There were three. Kinda reinforces the fact that, well, when it comes to round holes I’m the perpetual square peg.
- I tried hanging out with the homeless in the pavilion of a park close to where I sleep in my car at night. When I walked in they looked at me like I was Ed Gein, human mask and all. I was only looking for an outlet to plug in this laptop but the cold looks I got could freeze a polar bear in its tracks. Goodbye, pavilion.
- I went to a drop-in center for the mentally challenged earlier this week to maybe watch a movie on this laptop, eat lunch and help with the dishes. I was attacked by this heavy set woman. She yelled, “Don’t brush up against me!” as I walked pass her. Mind you, I was no where near this woman, but her challenge was unnecessary. I’m trying my best to avoid any kind of confrontation so her vitriol caught me off guard. I’m homeless, dammit, and I’m just trying to make myself useful. Anyway, the center was too noisy and emanated too many bad vibes. Goodbye, center.
- I went to see a few of my street friends down at a local park last night. They were hanging out with other homeless folks cooking around an outdoor pit. Yes, they were smoking weed. That didn’t bother me. What caught me off guard was I suddenly wanted to drink because I wanted to join in their party. The feeling was unbearably strong; also, because there was more people in attendance than I’d like, I bounced. Going down there was a mistake. Almost brought me back to drinking which, in essence, would’ve brought me back to drugging. Goodbye, homeless folks huddled around outdoor fire pits at night.
I don’t do it, but apparently, many do around the world. You see them everywhere – outside the malls, outside the grocery stores, standing on street corners, sitting beneath the protruding glass and concrete awnings of metropolises everywhere; you can’t miss ’em. They’re beggars. They want your money for food, for beer, for drugs, for a bus ticket back home (so they say), for whatever. I’ve never looked at them with disdain; however, I never did give them money because I felt they’d just use it for drugs and, if they really were hungry, they’d hit up a food pantry somewhere.
There are going to be quite a few big acts in town this year – Kenny Chesney, Billy Joel, Sting & Peter Gabriel, Paul McCartney, Billy Joel, Carrie Underwood, Iron Maiden, Rihanna, etc. The ticket prices will be around $250 to $1000 per person. Sweet. Now all I have to do to get a seat is decide which arm and leg to chop off or sell my first born into bondage. Piece of cake.
Hiya, folks. I was sitting here on the floor at the Wallingford Food Bank surfing the internet when I happened to look up. Lo and behold, it’s my old pal, the king of pop, Michael Jackson. He’s trying to be incognito wearing torn jeans and a grey hoodie but I’d recognize him anywhere. He’s always been a good conversationalist so I’ll secretly now use my laptop to record our conversation.
The Writings of an American Author 