Wednesday, July 4, 2012

OKAY, MORE IMPORTANT NEWS, HOMELESS CHRONICLES BACK IN BUSINESS, NOW WITH LESS IRONY, MORE... WRITER'S BLOCK?

I really did hit a writer's block or brick wall with this title. I wanted something clever and ironic and witty and eye-catching, that will nab me a million views in one day. Bullshit; we all know this is not going to happen. I am re-launching this website for a purpose and a good one I hope. But, the hell with it. I want to do something good here and if I just keep thinking about it and trying to polish it, it will never get done. It's my Preciousss.... *shakes head* Let me cut right to the chase.

Anyone who’s known me for any longer than five minutes pretty much has heard me barf up the story of my life so I won’t puke it up again. Just the usual stuff, smart parents, but dysfunctional, alcoholic daddy, co-dependent ma, deeply flawed, but man, they were good people. I was basically lazy, low, low, self-esteem, slacker, blah, blah, but got somewhere, because I had loads of talent, but little drive and loads of self-destructive behavior. Cursed myself, but I own it and I am lucky to be walking and breathing. Okay. I have nothing that will kill me outright, but lots of annoying shit that I bore my poor friends to death with, topped off with a butt load of bi-polarity and that evil, lying bitch, depression. (am I right, Andi-Roo?) I got pretty fucked up over this whole thing called “life” a few months back, which I do on a fairly regular basis. I found out I was bi-polar this past March, after having stayed up most of February. Ironically, I don't remember much of March, except for St. Patrick's Day weekend. The rest of March, I was in the Hospital under the kind auspices of the Baker Act, which is a polite term in Florida for Loony Bin. Life is some serious shit.
 
I am one of the lucky ones. To wit: I have a roof over my head. I have food. Yes, I am on SSDI. Yes, it's a constant battle to get any kind of health care at all. It just forces me to be very discerning and ask lots of questions, and not necessarily about the particular health problem I may be dealing with at the time. So, enough of my organ recital.

I got my second chance; I suspect one of the reasons I am having such a bad time at this point, is I have nothing to really engage me, nothing that makes me feel alive NOW. That is a terrible thing to say. I have a good man in my life, whom I love beyond reason. I have countless friends who love me and whom I adore. I am still after 56 years of sloth, indolence, carelessness and general indifference, intensely interested by the human condition. I am curious, awed, moved, amused, bemused, exhilarated and disgusted by the way we treat one another. Everything we do has a consequence, everything we do matters and matters greatly. To quote Arthur Miller, "Attention must be paid."

When JC and I were coming home the other day on the Bus, a woman was standing out in the rain trying to sell the little newspaper that homeless people can "sell" for 1.00 to earn money since panhandling has been outlawed in Hillsborough County. This is the most asinine law. The lawmakers here resisted it for a few years, but the law was passed across the bay in Pinellas County, so it was simply a matter of time. I know all the arguments about the homeless. I've been there. I was homeless and it really sucked and I got un-homeless just as fast as I could. Truth be told? If I hadn't been so goddamned sick that I spent 2 months in the hospital and I was a shoo-in for SSDI, I'd probably still be homeless, nearly two years later. Shudder. 

Anyway. This woman is standing in the rain trying to sell her wet newspaper. Debby is borin... er, raining on her; she's wet, her little paper's wet, and I can't get out of my goddamned bus seat to get to the door to get her a damned dollar because the light changes and I trip over whackamole. I cried all the way downtown. Life can just suck. I want to help people like that. That lady needs help. She doesn't need condemning. She's not one of these people who's getting a check once a month and blowing it by the 3rd of the month. They live across the street from where I live now. I have to stop. I will tell more. Much more and not just about the homeless, but the system and their absurdities. Maybe I can find some answers and some concrete ones.

Please come back; I have more to tell. I want to help in my little patch of Nebraska Avenue. It isn't just about being funny or being insane, it's about doing what I can here with the not insubstantial tools I possess; just don't ask me to drive. I can become engaged and feel alive again.








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