Sunday, December 4, 2005

Record Warmth

I am looking at my little weather station that my sister gave me for Christmas a few years ago. I have a sensor outside that sends a wireless signal inside and displays all kinds of information. This $40 gift has been one of the most used and enjoyed Christmas gifts I have ever received. The temperature reads 78 degrees. It feels like summer and I have all my windows open. I love this weather. It is so nice to have that warm breeze of fresh air flowing through my house. We also have bright blue skies filled with puffy cumulus clouds reminiscent of a summer day. It is beautiful.

I haven’t done much today but sit and watch 2003 episodes of Eastenders. I am feeling sick to my stomach and can’t leave the house for fear of having an attack. That chili dog I eat yesterday did a number on me. I have probably used the restroom twenty times today. Okay, that was too much information, wasn’t it?

I did rearrange my furniture in the den this morning to place my lazy-boy lounger directly in from of this computer to watch shows. I am too lazy today to go through the process of burning them to DVD and playing them on my television. All I want to do is sit, sip on coca-colas, and be the best couch potato I can be. Lofty goals *grins* and I am excelling at them.

Saturday, December 3, 2005

Biking through Town

It was a very cold morning, but the day has warmed up nicely. I decided to get my bike out of the garage and go for a ride. I first rode down to the old deserted railroad engine house and watched a few trains pass. I sat on the bench behind the bank. It reminded me of all the times I did this as a child on this very same bench.

I then rode over to Sara Jay’s eatery. They have this foot long chili dog and French fry platter for $3.99 that I am addicted to. I love my chili dog with extra onions and mustard. They always fix it just right at my request. After eating, I sat for the longest time drinking tea, smoking cigarettes, and people watching.

I enjoyed hearing other people’s conversations around me. One fellow was going on and on about all the rental property he owns. He was definitely bragging. Another lady was talking to a friend about her Christmas plans over some cheeseburgers and fries. People would come in and order and the waitress would holler out the order to the cook across the restaurant. You could hear the grill sizzle as more burgers were put on and the roaring bubbling of cooking oil as more fries were lowered in their basket into the hot oil. I enjoyed the ambiance.

I then left the restaurant and rode over to the Piggly Wiggly to get chocolate milk. George was no where to be seen, but Slop, Weasel, and Cap w/Tag Guy were there as usual. I sat down next to Slop on the bench in front of the Piggly Wiggly.

“You seen George?” I asked him as I sat down.

“He be down here earlier this morning,” Slop said. “He brought Juanita to buy her groceries.”

“If you see him again, tell him I was down here looking for him,” I replied.

“Weasel be talkin’ bout you,” Slop said trying to instigate an altercation.

“What has Weasel been saying?” I asked.

“He be sayin’ you were a faggot and give the best blow jobs in town,” Slop said as he giggled like a small child.

I laughed out loud and was intriqued by this bit of false gossip. Slop had thought that this would anger me and I would have had a go at Weasel. Sometimes, being around these guys is like being back in high school again; all the silly gossip, backstabbing, and drama. They can act like teenagers.

“You tell Weasel I want his hot, throbbing cock,” I replied.

Slop giggled some more and assured me he would tell that to Weasel. I then got back on my bike and headed for home. As I rode by Weasel standing down next the dollar store, I gave him a big smile and a wink. He looked thoroughly revolted. That gave me a big chuckle. I can play their silly games as well as any.

Bitter Cold

I am up with the crows as my grandmother used to say. It is 3:48 a.m. and a bitterly cold morning. The temperature is 26 degrees (-4 Celsius). The cold pours off my rather large and drafty windows and causes me to run my gas heater on high constantly. I also have a small floor heater that I run next to my feet to keep them toasty warm as I sit at this computer. I shudder to think what my heating costs are going to be this winter.

George came by my house last night. This is something he rarely does as I dissuade him from doing so. I worry that the riff raff of the Piggly Wiggly will get to be a constant figure at this house. He brought me a twelve pack of ice beer and a pack of Swisher Sweet cigarillos. He was genuinely concerned about me after our talk about me living in my car the other day. We sat in my den drinking beer and smoking as we talked. I try not to smoke inside, but made an exception last night due to the cold. We used discarded cans of beer as an ash tray.

George kept trying to persuade me to go over with him to a lady named Pookie’s house. He wanted us to play cards and get drunk. He also said that Pookie thought I was cute and wanted to be with a white man. He said she wanted to “fuck my brains out.” I have met Pookie a few times when George has given her rides to the Piggly Wiggly. She is a very obese black lady. Not my idea for a “hot date” as George alluded to. He means well though. He is baffled by my abstention from sex.

When George had come over, I had been cooking cubed steak with gravy. I had also made a pan of biscuits and a pot of broccoli. After we had both consumed some beers and cigarillos, I offered George some supper. We sat at my kitchen table eating. George told me that was some of the best cubed steak he had ever eaten. He passed on the broccoli though. I love broccoli with lots of lemon juice and butter. George was surprised that this “white boy” could cook.

Friday, December 2, 2005

Looking in the Mirror

That is such a hard thing to do. I think we all have this self perceived view of ourselves. Sometimes, it is so hard to look in the mirror and see ourselves for what we truly are.

Less than a week ago, I was prepared to give up every thing I had worked so hard for these past two years. I had packed my bags. I had made extensive plans. I wanted to take the easy way out. Homelessness? Easy? Yes, it is easier than you think. Your only concerns are keeping warm and filling your belly; none of that hard stuff like dealing with family crisis; being responsible; maintaining relationships; emotional involvement. It is much easier just to cast all that aside and just disappear out into the background noise of life; wandering the streets.

I like to think my irresponsibility is a symptom of my mental illness. That is much easier to bear, but it isn’t the truth. The irresponsibility started with me playing fast and loose with my medications. I should have made sure that I had a way to get my injection. I had a responsibility to my family and those that care about me.

My family has invested a huge amount of time in my recovery from homelessness and mental illness these past two years. They have assured I have a home. They have included me in family social events even though I am socially aloof. They have spent a large amount of money making sure I have basic medical care such as my medications. They have invested a huge amount of emotional time and involvement. I almost threw all of that away with reckless abandon and for selfish motives. I should be ashamed and am.


I sat in my parent’s kitchen at the dinner table. I and mom were both splitting a thin crust double pepperoni pizza from Papa John’s. I had ordered it earlier off the internet. They had just delivered it. Mom and I try to eat together every Thursday night.

“I almost left,” I said as I munched on a piece of pizza.

“Left to go where?” Mom asked.

“To live in my car and travel,” I replied. “Don’t tell dad, okay?”

“Where would you go?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I just wanted to get away.”

“You worry me talking like this,” She said.

“Well, I changed my mind,” I replied. “I love you all too much.”

Mom then started to pull pepperoni off her slice of pizza and placed it on a napkin. She placed the napkin on the floor for her cat, Muffin, to eat. Muffin ran over and hungrily ate what Mom had offered.

“I have good news,” Mom said changing the subject as see looked up to me.

“What?” I asked.

“Next week I will have paid off all my credit cards,” She said with an ecstatic grin.

A few years ago, my mother ran up $30,000 dollars on her credit cards. It has taken her a long time to pay them off.

“Congratulations,” I said as I reached over and gave her a hug. “You deserve it.”

We finished up eating our pizza. I gave mom a hug goodbye and walked home in the dark; stumbling to find my way.

Thursday, December 1, 2005

The Wisdom of George

I was talking to George today down at the Piggly Wiggly about living in my car. George has what I call “street smarts.” Under that crass exterior, you can find some wisdom.

“You be fuckin’ crazy?” He asked incredulously as he held up his fist pretending he was going to hit me.

I stifled back a laugh as he doesn’t know about my schizophrenia. He probably has a point.

“I just want to be free,” I replied.

“Hell,” George said. “You be freer than most people be.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as he handed me a beer.

“Yo ass don’t have to work when you don’t want to. You be gettin’ all the food you want to eat. You don’t be havin’ no naggin’ ass wife.” George said as he puffed on his cigar. “Hell, I be havin’ to carry around all dem niggas all day just to make a few bucks and buy some beer.”

“George, my family drives me crazy though,” I replied. “I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes for being smothered.”

“My nigga-ass Pops wouldn’t have anything to do me,” George replied. “Just be glad yo ass got some family dat be seein’ ‘bout you.”

We then both sat quietly in his car smoking and drinking beer, watching as Cap W/Tag Guy made another sale of crack cocaine over by the dollar store. A young black lady who looked like what George calls “chicken heads” walked by him and they made a clandestine exchange. He calls them chicken heads because of how skinny they grow on the drug. Their Adam’s apples become pronounced and masculine looking and their heads bob as they walk.

“Now, dat be one hard workin’ nigga,” George said as he pointed Cap’s way. “Just be glad yo ass ain’t gotta stand out here all day in da cold selling dat shit to dem stupid mutha fuckas.”

“George, you have a point,” I replied. “I am better off than most.”

“Now, we just gotta start gettin’ yo ass some pussy on a regular basis,” He said with a grin. “Dem bitches ain’t gonna like some dumb-ass white cracka livin’ in his car.”

I busted out laughing when he said that. I had just finished off a can of beer and almost got choked.

“You’ve got a point,” I said as I continued to laugh. “It would put a damper on my sex life.”

George grinned some more and handed me another beer and cigar, urging me to drink up and have another smoke.