your mother should have done a long time afo. And believe me, some people are going to be very un-happy.” Point made. It stopped. I retunred to waiting. – It was something around 16h30 when I returned to 5W-101 to find THREE sleeping the day away! How bloody charming! How fucking charming. They sleep. – I ate! And as I finished, at about 17h19, Rich comes by “Your case worker Simmons?” “Yup.” “She was looking for you.” OK. Thank you. I went to wash my 3 T’s, 10 socks and under drawers. She’s looking for me? I’ve been here… HERE… and hour. She doesn’t see anybody after “4”(16h). I saw her Tuesday evening. She sends people to tell me she’s looking for me? I’m working Ms. Thang. We have an appointment for NEXT Tuesday. See ya then! Shit! – And so, at 20h03, the room is a most delightful empty. George is out (getting drunk as he does regularly… no doubt). Rey went to dinner and hasn’t returned. (Dominoes on 4?) Rich is suffering a miserable cold and went for some treatment or something. The Spics are yelling in the halls as are their Black comrades. Me? I’m looking forward to my sleep aids, sign-in, maybe a call from Dennis, sleep. Tomorrow? It will take care of itself now.

ST 20. 128/97 17h59 I come in at 17h30: Room id darkness. Ray and George, asleep. I’m hungry. Rey waked. Says put on the light. It’s no sooner on, C. comes by. He’s been in all day… sleeping. I get water from the loo, prep my sandwiches… Charles come in, right to the locker, stench of urine, starts with “What do you get when…?” I ask to eat in peace. He asks for “2 chips”. I actually said “No.” Me! I said “No”. Told him it’s all I’ve eaten all day. He says OK and leaves> I mean: FUCK! They lay in bed all day, getting up for FREE HOT MEALS! I’m out WORKING and going AND USING MY FOOD STAMPS for food! I should share? I ask for nothing. I get nothing. I give nothing. The oddest bit? The fattest one asks for food! Margot? You and Charles should be together! Creation wouldn’t stand a chance! – 20h25 OK. I’ve eaten. Blue scrubs washed. Floor mopped. Feet sanded. (The coarsest paper worked wonders! I should have done this years ago!) The day: I slept until about 8h, from about 22h last night! Only one interruption when Muhamed’s chum got caught sleeping in a single down the hall. He barred the door somehow. When “security” came round, the bitch couldn’t open the door so she called in the troops. Tee hee hee. Big t’doo about it for a bit and back to sleep. – At about 10h, shower and C. (whom, I suppose, was hoping for a bit longer because he followed me, waited until I’d done for a fondle but I had plans and they didn’t include time in there). By 11h, out and to the Far Rock library. I got about 1,5hours on a computer and could have had more but I thought I’d go to The Bronx library this evening for more logging. (Didn’t thought.) By 15h11 (on the A at Mott) I was tired and hungry. Went to 14th to the L to Union Sq to the 6 to 23rd. Walked to Morton Williams for food. Cyndi Lauper sand “Early Christmas Morning”. My bitter hatred grows all the more all the time. I walked up to the S-hell-ter where we had to come in on 30th. The fat little Black guard who spread across almost the entire width of the entrance just muttered “30th Street” as I tried to enter. So? So to 30th. Where I was “wanted” and brought to the scanner. My back pack was a bit too intimidating. I climbed the stairs to the 5th floor. – In the “lounge”, 4 or 5 guys sitting or lying about. One of them stinks to the point of gagging a passer-by.- And so, that brings me to where I opened… – 20h49 C’s her talking about women, shorts, string thongs. The man has major troubles. Yes, he did say he’s bi. But I really don’t need to know nor do I care to know. – Actually, I just want to sleep.

SUN 21. 129/98 18h33 1855 Rich got talking Attica. Panhandling. Ailments. Illnesses. All I wanted to do is journal. But, I do suppose it’s about helping each-other in here and if listening helps my room-mate, then I can’t begrudge him the time. Ah, but when anybody gets talking about “friends” and “family” I begin to wonder. These guys are in here, in a shelter for the homeless. Where are the “friends” and the “family”? Me? I’m thankful to be in here, away from “friends” and “family”. I’ve no obligations to any of them and they’ve no obligations to me. In fact, in retrospect, and now, as I think of it, these are, quite honestly, some of the better days of my life. This year I honestly don’t care if John is making his mortgage, if Joe is warm in his garage, if Cyndi is working 1, 2, or even 5 jobs, and Tony is paying the bills. I don’t care one way or the other. What I do know is that I don’t’ feel any obligation to send any of them any money… or anything at all. And so… – It was another night of good sleep last night. In fact, I woke early enough for work without the alarm! Rolled over and went back to sleep. But about 9h30 I headed out, in a cold rain and went up to The Bronx Central library. Today I got about TWO hours on line! And I managed 2 or 3 more pages on the “logging”! Got a pattern for kippot. Now all I need is the cash to get the supplies. Stopped at the market on Kingsbridge. Meals for tomorrow, cream cheese, mustard and relish. FOOD for today AND tomorrow. Back on the train at about 14 or 15h. – When I got up from the L on 14th and 1st, the sun was shining! A great mood lifter. – At the Hell-hole, the entrance at 29th was closed. Coming in from 30th I got to notice how beautiful this building truly is. What a shame. It’s gone to such disrepair. But it, like the world, is allowed to rot because of stupidity… This could be such a beautiful place with a little care. But that’s what’s missing in Creation… “Care”. Alas. And so, coming is was a breeze, in spite of having back-pack and jacket rifled-through by “security”. They were pleasant enough about it. The funnest part was the lift: 1 to 4… stop… 5,6,7… stop… 6… stop… 5,4,3… stop… 4,5,6 and the door didn’t open until the 6th floor. I got out on 6 and walked down to… EMPTY ROOM! (But no to be enjoyed for too long…) I made my peanut butter and cream cheese sandwiches (2). Rich came in. I ate. He ate. I washed the teal scrubs and today’s socks. – C. came by. Sparky little mood. Still, it’s fun and games. Et another interesting fact: no heart in any of it. No heart in anything at all! Oh well. Bound to happen. – So, now, at 19h40: no Rey, no George. Loud Spics in the hall. But it’s kind of settled and peaceful. – Oh, Before I forget: Chanukah! (I didn’t bother going to the lighting on B116th at 16h. And… I don’t’ regret it at all!)

MON. 22 130/99 (at 10h on Tues. Dr’s Office. Cross Bay. Howard Beach. Mr.G.) Bway day. 2 clients. G. and T. Slept through the night, thankfully. – G’s was a somewhat typical day. Mrs. Is quite disorganised and strung. But it isn’t getting to me. I’m not sure if the shelter helps the work or the work helps the shelter or if I just don’t give a shit about anything any more. But, it doesn’t get on my nerves any longer. As for T., coffee, cookies, schmooze. One thing keeps going: Joey and his inappropriate remarks about Jews. Again, shelter, job, what-ever. I almost pity both families. – It was quite the cold day too. 13degreesF at Rock Blvd this morning. Windy too. Waiting between cases was brisk. But sunny skies made it bearable. – 29th street was open this evening but the idiots and morons were bunched inside the door making for some chaos. What would a day be without chaos? There has to be chaos. Yet, a wonderful delight in “Operations” as I went to get my toilet paper… The woman who helped me and remembered my name back in September was at the desk! Truly, it was so heart-warming to see her. How I wish it could have been under better circumstances. Still, it did my mood a world of good! Gave me strength to carry on. – So up in 5W-101…

TUE.23 131/100 DAYS IN THE SHELTER. After a night of good sleep without pills it was a morning of perfect timing. From leaving to train to train to train. Got to Rock Blvd on time to catch the bus, but it would have gotten me to work too early. So I let it for the next bus. Mistake! Next one was late, I got to G’s late. And that’s when it all went to Hell! G. was in an argumentative mood. Mrs. Is so disorganized. Mr. had 2 MD appointments. Mrs. Made travel arrangements only yesterday. Getting to and from MD was a horror! Neighbour Ronnie helped with the lifting but it was difficult, to say the least. Bu the time we got back to the house I was ready to quite. And I think the fat MD with the piss-poor manner is Belgian! He spoke French on a phone call and the name is German. So that just hit my mood and attitude the wrong way too. So, trying to accomplish anything in a disorganized house on all the carpeting and Mr. howling at me and Mrs. Snapping at me, I was drained and ready to run. Of course, at time to leave, Mr. decided to take a dump and I give more time for free. – Out in the cold for a 41 bus, due at 12h44 it doesn’t show until after 13h. I’ve got to see Simmons today! Well… to pay for the liquid morning commute, the A was late, the L was slow. I got in to the Social office at 14h49! Signed the sheet, ran for linens, never took off my jacket. I sat. I waited. Reid saw me. Went into her “office”. I sat. I waited. Half hour or ore went by. A guy from the dorm down the hall comes. He signs the list. I’m 10th he’s 11th. He tells me (I’d been sitting in “the lounge”) Simmons is sitting at her desk, laughing with the other “case workers” and doing nothing. I’m not in the least surprised. She wouldn’t do a thing if she could get away with it. He asks me to go to the office with him where he knocks on the door and calls Simmons, who sits at her desk, annoyed about the knock, looks up and says “Who is it, knocking on the door?” I lean in so she can see me. She says to come in. So now it come to: We have to sign the list, keep our eye on the bloody cow and go to her all the time. It used to be a mater of signing and waiting to be called. They’re making their job (job?) easier for themselves. They don’t actually want to do a damned thing and they strive toward that… to success, for the most part. I did go in and almost fell, tripping on the chair in front of the desk. No room to get in and sit down. Simmons barks “Don’t fall there.” I should. I really should. But I just move the plastic bag from the chair to her desk. She mumbles “Did you bring me the receipt from your banquet account?” And proof that you opened one?” “No.” “Why not?” I haven’t had a chance to get to the post office lately because I’m WORKING. (But I had my pay stubs and passport as was discussed.) “You were told and I wrote it down that you have to bring me the receipts from your account. You didn’t do that so I have to document that you’re out of compliance.” I blew her off, gathering my papers/documents to toss on her desk. I give her pay stubs
, passport… I find the deposit receipt for 5$. “Where’s the rest?” Of what? “The paper-work for your account?” In my mailbox. “What’s the account number?” I don’t know. I only have the deposit receipt that I gave you. (Besides, the account number’s none of your bloody-fucking god-damned business! Do you believe that I’m THAT stupid? You have my soc. Sec., date of birth, I should give you my ACCOUNT number too? Go shove it!) “I need…” I blocked the rest until she went to Walked (Mr.), a supervisor. She tells him I’m only bringing in the 66 per week and paying carfare out of it. She asks if I’m supposed to save 60% of the 66 or 60% of what’s left after carfare. He asks how many hours I’m working and rate of pay. Ponders. Then he tells me to save as much as I can, bring in receipts for MetroCards (to they know I’m not partying or drinking away my pay. As Walker told me “You can tell us you don’t do that. But we have no way of knowing…”) At that point, I pulled-out all of my MetroCard receipts. Simmons says “You’re a receipt saver.” So I told her “For every one step you take, I make sure I’m 10 steps ahead of you.” All she could say was “Good. That’s the way to be.” So, she gave me my meal ticket until next Tuesday. One friggin week. Her “Power Card”. And aI told her “I make sure I get to work every day, in spite of getting 45 minutes ofd sleep most nights because of somebody who couldn’t take a job if you handed it to him because he has to go out every night and comes in at 1 or 2 in the morning, drunk, banging his locker and chatting on the phone, and another one who claims he’s too ill and fragile to work. But, I stay where I am and do what-ever I have to do because I know the devil I’ve got but I don’t know the Hell I might get.” And so, Simmons copied my pay stubs (those I gave her), the MetroCard receipts AND MY PASSPORT. With that, I was dismissed. – The remainder of the evening? Change into my jeans, walked down to Associated (Morton Williams) on 23rd. En route, Duane Reade for a pouch of Bugler so I have cigarette until I can get my cheque. Got chicken patties for tonight and tomorrow, Buddigs for Thursday, rolls yoghurt and jelly donuts. A walk down. A walk back. Eat. Chit chat. Laughs at the staff (and some of our fellow “residents”). C came by a few times. At one point he said, quietly, to me, “I’m not a very likeable person.” No. he really isn’t. but hearing him say so bothered me. And when we were having a smoke in the loo he said “I don’t know what it is about you but every time I see you… it’s like ‘Hello. Boing.’” And he grabbed his crotch to show me. I chuckled and said “I don’t know why. But it’s a great compliment.” And yes… it certainly is. I’m old, homeless, bitter, disheveled and yet, I can have that effect? He’s not the hottest man on earth. He’s certainly not the worst either. The “effect” is mutual. I don’t’ know why. But what works for me is that I have no capacity for romance and so, I just go along with what-ever happens. Imagine. No capacity for romance. Oddly, It’s true… deeply and honestly true. And I don’t’ even care… And I’m not going to change it.

WED 24. 132homeless/101shelter 20H18 5w-101 d18 Christmas Eve. A quick and easy morning commute to the richness of Howard Beach and Mrs. G. over-whelmed by being ill-prepared for everything. Mr. G. less argumentative. Mrs. Went out for some shopping. Mr. had a friend drop by while Mrs. Ws out. The friend phoned the some on a speaker-phone. I sat in the next room and heard more vulgarities from the son and the friend than I hear from the trash in the shelter! Imagine that! But the morning went right along. I avoided Mr. as much as possible so there was peace. I’d arrived and clocked-in at 8h20. I clocked-out and 12h28. It was still raining when I left but not so cold. Good thing. The Q41 came at about 12h45, got to Rock Blvd at 13h03 and the wait brought me to T’s at 14h48! – The “visit” at T’s was the usual delight. Cookies and coffee. Mary prepared me a bowl of “toepfel-noodle”: pasta with cottage cheese, salt and pepper… served hot. DEElicious! H. and I chatted. Steven and I chatted. Joey threw in his usual inappropriate remarks. But I’ve come to realize that they enjoy my visits more as a friend than a health-care person. Truth be known, I enjoy the association with “Germanic” people. It’s a comfort t o me. – As I was leaving, M. handed me an envelope with a card. “It’s just a little something from all of us.” I accepted it most graciously. It touched my heart… no matter what was or wasn’t in the card. How kind… how truly and wonderfully kind of them! I waited until I got on the L to open it and to my absolute utter and complete amazement… a crisp 50! The card made to “Dear Judah”. Truthfully and truly, my heart is still alive. It hit me. Here, these strangers, think so much of me. Not my family. Not alleged “friends”. But THESE people… THIS family! How wonderful to be appreciated! How magnificent. I’ll never be able to express the appreciation and gratitude. It’s awesome! – As I came into the shelter, Rich (16) was standing on the avenue. I stopped to chat with him. To think: not so long ago I bolted in past that entrance so as not to be seen. Today? I dare the world! I dare them all! – In the door, up the elevator with some gnat-brained Spic who held the buttons for 5,7 ND “Door Close”. Of course, we passed 5, the shit got off on 7, the elevator went to 6, some idiot got on, the damned thing passed 5 and I had to get off on 4 and walk up. Well… – Before eating, washed socks and unders. – Keith came by to chat as I prepared the 2 left-over chicken patties from last night. George made ANOTHER arrangement to be out all night. Meanwhile, Keith had requested (a while ago) a pass to attend weddings and was told, if he left for a day or so, he’d lose his bed! (When I went to sign this evening, Rich was at the desk. HE signed for George!) Let me try once and see what happens. I’ve nothing against George other than his selfish bullshit, coming in drunk at 1 or 2, banging about his locker, talking on the phone and such, but, enough is too much and privileges need to be evenly distributed or stopped! What to do? I don’t’ know. But shit. This will be on-line. Peter Lipinsky is to blame… Holding the bed repeatedly. Favouritism. Let George WORK for the fucking favours. – 20h58 the Russian retard from next door is back at the loo, smoking, yelling in the hall and slapping some shoes together. Rey is on the phone. Richs(16) is out again. There’s been no sign of C. Him? I hope he’s OK where-ever he is. Me? I’ve taken my sleep aids. Hopefully they’ll be able to work through. I’ve for the alarms set for 5h30 tomorrow… And so, this is Christmas Eve in the Bellevue men’s Shelter. Where’s Jesus Christ now? Where’s the “Messiah”? Who died on what cross for what reason an for whom? Yeah… Right.

THU 25 133/102 10h05 at G’s. Mrs. out for coffee. I’m with Mr., alone. He’s dozing in wheel chair at table. I don’t speak so to avoid confrontation. I’m in no mood. – Christmas? WTF? What the difference? None. – I woke at 5h30 with the first alarm. By about 21.30 last night, I was asleep. Slept through too. Thankfully. Showered, shaved and such this morning and was out by about t6h30. – Nobody on the streets on the way to the train. If I hadn’t been in The City, it would have been beautiful. But, it was The City and, well I appreciated the quiet. Immediate Nr.6 to a 10 minute wait for the L for a 5 minute wait for a LOCAL A. But an immediate Q21. I arrived to work at 8h20. Wake a half hour early to arrive at about the same time. – The skies are clear. Cool breeze. Warm temperature. I should be on the beach, alone! Not here with this unappreciative Swamp Guiney. (Mrs. Calls me Judith and refers to me as “the aide”!) I’ve got headache just from being here (for a bloody 12$/hour!) The streets were empty this morning. Even Cross Bay. Such serenity! But I’m not allowed to enjoy it. Christmas? WTF? Well. Another 2 hours and this trip is done. I just hope I can hold out. – Oh. Nancy, the Physical Therapist, asked Mrs. If I’ve been exercising with Mt. Mrs. Told her “No.” I clarified that no instructions were left for me, and that, with-out them, I’m not supposed to take therapy upon myself or my decisions. Now I get to wait for this Nancy to contact me with some bull-shit. – 18h58 (Back in the shelter) I escaped at 12h30 to a beautiful day. As I waited for the Q21 at 162nd Ave on the Boulevard, I rang Jocelyn. She was getting ready to go to work. Said she’d been wondering if I’d been sick because I didn’t call here. Yet another one: I’m supposed to do all the keeping in touch. Yes, well… Another one. – It would have been a perfect day to pas on the beach, but transport was slow. By the time I’d get to the shelter and back, it would be time to get back to the shelter. So? I got the bus to the trains to the bus to the shelter. – George was still very much asleep when I arrived at about 15h. I made 2 peanut butter and cream cheese sandwiches (the cream cheese from when? Tuesday?) If I’m sick, I’ll know that cream cheese doesn’t do well in the locker for that long. (By the way, Mr. G. was quite ill this morning. Stomach cramps, the runs, very thirsty.) Chocolate drink with sandwiches. – Rey came in and George woke. Rey said Rich was asking if I’d worked today so I dropped by to chat with him a while. C. was no-where to be seen. Came back to my bed and decided to nap. And so I did… til just now, as I write. – Christmas… in a shelter… Christmas. – George and Rey are here. The floor is just as usual. I was thinking of doing some laundry. I thought. I didn’t do. I’m just tired and perhaps a little lazy. But I done care, rally. It’s like that now: I just don’t care. – Tonight I thought of a song played on the Spanish FM station, recorded (several time) in New Prospect. Tonight I think of my afghan. I think of Noel. I think of art work, photos, souvenirs. Tonight I think of the Chanukia, made by Peter, a gift. Tonight I think of the dregs, the shit, the worthless cretins my mother gave birth to, the useless, miserable waste that is them. Tonight I pray that they are repaid for the horrors they caused their mother, for the lies they tell about her, for the disrespect they give her. And tonight I pray that they experience the painful side of my existence… for which they are so responsible. Christmas… – 19h28 George is reading the paper. Rey is on the phone. Rich16 is still not around. Keith came in earlier, on his way out for a 40oz Budweiser “night cap”. No sign of C. even as yet. And me? I’m looking forward to signing-in, taking my sleep aid and hoping to sleep through the night. Tomorrow is Friday… a double day of G in the AM and T in the PM… and rain in the forecast. No rest on Saturday: out to the post office. And another week gone. Next? Comes a new year, with old tortures and terrors. 2009. From then to 08.10. Look how close to 55 we get! It’s just there… on the horizon. I can see it! – This morning I thought: How lovely that those who’ve loved me so much for so long have looked for me. To them, I’m dead and gone. To me, I’m dead and alone. Here, these idiots keep in touch with “friends” and “family and at the end of each and every day, this shelter is where they lay their head. Loved so much. What bloody-fucking bull-shit! – I’m sneezing and my tummy’s cramping. No time to be sick! I’ve done (almost) a 29-hour week WITH holiday pay! I’m going for a brass ring! Fuck the world! I won’t miss tomorrow!

FRI 26. 134/103 2h10! At 0h57 George came stumbling in. BANG! The locker gets opened. A few moments later, BANG! Shit falls out of the locker. Next! Rich(16) is awake. Moment later, George is fucking with his cell phone: blip, blip, beep. Now Rey is awake. It’s time for the chain to go down. Lipinsky and all. now it’s my job, my income, my chance to get out of here. Now the “War” is declared. –I have a 3-hour nap left to this night. I’ll try for it. Then? Figure how to be quick, sharp, effective. Start with the director of this shit hole, a mayoral note, and watch the shit trickle along. Israel fights it’s wars quickly. It’s time I did too. =- I’ve got hick-ups now. Time to finish this game. – 10h30 (at G’s) I got up to go pee and told George that I’ve had enough. now his inconsideration is fucking with my income and so it is now “War”. he didn’t even acknowledge me! I told him that the “Holds” and signatures will be mentioned. He continued to ignore me and fuck with his phone. I went to pee. When I got back I tried for the nap of a few hours but couldn’t sleep. At one point, I half dreamt:
Working in hospital. Had to get to work but was too tired. Tried anyway. Got the bus but it rant too late. Started walking. had to climb some old stairs that brought me to somebody’s front door. As I climbed each step, the ground under it crumbled. (This part happened twice!) At the second climb, I told the owner of the house that i could fix the stairs. His wife showed me their gardens. Purple passion growing all over. Some was twisted in wreaths, on stakes. I was supposed to go to work but didn’t want to. I had to hide from people from the hospital. I got to the bus stop. it started to rain heavily. I thought about going to work but was just too tired. I woke up.
It was 5h39. I gulped half of my coffee, got my cigarette and such and bounded for the lo. Stomach cramped and head throbbing! A quick shower. Dress. Out! Keith was in the hall. He commented that it was 6h30. I told him I’m fed up and done with the bull-shit of being awakened by the bloody drunkard in the middle of the night when I have to work. Yesterday he’d told me of how he asked for passes to family weddings and was told that he’d lose his bed. This morning he said he has a form that does to “Operations” to report George’s bull-shit and he’d give me a copy. Well. I’ll file it! WTF? Maybe I’ll be reassigned. At this point? I don’t’ care any more. – I was at Rock Blvd by 7h45! The buss came almost immediately. My guts were in knots. – By 8h15 I was at G’s and clocked-in. He was very down today. It hurt me to see him that way… the verbal abuse isn’t pleasant, but the timidity just didn’t seem right. The physical therapist came today and put him through her programme. he did the very best he could but being so arthritic, his joints popped and snapped. It hurt me to hear it. But he tried. When I left today, Mrs. G. said “God bless you” and “We’re gonna miss you over the week-end.” It brought tears to my eyes to leave them today. – Got to T’s by 13h30-some. I couldn’t’ thank them enough for their generosity but they responded as if the 50 was just due me. They gave me 2 slices of “New Park” (Howard Beach) pizza, cheese cake, cookies, coffee. I talked and laughed with Herman. They’re becoming “family” and treating me as such. How strange. I know it happens, but it still has a strangeness to it. – When I clocked-out tonight I put in for 6$ transport. I’ve done a 29-hour (full) week too. it’ll be interesting to see what I net from this. – The trip back to this shit-hole (it’s 21h06 now) was a horror. I actually dread it now. “Hate” is the word for it. But I’ve resolved to speak only when necessary. No more being “friendly”. When I got to the dorm, the drunk was in. I went immediately to washing my t-shirts and socks. While doing so, the drunk (George) (who was, at 18h30, drunk already) was being given the “fight Satan” lecture by Rick. Why Rick even bothers is beyond me. It obviously didn’t work. The shit-drunk doesn’t have the guts to fight anything. Just so useless. I finished my washing. – C. came by. he was looking for 2$ for carfare to get to The Bronx. Ah. So. it comes around at last: I’m working so I’ve got money. But when I said I had none, he let it ride. So I wonder… Maybe he does want something more, something better. I hope not. I truthfully don’t have what it takes (and I don’t’ truthfully want to get it back either). But we did get to sit quietly and talk. just about likes and such. What happens and where it goes is to be seen when the time come. Meanwhile, I’m still flattered by it (and I still don’t’ understand why I’m so attracted to him. But I am.) – Put on the fresh linens tonight. I should shower but am too laze. – Rick signed for the drunk because the drunk was out cold, snoring. But, at 21h06 “it” woke, got on the phone, yelling “Oh shit!” repeatedly. I’ve already taken my sleep aids with some “chocolate milk”. I’m not hungry and haven’t eaten. Hopefully the cold-cuts will be OK for tomorrow… and hopefully the weather will be good enough for lunch on the beach. – My left hand is painful tonight. my stomach/bowels too. it’s 24,5degrees in here and I’m sweating. The sweats come every night now. it’s the anger of anticipating disturbed sleep. And the Spics and other shit-trash of the cesspool that is this place are doing what they do: yelling in the hall. Do-rag just strolled in looking for Rey. Says he went out this morning looking for a job and mocking him for it. Lesser people would (and are) pulled down by all of this. there are those who are worth nothing but being “kept” in this cesspool, this septic tank. Me? I will NOT see my existence end here, like this, like them. I fight for my Mom, who Loved me, cherished me, suffered for me. For her, I’ll win and move on. – 21h29 Rey’s back. I hope he has good news… for his own sake. – And the dregs in the hall scream on. I’m learning selfishness here. Ayn Rand said it’s good to be selfish… I’m learning that she’s right. – Last night I read some prayers for sleep from the siddur. They were answered with the misery that was this morning. Tonight? I do not pray. Rather, I take it into my own, will do what I must for me. Tomorrow, at 5h30, the alarm will sound and I’ll be out and on the rails, away from here, away from the Spicshit and useless dregs that inhabit this septic tank. For my Mom, I’ll make it out of here. For me, I will NOT become part of the bacteriae and viruses that are crawling the halls here. Now, I’m working and paying taxes. I’m paying my way here. Things are changing, things will continue to change… for the better. – It’s going to be a difficult night (again). But, as my Mom would say: This too, shall pass. – When I left Mr. G. today, he said “Thank you.” When I left Herman today, he said “Thank you.” SAT 26. 135/104 7h35 on the L To Rockaway. AT 7h15 THIS MORNING, ON THE CORNER OF 29TH AND FIRST, I SAW A ROBIN! – 19h36 in 55W-101. It’s 26,5degrees in here! December? Where did it go? My head is like a lead weight on my shoulders, my left hand is cramped. I slept for 2,5 hours when I got back. Ah, when I got back. Now there’s the story for today… Meanwhile… I got out to the post office on a dreary sort of morning. The silence of Rockaway was a magnificent tonic for my soul. A few people were at the service window and in my little box, several pieces of mail… amongst them, my paycheque for 158$ and 70 cents. I’m finally working for some kind of money again. Not very much. But some kind. Included, an envelope from Partners with a pocket calendar for ’09, my PIN for the MCU card and a rejection/denial from Medicaid. This rejection is about the 4th this year. How the useless get it and I, who want to work for a salary, can’t get it… It’s the way the system works. It’s the way the System functions. Well? It’s going for ’09. 12 months of that and 8 of 10. only 20 more months to go, and then, to go. No sense fretting it. And so, to Duane Reade for a pack of cigarettes, a package of lighters and a bottle of vitamin C. (I’m hoping it will help me to feel a bit better, give more energy_. Thirteen bloody dollars for the same shit I paid 5 for only months ago! I still think something’s wrong with the store. I’ll have to check the local stores, that’s just too bloody much of an increase in such a short while. But if that’s the price, vitamin C is out of my regimen from now on. (I’m wondering if cutting it out has anything to do with the fact that my gum, upper right, feels like it’s simply rotting away. Oral cancer? I can feel, with my tongue, so much of one tooth back there. And it feels, the gum, rough. “Head and Neck CA?” No way I’ll “survive that! No way I’ll live with it wither. I’m beginning to break down. No complaints. The time is due. Time to leave all of this behind anyway.) – On the 21 bus to Pitkin and the craft store. I had 25 of the 50 from the T’s and with about 13 of that I got 2 crochet hooks and thread in black, ecru and Royal blue. (I’ve since tried to work with the black and with the ecru but the lighting in here is miserable. That, and my headache and the heat, and a pattern that does me no good. I gave up and took to the journal. At least I don’t have the old cow of Riverdale pissing around me. See? A good point for the day!) The store is OK. I prefer Michael’s. it’s neater, cleaner. So now I know. – To the 41 bus back to Rockaway Blvd. to the A. How odd: On the 21 I passed the G’s; on the 41 I was at the corner not far from the T’s. Work. I know the area all too well. To think: Queens was, for so many years, only distant memories of Michael Hill and a midnight run from 232nd Street to bring him chicken soup in the dead of Winter. How the world, my world, has changed. (As if it makes any difference at all.) – A direct trip back to this shit-hole. – C. came by. Asked for a quarter. Well, to “borrow” a quarter. I gave him 25cents from my honey jar. WTF? Why not? 25 cents. He’s still a bit “frisky”. I wish I could get to some place to have done with a fling. I do believe that would bring it all to a screeching halt quite promptly. – 23h06 Yes. Still awake. Headache is gone. I had coffee. That did it. Imagine? Sanded my feet down to “skin”. If I die, nobody will know it’s me… no tough feet! Well, better late than never. In 5 days it will be 2009. Only a year, but nice feet are fashionable even in the grave (or urn) (or ocean). Oh and I had a refreshing shower with C(ompany). He’s a trip. Waited in there until the next shower was empty (and the Bucket-Man left). – But I have to include the highlights of the day before retiring: When I got back from my running, Rey was in, alone. He asks me what the slamming of the locker was about the other night (Friday). he knew why. he even asked “About him?” pointing to George’s bed. When I said that I’m fed-up with being jolted out of needed sleep because he (Geo) comes in drunk, he (Rey) said “Did you talk to him about it?” Hell no! UI told him I’ve done what I have to do about it… request a transfer! “We all here always talk about things. Why don’t you just try to say ‘Listen… about the noise…’” I lost it! I told him “Fuck the talking! Fuck him. Fuck his mother! Fuck them all! It I hurt a patient because I’m tired, I’m fired! I’m the newer one in this room. You 2 were here when I got here so instead of changing anything, I’m leaving.” It didn’t go too well. He’s concerned (rightfully so) about what will com in my place. Well. That’s my point. Let some snoring, non-bather come in. Let them deal with it. That’s all. Then he tells me that he’s concerned because George was talking about killing himself last night. “So? he’s got so much money and time to get drunk. But no time to find work to better his life. If I could afford it, I’d buy him a one-way ticket to Tarrytown and get him to his Tappan Zee Bridge so he could jump!” You don’t mean that. You’d feel terrible if he did.” “Yes. oh yes I do mean it and no, I wouldn’t feel terrible. All you’ve ever seen is the quiet, sweet side of me. Now you’re getting to see the other side. This is the side that has plans and goals to get out of here and won’t let anything get in my way.” He couldn’t believe that I could/can be so cruel. Tough shit! So, it was pretty much left at that with a brief talk about disgusting people. This room is good, in general. 4 of us look-out for the room, we bathe, we even mop the floor (though, I do so more often). If one leaves, there’s no telling what will come along. So, as of now, when I speak with Simmons on Tuesday, I’ll pursue the options of relocating to an environment of “working Homeless”… This situation needs to end… promptly. – Now? All are here. Rich is pfutzing in his locker. George is reading a paper. Rey is listening to music. 27degrees. George’s fan is on. I’m going to try for a nap. Hopefully I’ll get to The Bronx library tomorrow.

SUN 28. 136/105 10h29 Fordham library. Only got 45 bloody minutes and accomplished just about nothing. What a day this will be! Accomplishing nothing. I’ve got too much that I want to do these days, yet, inside I know that none of it really matters in the long run… in the end. – On the Woodlawn train to here I thought: WHEN WE DIE, WE ARE SEPARATED FROM ALL WE ACQUIRED DURING OUT LIFE-TIME. WE ARE SEPARATED FROM PEOPLE, PLACES, THINGS THAT GAVE US JOY, PLEASURE, EVEN PAIN. ALL IS GONE AND NONE IS TAKEN WITH US. NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM WHERE I AM THESE DAYS. EVERYTHING I WORKED FOR, EVERY LITTLE THING THAT BROUGHT ME ANY PLEASURE IS GONE. JUST GONE. AND I CAN’T GET ANY OF IT BACK. AS IT IS WHEN PEOPLE DIE, ALL THINGS DISAPPEAR AND, OVER TIME, EVEN THE MEMORY OF THE PERSON GOES. MY THINGS HAVE DISAPPEARED. TRACES OF MY WORK ARE GONE. NO ONE CALLS. NO ONE TRIES TO CONTACT. EVEN THE MEMORY IS GONE. THEREFORE, I MUST BE DEAD. THIS MUST BE SOME HELL IN WHICH I MUST MAKE AMENDS FOR SOME EVIL DEED DONE. I MUST BE DEAD. – Got to sleep at about 24h last night under only a sheet. It was so hot in the dorm. Woke with the cell alarm (on vibrate) at 5h30 but went back to sleep until about 7h30. Shit, smoke, shower. Apparently Rich is no speaking to me. He came into the loo, looked, said nothing. As if… – When I got back to the dorm to dress, George was lying in bed, head at the door, reading. I gave him my book-light. He just looked up at me, said nothing. Unfortunately, the batteries went as he was reading. But I had replacements. He’s gone back to sleep before I got the change to change them. – Well, I’m probably on a major shit-list now. But the fact of the matter is that I truly don’t care. I want to work, make money, get out of where I am. That’s it. That’s all. And if it requires no connections to anybody, so be it. – I wonder where this person I am has come from: Truly Bitter… to the very core. I didn’t believe it could happen. But is has… AT LAST! – Well now, to figure out what to do with the remainder of the day. The 45 minutes on-line have thrown me off. There was more I needed to get done. – It’s a warm, wet, cloudy day. I guess I’ll just go, move, walk, train, what-ever, and see where it all ends up. – Do direction any more. And all goals and destinations are a blur. How charming is my existence today.
OH DREAM:
I don’t recall the people or the place but in the dream between 5 and 7h30 I dreamt I lost 3 teeth. They simply fell out. No order to the teeth. Nothing specific about any of them. As I spoke, each one loosened and came out. (As I walked to the train this morning I thought: Loosing teeth means death of someone close. 3 teeth, 3 sibs. Is all now gone at last?
18h24 in the hole. Alone. From the library to the market. Coffee, cold cuts, PopTarts, puddings. No Bustello instant. Caribe at the same price. I wasn’t leaving The Bronx with-out my coffee. And the puddings were on sale, 2 for 3$. Food stamps are getting low and 2 more weeks to go. Anyway, to the streets to transfer coffee from jar to Zip-lock and then to the Bx9 to Target. HANGERS! 4 for 2,49$! I got 8! The heavy white plastic hangers. A pleasant purchase, and back to the Bx9, back to Jerome and back on the train to come back to the Hole of Misery. – All the while, detached, dissociated, not here, not some-where else, not any-where at all. As I climbed the stairs to the train, all I could do was tell myself to just keep moving toward what I wanted to accomplish today. Just keep moving forward… just keep moving on. I couldn’t’ focus on anything. I didn’t have my usual intestinal cramps. I didn’t have the usual constant urge to pee. I didn’t have headache. I just didn’t “have”. At one point, by Fordham, the world went “3-D” and I felt my-self lost in the whole of it. Just lost… and dead… and dead. – When I got in at the Hole, the dorm was empty. I pulled things from the locker, put things on the hangers. (I have 3 empty… Well, 2 jeans will go on one.) George came in, not speaking. I told him that I didn’t mean to give him the book light at the end of the batteries. He simply looked at me and continued getting ready to leave again. Not a word. Ah well. I truly don’t’ care. I’ve got tonight’s sleep and tomorrow’s work on my mind. – C. came by, complaining that I left with-out him this morning but, he was going for a walk with the (pseudo)(faux?) Muslim (Mohamed). I’d wanted to go for that walk with C! A warm day. It would have been a great opportunity to talk freely. But the day was against me. I ate. – Got ready to leave for a walk of my own but, on the stairs, changed my mind. Came back to the empty room for a nap. That was at about 16h. When I woke, only a little while ago, I peed, had a smoke and came in to crochet a bit. – The “Security” guy did a double tour of the wing after my smoke and even made a room-check. This one popped his head in and actually spoke: “How y’doin?” They usually come walking in, stand in the middle of the room for a few seconds and leave. I guess it’s to remind us that we’re not human and certainly no deserving of dignity. – 18h50 still alone. Cool breeze finally. Relatively quiet floor. (The shit will come when it’s time for sleep.) – Had a chat with Craig earlier. He claims there are no pork products in the food served here… because of Muslims and Jews. I can’t be too certain of the “no pork” but I most certainly doubt it has anything to do with any concern for Jews. At any rate, I enjoy talks with him. He happens to be rather bright, knowledgeable about many things. And he’s been in here somewhere around a year! – Well, time to make a little wash for tomorrow. I could stand a haircut, beard trim. But let’s see what actually gets accomplished. I’d really like a walk with C and sleep. But I know better: what I’d like doesn’t matter in this Creation.

MON 29. 137/106 19h28 D18 No mood for poetry tonight. Didn’t get to try for sleep last night until after 23h. Up at 5h30 and the usual morning routine. Out the door. On the Nr6 by 6h50. Rock Blvd by 7h45! Immediate Q41. I got off at 157th Av. CVS for cigarettes. The Swamp Guinnie at the counter ignored me. Then, no Camel Lights. She tried to sell me menthol. I walked out quietly. Rite Aid at 160th. 8,35$ plus tax! Nope. I had a few left. No emergency. – At G’s by 8h18. Mrs. took the phone. I had to call the agency on my phone! THEN Mrs. Hangs up! Mr. in discomfort. Constipated. In bed almost all morning. Up at 11h30. VNS shows at noon! Commented on improved speech. I clocked-out. But Mrs. Tells me the other Aide was getting 115$/8hrs PLUS 30$ per day for carfare! (She claims she had to stop because she couldn’t’ afford it any longer.) When I was asked my per hour, I said 10$! No more and never again. – On to Mr. T by 13h37. today, he has the runs! O only got one bout, luckily. The rest of the shift was coffee, cookies and CNN coverage of Gaza vs. Israel. I was out by 16h30. – Great connections on bus, A and L. Just missed the Nr.6 because some fat-arsed Black-ass in knee-crotch jeans slowed me down. THEN the excuse of a train with brakes in emergency at 59th. A Nr.5, a Nr.4 a Nr.6 to 33rd to change my first “real” cheque. 158,70. – 25$ carfare. 43$ P.O.B. rent. 8,50 cigs and much to deposit! GONE! So much for the sleepless nights, abusive days and shit for pay. POUF! GONE! – I’m no sooner in the dorm when C. comes to the door “Gimme a cigarette.” “no.” He took it well. I told him I’m in no mood. He actually backed off a bit. Yes, I feel a little poorly about the blunt “No.” But I’m getting better at taking care to take care of ME BEFORE trying to take care of the world. – And so, 2 turkey sandwiches, 3 puddings, I’ve washed 2 pairs of socks. It’s 19h45 (1945!) Tomorrow will be a mad dash from G’s to Rock Park PO to pay box rent and black here to Simmons. Then to make my deposit at the banquet. – OH, MEANWHILE, Anna, PIC HR is bugging me because she can’t confirm my previous employment. (Margot of Rock Home Health) and I need to call her (during her strange business hours) “ASAP”. Right! FUCK! Just as I start to work decent hours, I’ll loose THIS job too? GASTON TIME! Push me world! Go ahead. Push! I’m at the very end. There’s no more to hold on to. I worked hard and did without to get what little I had. It’s all gone now. Nothing left to hold on to. Push! I’m SO out of here!

[TUE 30. 138/107 *This entry was bracketed in the BlackNotes* 16h32 An hour wait for a computer and today I WANT INTERNET! After busting my guts to get to Renee Simmons, CW at the shelter by 14h47 and having to sit and wait for her incompetent shit-for-brains, fat, lazy arse to call for me, some 15 minutes later, SHE HAS THE AUDACITY TO TELL ME THAT MY JOB ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER SUPERVISOR, THAT I SHOULD TAKE TIME AWAY FROM WORK TO GO APPLY TO SOME SLOP-HOUSE AGENCY ON HER REFERRAL, TO FIND “SUITABLE” FULL-TIME EMPLOYMENT! IN OTHER WORDS; NOW THAT I’M BRINGING IN OVER 100$/WEEK DHS WANTS ME TO QUITE THE JOB! When I asked her how I’m supposed to find time to make and income AND go job-running, she told me “I’m not going to figure all that our for you. You have to figure it out.” When I mentioned how some people have time and money to get drunk 7 nights a week but my efforts at making an income and going to work every day aren’t good enough, she scolded me by saying “You have no right to make any judgment on anybody!” Judgment? Not when I see it every bloody day! When I asked about conditions suitable to people who work she told me about “Working Shelters” and “3/4 Houses”. The latter has been found to be illegal, but that doesn’t seem to matter to her, or to DHS. When I commented on those who do nothing but get drunk every night and manage to sleep in their bed all day, she admitted that it’s probably Welfare money supporting the drinking, said she doesn’t understand why I don’t receive cash benefits (but never did anything in the way of doing anything to help me apply for those cash benefits – nor has she done anything toward helping me with Medicaid, although SHE said that SHE would because I SHOULD have Medicaid since I have COPD.) She gave me a new Meal Ticket dated 6 January 2008. When I pointed out the error, her flat reply was “Well, I guess you won’t be eating.” (She did write another with 2009.) – Now, to figure out how to get this to public attention… RAPIDLY.] *End of brackets* – OK. So last night George came in after 21h, drunk, but quiet. I’d had a talk with Rich D16 about my displeasure in the room and my chat with Rey (where I took the brunt for slamming the locker on Friday past). He concurred with me. We (Rich and I) were in for the night before 21h. I think I finally went to sleep at about 22h when Rey turned off the light. – This morning, up at 5h30. C. was up when I left at 6h39. how odd it is that there’s someone expressing an interest in me and I’m not interested in perusing it, have no feelings at all on the matter and, although the “company” might be pleasant (even though it’s oft-times annoying) it’s burdensome. I’ve become “Bitter” and all but heartless. The soul will go next. Then? Nothing will be left. – Mr. G. was quite lethargic and in pain. Mrs. Admitted that she still employs the other Aide. Am I being taken for the fool here? – At 12h20-something, I bolted for the 21 bus. Another 6 months of P.O. Box is paid! I’ll get mail. – PIC-DA wants a copy of my W2 from the Postal Service! It’s gone! GONE! They can’t get verification of employment. I’d probably lose this job shortly after January. It’s my fate. – Nothing to eat all day. Nothing in the locker. I’m a bit hungry. I’ll get food… just because eating will make me more comfortable. – FUCK ALL OF CREATION! – Well, I did… I never got to finish this so I’m moving on to…

WED 31. 139/108 (On Friday 2 January ’09 20h09) Quite the day. Not good. Up at 5h30. the usual morning routine. Out the door in plenty of time to catch trains and busses with no stress. The connections were unreal: one right after the other. I should have known it meant me no good: At 8h22 I was at G’s. no lights on, door closed and locked, no answer to the door-bell, no answer at the house phone, no answer at the cell. It began to hail. There I stood, needing to shit and pee, in the cold. I rang PIC. No Kristin,. Too early. I headed to McD’s on 160th, got a coffee. Sat. I did want the coffee. I didn’t need the coffee. I was grateful that I had the cash for coffee and to be out of the elements. Rang PIC. Kristin confirmed the message of yesterday: Mr. G. in hospital. I rang Danielle (RN) who told me the case is closed because Mr. is in hospital. There goes my 29-hour week! I sipped-down half of the coffee, went to the men’s. Locked! But the women’s was open so? A bowl is a bowl and I needed one. I used it. On to the Q21 to Rock Park. I was going to get the Q35 to the B3 to the B36 to the 99cent Store BUT I got to Rock Park as the 35 left! Decided to do the train. Shuttle to Broad Channel, A to Utica to the C to Franklin Shuttle to the Q to Sheepshead Bay. – Got soap and “stuff”. Oh, and I had no glasses with me! 3 pairs to my name and not one with me! I found a pair at 2,50. Grabbed them to do my shopping. When it came time to go to the register, I put them into my jacket pocket and went to pay. 5 items came to 5,36$. I gave the cashier 5,56$. She yelled at me! “It’s 5,36$! Why you give me 5,56$?!?” “So you can give me 20cents back, stupid! Learn math!” I replied. And out-side, the wind picked-up and the snows came. I headed for the !. – On the train, the phone rang. Mary T. Father’s got the runs and is exhausted. Let’s cancel today. OK. So NO WORK AT ALL FOR TODAY! Just when I need the money the most! – SO I took the ! to 14th to the L to 1stAv to the M15 bus. Bought a pack of cigarettes. The snows had stopped. I was exhausted, and down in the dumps. – Back at the shit-hole Hotel, immediate in and up to the dorm. Empty. Quick, a small laundry and down to settle. I half-waited for C.W. (C.). He never came by. – Almost forgot: At 14th Street, I took the M15 to 23rd and did a quick, light food shopping for tonight and tomorrow. Food Stamps down to 30-something dollars for the next 10 days and each time I shop it’s usually about 9$ per day for sandwiches. More hard days are coming. It wouldn’t surprise me if I get cut off now. That would be normal for my life. – Meanwhile, at the room, Rey came in, George came in, Rich came in. All present and accounted for. No. Wait. No George. How stupid of me not to remember “No George”. Jus the 3 sane Boys (Sane? Comparatively.) None of us had even the slightest notion of going out tonight. Quite cold and none of us was in the mood for crowds.* – It was 23h47 when Rich(16) made the announcement of the time and we all (3) decided on lights-out. Just before midnight, no fire-works or fan-fare. Click. 2008 was closed.
*Sign-in at 18h. – Meal Tkt. nec. “I don’t know who you are.” (James): Sign-in began at 18h tonight. Somebody came by the door to say that we could sign-in and for those planning on “stepping out”, a notation would be made on the bed-list. It sounded good to me: to sign early and relax. So I went. James was at the desk. I walked in, he just gawked up at me with his bulging frog-eyes and “liver lips”. I told him my bed number. He snapped “I don’t know who you are!” I had to go get my “Meal Ticket”. So, I came back to the room to wait a bit. No sense running back. Meanwhile, the “rules” changed. Sign-in sheet down until the usual 20h. I went at 20h30 (my relative usual), dropped my “Meal Ticket” on the desk, scrawled something on the roster, picked up my ticket and returned to the room.
(*Click. 2008 was closed.*)
CONTINUE… 2009