November 2008

Sat. 1 Nov. 79 Homeless days. 48 days in this “Shelter”! FUCK! 13h33 (D18 – A Shabbat “in”) As noted in yesterday’s entry, I was shot awake at 3h30 this morning by Rey’s tantrum of grumbling, yelling, and slamming windows and screens. The shit of one day carried to the next. So, I got up, went to the loo, had a smoke, came back. Fell asleep until about 9h. In the shower, some fuck-nut broke the shower-head in the first stall. The idiot in the second stall suggested that I go use the shower in the East Wing. Being the brain around here, I used my bandage tape to repair for the moment and showered. – A 10h with “Miss Uloma”. I was on time. She was late. Margaret was in the linen room listening to old country and reggae music. “Great Pretender”, “Send Me The Pillow That You Dream On”. Fond and hurtful memories as I waited for “Miss Uloma”. – The appointment went well enough. Quickly. I have car-fare for Monday morning and a new “Meal Ticket” to the end of the month. She wants my pay-stub to use toward my “Housing Application”. I’ll see her next Saturday (PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE THEN!) – Rey tells me his woes about the snoring. He’s trying to change rooms! I’m completely selfish about it. I don’t like his flatulence and the fact that he’s almost proud of it (no qualms about discussing the odour), but he’s clean and quiet. What will come in his place to torture me? He discusses the snoring with 16 who get into his “political asylum-they’re trying to kill me” routine. I ignore, read Tanach. Rey leaves. 16 come to me “You’re experienced much life…” he begins. I suggest he let the matter ride. We’re all here, in the shelter, until we can get out. Life is too short. In the end, we die and nothing matters anyway. – (I’m a bloody Counselor in this fucked place!) George comes in, goes to bed. – I’m keeping to myself from here on. I need to find the way to more money, quickly, long term, and bust out of this place. – And the generator outside drones on. It’s 31deg. In this shit hole. I’ve eaten the last of my food. It’s 13h58 – 14h43 Have just added 3 more sheets to journal. 99 pages! Of HOMELESSNESS! – 16h54 At 15h30, I decided to nap. I’ve just awakened from a truly wonderful, but heart-breaking dream. Even in my sleep I’m trying to get to Shabbat services! – It’s 31deg in here again today! Unbearable HOT! – 18h29 WELL. ANOTHER PART OF ME AND MY EXISTENCE IS FONE, GONE, GONE! I ACCIDENTALLY DELTED EVERY PICTURE ON THE CELLPHONE! CREATION GOES ONE MORE STEP TO WIPE ME OUT! – ?h54 Temperatures dropped down to 30deg! – Signed in. Went for a smoke in the shower room. The one I ‘fixed” this morning is broken again. But, it’s no surprise. Only an hour ago came the news: Somebody took a shit, in the hall, right beside a garbage pail! On the floor. In the hall. Took a shit. This is what humanity is now comprised of. If I could be amazed any more. But I can’t .If there is a reason for all of this, a simple, divine reason why I must experience all of this, I’m almost afraid to ponder it. – The day is cone. Tonight we go off “Daylight Savings Time”. The darkness will be coming earlier. I’m having anxieties about it. This place is miserable, with fluorescent lighting. My vision is blurred as it is. What’s to come is unknown. And the holidays. Thanksgiving, Chanukah, Christmas. New Year. I wonder how many of them I’ll pass in here. Will I be with the same 3 in this room> But right now, the immediate, present, I’m hungry and I’ve got absolutely nothing to eat. Only coffee. Ah. Well. And as I write, George appears to be gussied for another night out. The days go by…I “escape’ in dreams. Some good. Some bad. My “normalcy” is in my sleep now. My little “reality” is my dreams. I look forward to them. Perhaps I’m slipping away. I’d really like a few martinis tonight. If I trusted anything in this place enough, I’d take a Vicodin. But I don’t want to sleep that deeply. These are the times I miss the nights on the beach. But tomorrow is yet a new day, with new possibilities and potential. It’s a chance to move forward, upward, onward and most important – OUTward. May that be the direction! – Round about midnight, George comes waltzing in. I know because I was having major problems shutting my mind off to fall asleep. I’d been lying in bed from since about 22h. the pump/generator outside seemed particularly loud tonight. My thoughts on how to get out of here, comfortably, kept rolling &c. So George’s first line of action, in a dark room where 3 people are apparently asleep… gets on the telephone! Chat. Chat. Giggle. Chat. Next? 16 gets up and goes to the loo. He comes back and Rey gets up and TURNS ON THE BLOODY LIGHT! My turn. I get up, put on my scrub top, grab a cigarette and lighter… SLAM my locker closed and go for a smoke and some cooling down time in the loo. Middle of the night. So much for that “extra hour” of sleep this evening. It was probably about 15 minutes or so later when I decided to return to bed. The lights were out, George was snoring. I got into bed and the next thing I know it was/is…

Sun 2 80/49 11h27 I’ve been awake from since 9h30! I got my sleep. Gulped my usual morning, cold coffee, off to the loo for morning smoke. I’m hungry. My stomach is a mess. Bowels want to but can’t move. My back is painful because the mattress keeps sagging to one side. Brush the teeth. Get ready for shower. Kendall comes to tell me that somebody shat BEHIND the toilet in one of the stalls! As he says It’s getting worse round here. Rick says he had to clean shit out of a shower stall lately. It’s getting worse. But then, this is no “home” and isn’t supposed to be. – Very early this morning I heard, in the hall, radios: “D19!” “East or West?” “West” “D19” “East or West side?” “West. WEST!” over and over. Harry. Off to hospital. This morning, he’s here, walking about with EKG patches and tapes all over his chest. The guys call on me. Is it legal to let him out of hospital like that? Of course it is. Well, that’s not what they wanted to hear. Oh well. I didn’t want to heal the word “Hopeless” associated with me. Life is Hell. I showered. – 16 comes to me to show some storage documents to support some claim to property mentioned in his conversation with Rey yesterday. Tells me he understand why I slammed my locker last night. Said nothing, walked out. Yeah. So? Meanwhile, the other 2 are avoiding me, not speaking. Yes. George is awake only just now. I guess it kicks the world’s arse when the “Old Sagely Rabbi” type drops a bomb or just becomes “human” Oh well. Tough shit. – Right now I need to figure how to get to he library in spite of my sore back and how to eat for 8 days on 29,68 in Food Stamps. – When it come to thinking’ bout anything but MY welfare, I just don’t have the time… – 12h34 on the steps of 101 Park Ave. Back, sore. Bowles? Reminding me that they’re present. Weather? Lovely. Mood? Miserable. A pastry that used to be 2 for 1$ cost me 75cents. But I needed to put something in my stomach. I’m quite hungry. – Am noticing gargoyles on buildings near by. I remember when I had a few of my own… I remember when I had a life and home. I remember how it all got lost: family and friends. And now I sit here, waiting for the library to open and I’ve got 2,52$ to my name. – Oh, I got paid 58$ for orientation and travel time. I never received the cheque. So MORE money I should have. – My bowels want to move, of course they do. I sat for the longest on the john for nothing. I’m on Park Avenue now. My body hates me. Creation is hateful. It’s all just disgusting.- So The Wave said that “Stimulus Cheques” MUST be delivered and gave the info to check on where undelivered cheques went… on-line. Might be 600$ there! A month’s rent! Fuck me, but I’ll look into it. Shit. I’m in a shelter now. What next? Goal or is it Gaol? WTF? As they say. – Library. BM!!! – 13h16 MMLib Appoitment at 14h. Some funky, nappy thang is at my appointed PC. I went to Grand Central for the BM. Just in time. But the bowl was filthy and the floor was wet. The world is a miserable place today. And my bowels gurgle. – Returned Tolstoy in the “Quick Drop”. Something less to schlep. I’ve really no time to read for enjoyment lately anyway. – 20h22 How odd and yet so VERY complimentary: As I’m sitting at the computer, one screen on the art blog, the other popping searches, a young Orthodox guy (black kippa, trousers, coat, shoes and white shirt) come up and says “How are you doing?” I nod, trying to get through my responsibilities. “Are you visiting here? For how long, may I ask. Are you from Israel?” I answered “No. I’m from New York.” “Oh, I thought you were from Israel. And you have such a frontiersman look. But obviously you’re no frontiersman to the computer. You have a rugged appearance.” So, Now I’m looking like a “Halutznik”. “Rugged”. I’m a “rugged” Jew. Ah hah! – Anyway, I made it all through that and a trip to Gristedes and back to here (D18) with a stop for yoghurt by the river… another yoghurt, 2 peanut butter/frosting sandwiches and no shits. Happy to report. – I got back just before 16h to an empty dorm! A guy named Ron (or Rod) came and asked to buy a “rollie” (cigarette). I gave him 2 papers and tobacco. Told him he could “have” them. I’m stupid. – Oh, I checked my “Economic Stimulus” cheque. I DIDN’T QUALIFY! FUCKING IDIOT BASTARDS. Not enough income. Morons. – Earlier this evening as I tried for a nap, Harry (next door D19) was fighting with some Spic-idiot in the hall. It got so bad that Operations has to come up. Yes, the times they are a-changing… for the worst. – On “Operations”, the GREAT NOTE: I come in this evening and make a stop in the office for some toilet paper (in case)… THE WOMAN WHO HELPED ME THE NIGHT I GOT ASSIGNED TO A108 AND ADDRESSED ME AS “MR. KESSLER” WAS ON THE DESK! WHEN I TOLD HER HOW I’D BEEN HOPING TO SEE HER TO THANK HER SHE SAID, SOFTLY “I REMEMBER YOU.” SO I THANKED HER AND SHE SAID (SOFTLY) “THAT’S WHAT WE’RE HERE FOR.” “NOT ALL” I REPLIED. WHAT A MOST TRULY MARVELOUS HUMAN-BEING SHE IS. – Well, 20h50. George is in. Reading. 16 is napping. Rey isn’t in yet. I’ll go sign-in, get an early shower. That should fuck the night up well enough. Tomorrow I’ve already got my computer reserved at 9h30. And… work. – I’ve calculated: 66 per week, 264 per month, 81 for an Unlimited MetroCard (freedom to ride and travel!) and a remainder of 183. 60% of the 264 is 158,40. 24,60 remains (per month of 6,15 per week. Woopee! FUCK!)

Mon.3 81/50 19h39 D18 I can’t believe I slept through the night last night (after trouble falling asleep because Harry decided to conduct a general conversation in the hall AND THE BLOODY MORONS AT THE CONSTRUCTION SITE NEXT DOOR – BELLEVUE HOSP – WERE CUTTING AND HAMMERING WOOD WELL INTO THE NIGHT!) Woke around 7h. The usual morning routine. Out the door and to the library. Arrived 9h10. Immediate computer. (Appointment made for tomorrow morning again.) Fixed my “Art Blog” on WordPress. Will work on another for CV’s. One central repository for all CV’s. Went to the 5th floor. Psych and Counseling books! Took one out for reading. If I… NO! WHEN I get out of here I’m going full-force into Counseling! Using this time to refresh, renew and learn more. Ah, but the “Express Checkout” wanted an address confirmation so I had to go to the desk. No big deal. But how odd it should happen now, when I’m in the midst of “record-cleaning” with the banques. We’ll see. On the way out of the library, chatted with the security guard who is considering HHA work. So, at 11h35 I was at the D on 42nd. – 12h14 at Lefferts! Q10 to Sutter! It all went like clock-work because I didn’t want to be early. So I took a stroll for a few blocks. – Woah! The places come in to JFK SO CLOSE TO THE TREE-TOPS! TI WAS GREAT! – Got to HT’s at about 12h50. Clocked in at 12h58. Daughter got him dressed and into a wheel-chair and we were out on the front porch for about 45 minutes. In retrospect: They didn’t ask if I’d mind (for health or safety). Between that and brother Joey’s comment to the letter-carrier about “Schwartzes”, I’m seeing this family as another “Green” family… inconsiderate and not very bright. I’m “on guard”. But HT STOOD ALONE, 4 or 5 times at the rail! Excellent progress! I’m hoping it continues and improves. At 16h08 I left. Q10 Lefferts A Broadway-Nassau-Fulton (waited through 5 and 4), Brooklyn Bridge, 6, 28th. Here. – En route the reality of all of this past 50 days in this miserable shelter began to strangle me. I’ve been nauseous ever since. For several, long moments, as I crossed 28th street, I thought I’d lose my mind completely. I actually had to “hold on” consciously! – (20h18 signed-in already!) – It’s all really starting to get to me. Time to BOLD, GET GOING, GET MONEY, GET OUT! – As I queued, a guy named Patrick was coming in for the first time. I offered him the help I didn’t get when I came here. How strange it felt to go down “that hallway” again. But the incident took my mind off my anxieties for a while. But… there were here, waiting for me in this room. – 2 peanut butter/frosting sandwiches for meal. Roll a few cigarettes. I’m running low again! – Searched through the PIC papers for cheque cashing. Found it and how to report the cheque I didn’t receive. – Today, in Queens, it occurred to me: An “Unlimited” MetroCard will allow me to get to a lawyer to sue Premier and to travel about (back to Rockaway) and not have to be concerned about car-fare to work! Tomorrow I will be busy… FOCUS! ESCAPE! – Well, 20h31. All here are present. My stomach is knotted. 28degrees. The bloody generator is going in the lot next door. I’m planning my showers and HOPING for some sleep tonight. Vicodan? All I know is that I want OUT! – By the way: since I slammed the locker door the other night, it’s been “peaceful” in here. Just noting. –

Tue. 4 (November) (The BlackNote Book) 82 Homeless 51 Shelter (Recording on Wednesday, 5 Nov. 10h01, 5th floor MMLib) I was going to wait until I’d competed 100 pages of the other journal (having reached page 94 already). But I purchased and modified this book on the 4th and so, since it was a good day over-all, perhaps opening a new Journal on a “good” note will lend some “good” direction to the metaphysical and further entries will follow suit. As I say: Lettuce prey. – This morning, I took my time preparing to leave the shelter so as not to have time standing on 40th street, waiting for access to the library. It was a warm day and Angel’s jacket was a bit “over-kill”, but I had my “agenda” and no time to fall back. – Library. Internet. Looked-up Legal Aid offices for Harry (D19), cleaned-up the Art Blog on WordPress. Gleaned some useless e-mails and left. En route to the library I’d decided to check with PIC on the status of the missing cheque and had found the “free” cheque-cashing place nearby. So? Out the food and to PIC where, to my amazement, the cheque had been returned, marked “Moved”, addressed to me at B116th. No questions asked, I gave my ID, they gave it back with the cheque! – To cheque-cashing where, just before 11h, it was completely empty and yes, no hassle cheque-cashing. I cashed 2. Why not? I’d made a list of little items that I must have to keep moving forward and the fuck out of the shelter: a)black trousers, b)dress-shirt, or one with collar, c)dress shoes, comfortable, black, d)luggage to move OUT with, e)beard trimmer, f)”unlimited” (to begin my Freedom Train) MetroCard. For the next 7 days I won’t have any concerns about “carfare”, “case-workers”, vouchers, &c. Yes, it would be a delight to collect some extra cash. But, in the first place, I don’t’ trust anyone in that “system”. I keep thinking that there’s going to be a “cap” on the amount and/or a day of collection to get it all back. Never mind, I can’t trust any of them to provide the voucher or the cash regularly or timely. Better to have the means to get to work, in pocket. So, I do. And, I’ve got agencies to register with, agencies to re-connect with, lawyers I want to see, the post office, maybe even schule! I need the freedom to RIDE~! to TRAVEL! to GO! Bu 10h52 I was on the downtown Pelham/Lex. And by 10h55 I was back on the Brighton/Coney and off to Jackies and Ocean Parkway! Tired? Yes. Of course. Every night is the same: Midnight and the bloody-fucking trash takes to the halls to yell and rant, and shortly after, George comes stumbling in, drunk, clanging his locker. Not to mention the never-ceasing drone of the generator outside the window at the Bellevue construction site. But, at the moment, on the train, headed back to Brighton, I wanted more to see that I was “going” than to rest. – As the train crossed the Manhattan Bridge, I looked out at the East River, Noted Brooklyn to my right and, inside, I smiled! – Ocean Parkway! There was a strange bit of mist hanging low above the open ocean. The air was comfortably cool. I breathed deeply. Ocean air again! – The façade of Jackies is now quite clean, modern, glass. They renovated with the new construction above. But inside is the same: merchandise, arrangement, floor plan, prices, curt old Russian women. How wonderful to be back to the familiar! Too bad they had nothing on my list. Nothing my size. Nothing enticing. But I browsed a while. Truthfully, I was enjoying just being back in Brighton… my original refuge and respite from shit. – Departed from Jackies and walked along BBA toward CIA for the B68 to the “99cent Limit”. Passing what used to be “Bertha’s” (now Kings), I decided, having the time and carfare, to browse some more. Bingo! Flannel shirt: 4,99. Long-sleeve, blue T-shirt, heavy weight: 7,99. Black, linen pants (lined), drawstring, good length, thankfully adjustable waist: 2,99! Not “Perfect”. But “perfect” for now! – To the bus. 99cent? This journal, 2 cakes of soap, hangers (miserably cheap crap these days), banana chips (I was hungry), water (and thirsty) and a foam sanding block (to keep working on my feet!). Oh! Tah-dah! Shopping! Moving FORWARD toward moving OUT of this shit-hole-Hotel-Bellevue and BACK to MY existence! – It was about 13h30 by now. The sky was grey, my mood was almost brilliant. But!… I’d forgotten to LOCK my locker when I left and it was very much on my mind. Too many shit-heads wandering about the halls and dorms like free-range idiots and all with an eye for error… like mine. I got the trains back. Besides, I have great difficulty breathing lately and the weight of back-pack and purchases was getting to me. I needed to stop and a ride on the rails was good way to do that. – The B to Atlantic for the 5 to Brooklyn Bridge to the 6 to 28th. One “fling” purchase: A pack of Camel (Light) cigarettes! Ah, the joy. A filter. A cigarette! Normalcy! WTF? Why not? It made the walk toward the shit-hole a bit easier to handle. – In. 5W-101 was sweltering! Why there are 2 radiators, open full in that dorm is anybody’s guess. I was alone. Un-packed and decided: Need glue to convert this wire-bound to “non” and 20$ on the phone. Rite Aid on 31st and 2nd. Done. Return to dorm, “fix” the journal. – The others returned in time to rest before dinner. There’s precious little conversation of late… oddly, enough, since the night I slammed the locker door. Have I frightened them? Little Jew-boy can get pissed. Oh my! Who knows? Who cares? Oh well. I did have good conversation with Kendall though: The kinds of men in the shelter; 2 PhD’s, most of us are clean and presentable… &c. – As for the rest of the day? Common. The usual. I did get to sign-in shortly after 20h instead of having to wait until 21h or so. Showered shortly after, looking forward to an early sleep. You’d think that I’d know better by now. Yes, I did get under the covers by 22h but the bull-shit in the halls began shortly there-after. Most of these shit-heads don’t work, so they sleep as late as possible, leave when they must, come back when they can (16h) and go back to sleep. Under “normal” conditions it could be said that it’s depression. In this situation it’s bum-fuck laziness. So, as is the case, I laid in bed until fatigue took hold.
9.11 Sunday: How strange that this date should come up like this since what I want to get on here this morning (Monday at the Lib.) is “concerning”. It goes back to the snoring problem with 16. Today was bad enough, since I didn’t get much sleep last night because of the snoring. But sure as sht, didn’t it hit again tonight and just as surely, I’d had more than I could take! About midnight, I just couldn’t stay awake any longer and thought that if the rest of us had to suffer through this snoring bunk and be awake all night, he shouldn’t have the privilege of sleeping through it, waking the next morning all fresh and rested. So, the only thing I could think of was to toss a small plastic powder bottle at the wall above him and so, I did. What happened next should be documented so the world can see and know just how slanted the “justice” is in this shelter: 16 went into his locker. We (Ray and I) could hear him fiddling with the lock. What I didn’t know is that he (16) took out that “modified” paint roller he has had for more than a week now! It’s the “hook” and he went for it! Luckily, Ray noticed it, got up, turned on the light and confronted 16 with “Who you taking that weapon out for?” 16 denied there was any weapon but Ray and I both knew exactly what was going on. Ray left the room and said “We’ll see…” and in a few moments, in came Security. But what happened and transpired was a farce! The 2 from security questioned 16 about the weapon. He got up and almost did some sort of song and dance about somebody trying to kill him (with the powder). Finally, security, rather than look for the hook, took Ray and 16 to the Operations office for further investigation. While they were gone, I went to look for the hook. George noticed it between the locker and the wall, between his bed and 16′s! So I went and reported this to the security on the floor. This guy took his sweetass time getting to the room, and when he DID get there, took a look at the hook and smiled, saying “Is for painting…” By this time (shortly after midnight) I was pissed and exhausted. So I just looked at this guy and said “It’s been in here for almost a week! What I want to know is: How did he manage to get it into the building? Where was ‘security’ when he brought this in?” No comment… of course… Yet another moronic African who has been pandered to and allowed into the country to do nothing and get paid. (I’m just calling them as they are… no personal bias…) and out the door he went. Moments later, he returned, asked for a newspaper and picked the hook up off the floor. Ray and 16 were still out of the room. What happened exactly, I still don’t know. But when Ray and 16 came back, the argument continued with 16 threatening to get his son after Ray (he claims he’s in the Army here) and yelling “I’m a true African!” Ray got right up on him and they took the argument into the hall for a while. After several moments of mussing about the locker, 16 finally calmed down and Ray simply told him to turn out the light when he was done. I don’t like this idiot (16). He talks to himself and has told a story about being here for “political” reasons. He claims “they’re out to kill him” here and that Ray has been planted to do the job. He’s even claimed that Rick is part of some “curse” put on him and his family in Africa. Things are not so “kosher” about all of this….
10.11 Monday: 10h25 a tthe MMLib Since the sht hit the fan last night, I want to get some of this on this blog so it’s documented. WED.19: 10h17 MMLib I just have to post quickly this morning as the sht at the shelter seems to be happening fast and hot these past few days. In a conversation with R. the other evening I learnt that the “weapon” that 16 has been hiding (and was discovered and reported and taken by “Security”) was never reported officially. There’s something very not kosher about the situation and that Afrikan prick and I don’t like it. I don’t trust him and I certainly don’t like the fact that not only does he keep weaponry in the room, but he manages to get it into the building AND when it’s discovered, the incident is hidden. There are 3 others in that room. This moron is psychotic (he claims there are people in the Afrikan government planted in this country and in the shelter who are trying to kill him. Last night I heard him talking with some new face, another Afrikan, and again, the photos of the Ivory Coast were drawn out and the stories of persecution and attemted murder were the topic of the discussion. He swears R. is out to kill him. He swears the tall, bald guy down the hall is planted in the shelter to perform voodoo on him. I want to bring this to somebody’s attention, but since R. went to one of the supervisors with the weaponry report and it didn’t get documented, it looks like we’re all on our own.) OK. So I’ve put this out here, on the Internet. If anything should ever happen to any of us, let this be found? I’d appreciate it.

Wed.5. 83/52 19h32 5W-101 A rainy night. A comfortable 22degrees. Up this morning at 6h30, not so happy nor well-rested. But that’s the way of it lately. I need to get out of here! But, I showered, dressed, left at about 8h05 or so. I considered taking the M15 to 42nd street but actually walked up 1st Avenue to catch the M42 to 5th Avenue. An over-cast morning and very warm. The bus had about 4 or 5 cameras mounted in the ceiling. This is what the world has come to. – Oh yes… and Barack Obama won the Presidential election. A Black man in the White House. It this is what the nation wants, by the majority of votes, I say nothing. Otherwise, I think of a line I heard recently and can’t recall where: “How long before he becomes a martyr?” Observationally it proves that “Whites” are quite in the “REAL” minority and this will give the rest of the population the opportunity to show the world exactly what they are in terms of intelligence and humanity. Personally, I fear the worst. This may just be the time to re-think Israel and Montreal. Time to get out. Not so much for survival as for not bearing witness to the stupidity. But, inauguration isn’t until January and then 4 years. Time, only time will tell. Meanwhile, I’m wondering how Israel and Montreal are these days. I’ve resolved to re-commence the job searches, salaries, rents in both. Schmulik! EyFo atah? – Time on the computer went quickly, but I hit ALL the e-mail accounts this morning. Nothing of note in any, of course. Up to the 5th floor by 10h to begin this Journal. Left at 11h15 for the D train. What a pleasure to have the fare all ready! – Lefferts by 12h again, I walked back along Liberty, just because. Stopped at KeyFood, got cookies to kill the hunger. Grabbed the Q10 at Liberty and Lefferts. Arrived at HT’s at 13h. – Joey was sitting on the stoop when I arrived and wanted to discuss the election. Since I’m now aware a)There’s something not “right” about the 3 kids and b)they have no problem letting their prejudices be known, I just don’t want to get into any subject matter that could bring me to another “Albert Green” fiasco. Besides, I was about to clock in LATE! – As I walked in the door, needing to pee and wash my hands, Mary had her father in the wheel chair, ready to go out-side. I had time to put down my back-pack, click in and go to the porch with H! Well. The “nice” was bound to end eventually. Let it be now. – The 3 hours went along. But 14h we were inside due to drizzle. But H. and I had a good talk about the history of the house and neighbourhood as we had our coffee. At about 15h Mary took Joey to the bus. He’s headed to Windham for 6 days. Apparently they family has property of some sort up there. He’d actually wanted to hire me for a week-end so he could take H. up. I declined because of work on Saturday. This did not please “the children”. I don’t care. A trip to Windham would be lovely even a “working” trip. But no, NOT with this family. Something tells me “don’t”. I won’t. I left at 16h02. – Drizzle. Got the Q7 to the A to the L and, HAVING THE FARE, the bus right to the shelter! But, maybe it’s the cookies (the only thing I’ve eaten all day) or fatigue or depression, my stomach’s gone sour. Needless to say, this is slamming me hard. – Nobody at the entrance when I arrived. I went right along, got the elevator and was looking forward to being able to rest and relax for a while but when I got in the form? Pits! The odour of pits! Disgusting! 16! Something just doesn’t hit right. He bathes but the odour remains. I wanted to vomit, because of fatigue, depression, disappointment, the stench. So? – I did a wash. Diversion. Avoidance. Who cares? – After the wash, had “lovely chat time” in the hall with Kendall and Rey. – Oh! Received a reply to my Home Care advert on Luach.com! Must investigate tomorrow. 0 And, as I did the wash, had a chat with George who has been hanging with Liz (25 y/o) who has asked him to help her move boxes into storage. We did a little “therapy” this evening and, shockingly (to me) George wonders why Liz is attaching to him, considering he’s in a shelter. The boy’s thinking! I’d like to do a few :sessions” with him before I leave here. Maybe… oh, I don’t know. It would be nice to know I “did” “something” with my time here. – Well and anyway. It’s 20h32. George and Rey are napping. 16 is just sitting on the bed with his coat on, staring. Somebody shat in one of the toilets and, because it doesn’t flush properly (the line must be clogged) left the shit and wads of paper in it. The loo stinks so I finally flushes the bowl. Honestly? If I don’t get out of here soon, it’ll kill me. – As I’m writing, a guy from down the hall popped his head in the door: “Hey Judah. You writing your memoirs of the shelter?” Imagine? – Note. Rumour has it that today’s NY Times is re-selling at almost 200$! History. First Black president. I wonder where I can mooch a copy! – 20h45 Signed-in. The wonderful lady security guard is on this floor tonight. What a touch of “human-ness: ot talk, albeit, with her. – BUT WHEN I CAME BACK AND WENT TO OPEN MY LOCKER… A ROACH SCURRIED UP THE LOCKER DOOR! JUST AS I WAS NOTICING HOW “FRESH” IT SMELLS BECAUSE I KEEP THE SOAP-BOX OPEN! WELL, IT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN, CONSIDERING THIS PLACE. TOMORROW I’LL CHECK THE CALL FROM “MOSHE” ON THE “LUACH” POST. HOPEFULLY IT WILL BRING ENOUGH TO GET ME OUT OF HERE. Although, the fat remains: I’ve no furniture: no bed, no chair, no dishes, no clothes, no anything. But when I moved in at 232nd Street, I had nothing then too. So? – Time to shower. I’ve got… Talked with Rey. Lost the thought.

Thu.6 84/53 (7h47 Fri. morning) Up, showered, out by about 8h30. Stomach/bowels bad but… 6/L/A to Far Rock. Leetha at JCCRP. Carol Hayes at RHAS (finger print report still not in but when a case comes available they will call me). RF library from about 11-12h (putting prose on Dunes Sojourner), Mandel’s office (left message with secretary), walked around FR to V.I.M. (browsed, bought black sneakers at 19,99$ to make a set of “normal”clothes), passed by the “Fashion” store selling scrubs and got a set of navy (first sales woman, Indian, avoided me because of cigarette, second woman, very helpful. Man at register, Arab, addressed me as “Brother” as did Arab at bag-check). Rang “Moshe” (responded to advert of Luach)(he needs a tutor for handicapped foster son, 14 y/o, Hebrew, Yeshiva studies), Q22 to Post Office (another member of Bet El has died!), Waldbaums for “binding” food (Gristedes has ruined my EBT card!), walked Rock Freeway to 108 and RBB for bus to PHC. (Joycelyn on, very warm welcome from most of staff, hot meal in room, 15$, will see her Sunday). Left PHC about 17h30, train at Frank. Cloudy. Beautiful. Deep breaths of good ocean air. A/L to 1st Ave. Cigarettes at CVS, cheaper than Duane Reade. Arrived dorm, all in good spirits. “Hook” of some kind under D16. We’re concerned. Signed-in. Day passed quickly! Very tired. Stomach very unsettled. – Guys (Ken, Rey, Geo) all agog over porn mags (some from the “Emar”) – Anyway, too tired to shower, from discomfort bowels. To bed, no shower. Whole night: NO GENERATOR/PUMP/VERY PEACEFUL!

Fri.7 88/54 (on Sat.) Not exactly my “best” day in spite of looking forward to it when I woke, after a typically restless night, but one without the generator running. I was out by about 9h and, since libraries didn’t open until 10h I decided to take the rails and go to Tilden in the morning. 6 to 5 to 2 to the Q35. Ah, how peaceful Tilden was this morning. How encouraging to feel human. How comforting to breathe open air. –T6 was busy. People working on the Moon Stage, Geoff working about the studio, Penelope working on her latest sculpture. Talking with her is useless any ore. As of recent tomes, she just wants to be argumentative. She talks of things she knows little or nothing about and is vehement in her presentation. She insisted that Republicans have “always” been selfish and have “never” done any good for the country. This was her reaction to my having told her that they abolished slavery, gave western land to early settlers free, got the women the right to vote. She insisted that Israel is a terrible place to live because Israeli Jews are selfish and greedy., but she admits that she’s never been there. As I spoke, she interjected and went off on tangents. What I’d hoped would be relaxing and pleasant turned into an inconvenience. Tilden can only become my refuge as long as I avoid conversation. I don’t’ know what’s going on out there but there’s some sort of hostility in the air. At noon, I left, Q22 to 119th (not 116th). Walked to the P.O. My 66$ cheque for the week. – Met “G” waiting for the Q53. I was reluctant to talk with him, not knowing if he’d recognise me or if he’d even want to talk with me (RAA politics, ant-Semitism, the likes). But he came over, shook hands. We talked all along the bus ride until I got off at Rock. Blvd… at 13h06! LATE! I called the agency to tell them about my tardiness. – Finally arrived at HT’s at 13h38! Again, Mary had him ready to go sit out doors! I barely had time to clock in and didn’t have time to pee! H. was in down spirits. I sat with him, trying to help him into a better mood. Never did learn the bad news he’d received that put him in poor spirits. none of my business. I’d hoped to get him walking by the 27th. I don’t know that he will. I believe that he can, but won’t. Well, the day went along, sitting at the ramp in the cool evening until 16h08 when I left. – I’m glad I got the MetroCard. A to L to 1st Ave. for the bus. – But I discovered that I’d used all of my cash, save 5$ for MCU, and I wanted to get black pants and a tie. I MUST GET INTERVIEW CLOTHES AND GET OUT OF THE SHELTER AND OFF THE ISLAND OF MANHATTAN! IT’S GETTING TO ME NOW AND I CAN’T HANDLE IT! I’M HEADING TOWARD A BREAK-DOWN! – 2 peanut butter sandwiches for meal. No more bread. No more food. 9$ in Food Stamps. I don’t know if more will be posted on Monday. – MY TOWEL WAS STOLEN FROM THE FOOT OF MY BED TODAY! IT WAS DAMP FROM MY MORNING SHOWER. I’D HUNG IT OVER THE FOOT OF THE BED AS I’VE DONE ALL ALONG. WHEN I RETURNED THIS EVENING, IT WAS GONE! – And so, the day ended and I didn’t bother to shower. No generator running. To bed 22h34.

Sat.8. 86/55 10h57 D18 Woke at 8h25. Little shit and quick smoke. Feeling “detached”, “dissociated”, fatigued. Up twice because of snoring (16) during the night. Had to wait for a shower! The guy whom I’d seen “checking rooms” on Thursday was in the one shower that isn’t broken, taking his sweet-ass time! By about 9h30, I just took the other stall but, as he came out of “his” I noticed that he’s terribly bruised about the right side along the ribs! NOBODY should have to be beaten like that (unless he provoked it somehow, but since I’ve been in here, in this “shelter”, – now there’s a friggin’ joke: shelter! – I’ve learnt better. It takes nothing and no reason for some of these dregs to try and display their frail “masculinity” by picking fights where none need be. All I say lately is: this will be running the nation.) So, I simply went about my shower. – 10h appointment with Uloma. Curt. Brief. I showed her my first pay-cheque stub in the envelope marked and labeled by the post office showing it was misdirected. She accused me of giving the agency the wrong address. She “waived” the “savings requirement” of 60% because it’s my first pay. THEN she asks why I’m not working full-time, AGAIN she asks. I’ve been over this with her at least 5 times! THEN she suggests I look for other work and go for CAN training. SHE OFFERS NOTHING! BUT CAN SUGGEST ALL SORTS OF SHIT! When I told her I’m putting together some clothes to go for other work, she tells me about the clothing room here. I tell her, I’ve been. She asks me what days I work next week. I tell her: Mon.Wed.Fri. She asks what days I have off. I tell her: Tue. And Thurs. She tells me to come to her on Mon. and she’ll give me a list of places that give clothing. I remind her that I work on Mon. She digs into her desk and tosses a list at me. She then instructs me to follow her across the hall. As we leave the office she asks if I’ve corrected the mailing address for my pay. I simply say “Of course.” She copies my pay stub. I ask her if we could possibly change the time of my appointments with her… “WHY?” “BECAUSE I HAVEN’T BEEN TO A SYNAGOGUE IN ALMOST 2 MONTHS. I’M A JEW (I WEAR MY KIPPA AL THE TIME! I THOUGHT) AND SERVICES ARE ON SATURDAY” “AT WHAT TIME?” “9:00.” “UNTIL WHEN?” “NOON.” “YOU’LL COME TO SEE ME AT 8.” AND SHE CALLS THE NEXT NAME ON HER LIST. I? I JUST WALKED AWAY FROM HER. NO SENSE DISCUSSING ANYTHING. SHE’S OBVIOUSLY TOO STUPID TO GRASP ANYTHING OTHER THAN WHAT HER FEEBLE NIGERIAN MIND HAS BEEN PROGRAMMED FOR… INCLUDING ANTI-SEMITISM. And, so, I journal, at 11h43, in relative darkness. 15 & 16 sleep. 17 is out somewhere. – I made a point of stressing, and I DO mean “STRESSING” the facts that I don’t eat here, I no longer receive car-fare, all I want is a place to shower and sleep but above, beyond all else, I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE SOON AND QUICK. – Truth is, my mood, my mind, even my body and being have gone sour. I’ve no patience. I’ve no charity. I’ve no capacity. – So, I’m trying to decide where to go on this frigging bloody day. I’m hungry. I want to get to the libraries. I’d like to do “the old circuit” (The City, Brooklyn and Queens) but I’d have to remove the kippa (I should think). But you know? Maybe I just won’t. Maybe I’ll just go, be a 21st Century Jew and go. Be defiant. Be realistic. Be “me”. After all: who the fuck are the rest of the world to “judge” me? (I’m jus tin a bad mood all round.) – 18h06 Another day gone. I never went out and now I’m hungry. 15$ in my wallet and 9$ in Food Stamps and admittedly, I’m just being too damned lazy to go get something to eat. And, I’m just watching time go by until sign-in and sleep. Napped for an hour from about 12-no-15-15h. Time is wasted in this hell-hole. – Rey is talking about being out by moth’s end. If I’m still here, it means getting somebody else in that bed. I dread that. I dread being here then. I dread being here in 5 minutes from now. Why don’t I have what it takes to make more money? How did I get dealt the “poverty” card? In a week’s time, it will be 2 months in here! I absolutely MUST get OUT! But how? I NEED to know! I’m not asking “Why?”. I’m asking “How?”. – This evening was quite “interesting. The 3 of us, 15, 17 and 18, had quite a few laughs: Rey, Danny, Alex and the group usually pass the time in a game of dominoes. Tonight, every time somebody came to get Rey, he refused to go. It seems Alex plays by his own rules and those rules change to fit his position of “Win or Lose”, and, when he loses, he’s one of those who plays the game as a mater of life or death, taking the fun out of it. So, the arguments erupt about who plays fail, who makes it uncomfortable (and who needs to bathe… a common topic in the shelter). “I don’t want to play with…!” “Aw… c’mon!” “No! Because…” So I took what George called “The Perfect Parent” position saying things like “You’re grounded!” and “If you boys can’t play together nicely…” and “I’m going to take the dominoes and put them in my locker until…” and the clincher came when I got up, headed for the door saying “I’m just going to have to have a talk with Alex’s parents!” We got such laughs! It’s great to be able to laugh in these conditions. As I say (to others as encouragement AND to remind myself): the moment you stop laughing, start worrying. So true. It’s a sad and miserable way to exits: in this shelter where there are so many people trying to rip human dignity out of you, right through your chest. To find the “Truth” in it all; that it isn’t worth the seriousness, and to laugh is healthy. To think that I was so very nervous and anxious about coming to this room (5W-101). I’ve been fortunate, for 2 out of 3 of my “room-mates” and most of the guys on this floor. I say “2 out of 3” of the room-mates because 1 of them, 16, worries me, what, with his stories of being hunted, someone trying to kill him, his poor bathing habits and snoring… not to mention that he mumbles to himself. But, we get a laugh. It’s refreshing.

Sun.9 87/56 Payment for the good moments came quickly during the night. That generator/motor/pump was off, giving some pretty shocking peace in the room BUT! The bloody-fucking SNORING ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT! IF I slept an hour total, it was quite an accomplishment! So, when I got up to shower at about 8h30, I was still exhausted! This is bull-shit! That shit-head sleeps through the night, keeping Rey and I (George is usually bombed and so, sleeps through well enough) at sleep depravation levels! I do know that the snoring is unintentional and that perhaps I should make an agreement with 16 that, should he snore at night, I can tap him or the bed and hopefully he’ll roll to a position where it will stop. But that’s all in a “Gentleman’s World”. This is a shelter. I don’t’ know how that would go over. So… – The day: The subways are screwed up. No news there. The morning trip went along: 6 to 4 to Nevins to 2 to The Junction to the Q35. Arrived T6 about 12h45. The day was shot. And the “ladies” were hanging the next exhibit (ANOTHER one I’m missing!!!) Cold shoulder greeting from Tommy at one point. Penelope running about, as usual, making herself important to her-self. I tried to offer assistance but?… But… I finally let the “ladies” go ahead (the pictures aren’t level – with the floor, ceiling, each other – none of my business). Then! Jose shows up and Penelope goes into her “grandeuse”, coming to me like a little high-school girl telling me how she’s all flustered and how much he wants her. Well Penelope. I this is what your 87 or 88 (Janet calc’ed: Married at 13, 2 sons born maybe 5 years later, they’d be 70 – she’s around 87 or 88) year old mind needs to tell itself (along with telling me to make myself scarce), so be it. Geriatrics should be allowed their harmless phantasies. And so, I stayed and enjoyed just being back on the Peninsula… back on “The Rock”. – It was a glorious day anyway. – Left at about 15h. Q22 to PHC .Well. In spite of the fact that I told her I’d be there today, Jocelyn didn’t bring those “bags” she keeps telling me about. I was a bit relived., to be honest. I don’t’ have space in the locker and I wasn’t looking forward to carrying too much back on the busses and trains. Then too, there’s coming in at the shelter: metal detectors and scanners and searches. Too much “stuff” take too long, slows the line and pisses people off (including me, I must admit). But, I did get a hot meal tonight. It’s the part of the visit I appreciate. Apparently the staff knows about it too. Seems they know I’m in the shelter and are supportive of me. Phelicia (one of the Nurses who had been assigned to me while I was in PHC) came to me and said “How could you forget me after all I was your Nurse?” I assured her that I remembered everybody’s name: some for good, some for not-so-good. But when I said something about being remembered and warmly welcomed back, having not annoyed anybody she replies “Are you sure you didn’t annoy anybody?” I assured her that I know that there are some who don’t like my presence at PHC but I don’t’ particularly care. (I didn’t say how hateful I am that I got “thrown out” and tossed into the shelter). So, the evening went. Joc gave me her phone number… but tonight, no money. What a relief that was! I’m already up to 75$ I owe her. All told with all my heart and soul, although I don’t’ know why she’s taken such care of me, she’s been my Blessing, my Angel, my Hope. Dear,. Sweet. Wonderful! – Leaving: Q22 to 116 for the Q35 to The Junction, 2 to Nevins to the Jerome to the Pelham. I was back by 20h. Tired. Exhausted and looking forward to sleep. Nobody will ever know the pain I suffer when it comes to leaving Rockaway. And tonight I brought a snail shell back. Heavy. As if something’s in it. But is has no odour and somebody put a “Mag lite” to it. Empty. But heavy. I’m keeping it in a “zip-lock” bag just in case. If there’s a crab in it and it gets out in the shelter, one of these bastards will kill it. Hopefully it is empty and I can hold onto it… as a reminder of my ultimate goal: to back to The Rock… successfully. It hurts terribly to leave there. – Well, let’s blame it on sleep deprivation but tonight? THE SHIT HIS THE FAN AND SPLATTERED THE WALLS! TONIGHT TURNED INTO A “NIGHT IN THE SHELTER”! ALMOST COMPELTE WITH MURDER! I was almost midnight, the room was dark, the generator was off, relative quiet and all 4 of us were asleep when the snoring began… in earnest! Not just a steady, light, regular snoring but the intermittent low, grumbling mixed with snorts. I tossed. I turned. I waited for Rey to say something or bang something. When it didn’t happen my own thoughts turned to thinking how unfair it is: Rey and I work. 16 doesn’t (the snorer). Here we are, awake for more than half the night because he (16) won’t change his sleeping position or make any effort to stop the snoring and there he is, sleeping soundly and snuggly. I snapped. I quietly opened my locker, took the little plastic bottle of talc and tossed it into the corner over bed D16. Thwack. Thud. Next thing I know, he’s up and fumbling in his locker, in the dark. Then Rey gets up, goes calmly to the door, turns on the light, goes back toward his bed and yells. “Yo! Who you takin’ that weapon out for?” (About a week ago, I happened to glance across the room, under bed 16 and noticed a long handle of some sort. I brought it to Rey’s attention and, on closer observation we discovered it was a paint roller with the extension for the roller cut off. Effectively, it was now a sharpened “hook”. At the time, we said nothing but…) The idiot had taken the “hook” out of his locker! When confronted by Rey, he went into a rage, accusing Rey of trying to kill him “wi dis!” (the talc bottle). I feigned waking at the moment, looking confused. I said nothing. Rey denied trying to kill anybody and assured the raging idiot that IF he wanted to kill him, it would be done, certainly, quickly and there wouldn’t be an argument about it. Again, he asked after the hook. 16 denied having a weapon at which point Rey calmly said “We’ll see about that.” And left the room. – While Rey was gone, 16 moved to the wall-end of his bed and put something on the floor. I couldn’t see what it was. He sat there. – Rey returned with 2 “security” guys who asked to see the “weapon”. 16 denied having a weapon and returned to accusing “Sumbuddy try to keel me wi dis!” holding the powder. Security told him to open his locker. He refused. They told him they could cut the lock, if necessary. Again, he refused. So, at that point, they, “security” told Rey and 16 to go with them, downstairs, to “Operations”. Out they went. – George finally woke up and, the room, being still, I went over to find the denied “weapon”. Not under the bed but George discovered it between the locker and the wall! Between the beds (15, George, and 16). We left it there and I went to get “security” to bring it to the evidence. Ah we.., what do you suppose? African “security”. He comes in, looks at the blatantly obviously modified item and, with a smile says (in catastrophic English) “Ees for paint!” I snapped at him “NOT like THAT ees not for paint?” I didn’t want to fight with 16 but I was prepped to plow another African bastard idiot tonight! Unfortunately, this one went strolling out the door, essentially leaving an obviously potential confrontation. Moments later, he returned, asked for a newspaper, wrapped the handle of the hook and strolled out. – It was about 1h on Monday morning when Rey and 16 returned. 16 wanted further confrontation but Rey told him to shut up and get some sleep. I did. I think the 3 of us slept a little better, knowing that hook is gone.

Mon.10 88/57 Up this morning, feeling like shit. Aching head. Burning eyes. Tired as all hell. Well? Only about 3 hours of sleep last night! Fucking bull-shit! But, I did take a little solace (and, admittedly, joy) knowing that 16 didn’t sleep well last night either. – Headed for cheque-cashing. Empty! A delight. Then directly to the MMLib for a few hours. Nothing really accomplished on the Internet but time successfully passed. It was a chilly morning and I was in no mood to wander aimlessly. – Clocked-in at 12h59! Mary wanted to send H. and I out for a while but decided it was just too cold. I was relieved. I DID work with Herman today and he actually stood, on his own, not holding the walker. I truly do want to see him walking, with the walker, by the 27th. Anyway, as it was time to clock-out, came the runs! I don’t’ understand it. There’s so little in my body these days. It was a ride back to the shelter with a lot of mouth-breathing and holding my bowels! But tonight we were able to have a few chuckles again. – First, the “concern”: It seems Wards Island Shelter suffered a power failure and DHS bussed most of the “residents” over here. So many, in fact, that the 8th floor here became bed-space! The Wards Island bunch are rumoured to be “seasoned” and un-civil. “Concern”. – Meanwhile, I moved my bed from the wall and discovered a centipede stowed away. (I’d been “entertaining” Kendall and the crew with “Wingdale: antics, using my blanket as a take-down sheet. Kendall kept telling me that I’m frighteningly convincing.) My heart went out to the poor insect. It reminded me of my mountains. But Rey wanted it “gone”. As the poor bug tried for escape, Rey moved his locker in frantic search for it. The same man who, just last night, invited battle with 16 (who, by the way, shot a few threats on Rey’s life saying “I am a true African!”) was now panicked because of this little creature. Well, it all passed and, to my relief, the centipede disappeared. I returned to the “Courtyard” (hallway) for a while. – Later, Rey got up to leave, stopped at my bed and said “Old man, can I go play?” (dominoes). I said “Yes, As long as you place nice [sic].” See? We can have good moments in spite of all the bull-shit… and our environment and circumstances. It certainly isn’t “Home”. It certainly isn’t comfortable. We’re certainly not happy here. But we do manage out better moments. So, Rey went to play. – George and I talked about dances of the 80s, New Wave and House music (he had the radio on and I recalled that it’s been a good… good?… 4 years since I was able to sit and listen to the radio. We talked “clubs”. The Tunnel, Limelight, Pyramid. He’s ten years younger than I but managed to have “some” fun with what was left-over from “my days”. – Ah, so, another day gone. Not too bad. My stomach is horrible. I’ve got Food Stamps (and an increase too!). Rey let me use his cell phone to report that mine won’t “swipe”. I have to go to B59th to take care of it… on Thursday. So? Who needs an excuse to go “Home”? Not I! – What I meant to write before is: Rey let me use his phone to report that my EBT card won’t swipe. I’m trying to write and pay some attention to what’s going on around here. Every evening there’s a buzz, everybody coming in and out of the room. It’s a double-edged situation: to be popular is good in this environment. To be too much alone and solo can be dangerous. But how I miss, and need those days of coming “home: from work or travel, to be alone with restful down-time. But not to be now. Creation continues to punish, and I still don’t’ know what wrong I’ve committed. I’ll most likely dies never knowing. Life is a curse, not a gift. That’s why we have no choice in the matter of being born.

Tue.11. 89/58 Veterans’ Day/Remembrance Day/Linens Day. Woke. Showered. Got my linens. I’m up to 4 blankets on the bed and 3 sheets covering the mattress. Today’s sheets were crisp, fresh, clean. The pillow case had the odour of having been stored somewhere enclosed for too long. So, but, and, I made the bed and headed out the door into a lovely day. Cool. Clear. Nice. – Decided on the train to The Junction, just in case of screw-ups on the A. The connections were pretty good too. – At The Junction I decided to drop into Target to check on beard trimmers and, good news or bad news, found a Remington, rechargeable, for 20$. I prefer my old one. I don’t like being trapped into needing electric for this thing (as with the phone!) but I need a hair cut and a good beard trim so I’ve lost the 20$ and gained a trimmer. No doubt, it comes with regrets. – Trimmer with, on the bus, out to Fort Tilden. – The travel over Marine Park Bridge was magnificent! Clear skies! Perfect views across the Peninsula, over to Coney, out to sea! It was an absolute delight to be back! I’d been thinking about charging the trimmer and doing a hair cut. I was almost weak from hunger and was hoping to get a slice or 2 of the frozen pizza I bought and put in T6 for the weed-heads, in case they got hungry some night while they smoked themselves into a state of mental retardation. The same pizza that seems to disturb Penelope and Geoff simply wanted to throw away. Yes, all that bothers me. Wasteful ingrates. But, I was to get nothing: no haircut nor food. Penelope wasn’t there so I had no access to anywhere. Undaunted, I decided to head into The For, get some cell-phone photos to sketch. – As I approached T6, Tommy was coming out of T7. We were the only 2 people in the Fort. I’m reluctant to talk with him these days. I can’t say why, exactly. It’s more of a gut feeling that tells me that he’s not to be too close. I may be wrong, but I may be right. He called to me. We chatted a bit. He asked if I’m working and still in the shelter. He offered that he was en route to Brooklyn, having been in Rockaway for 2 days, phone dead, needed rest. (As I write and think about it, I’m grateful to him for the offer of the bus. But when I look, he takes odd jobs, off the books because he can’t hold a legit job due to some felony. He spends most of his time getting drunk or stoned and mucking about RAA with working guys or with Geoff – who paints pictures, looks like shit and gets stoned. THIS is what Penelope has aligned herself with. And I should feel somehow “less than” that because I’m in the shelter? Not!) So, we parte ways. He strolled out to the bus, I strolled into the back fort. I was alone! It was quiet! It was great! I ducked into Harris W. for some photos and a truly brief Battery K. And I mean “brief”. But accomplished. Continued along Ranger to the end and to the Cement Rd/fishermen’s parking lot. Stopped at Battery Kessler for some out-side photos. I didn’t have my light so didn’t actually get in for good exploration. A few photos of the “view” and a stroll down to “my dune” for a few photos there. It’s almost odd how “attached” I feel to that spot and how I actually wish that I could go back. When I got to the tree, it was the same. And I started looking for other, better spots to be ready for Spring! That time out in the open really did something to me and now I want to go back to it! – A stroll on the beach got me a conch shell, in good condition! A dead star-fish was washed in. The beach is terribly eroded these days. The Winter months are coming. You can tell by the beach and the shells. You can tell if you know what to look for. – it was just the perfect day out there. Just the perfect day, even though I was actually weakened from not eating all day. And so, at about 15h30 I headed back to The City. The Q35 got delayed because the Marine Park Bridge opened. I didn’t care. The sun was just a beautiful gold, washing over everything. I was at peace. (My stomach/bowels, on the other hand, were in turmoil all day.) – When I got to 29th and 2nd, I went shopping for what could have been food for 2 days but became one meal. Hey! I was almost starving! I need coffee but, since glass if forbidden in the shelter and the DHS crew is new, I just don’t want to be bothered with the formalities. I’ll need to get the coffee and put it into zip-lock bags. Yet, another reason to get out again… SOON! – When I arrived at the dorm, it was empty! I was alone to make my sandwiches (4) and eat my yoghurt. Not “Kosher” but just at this moment, I didn’t care! I made the meal and as has been the situation these past YEARS, I shoved the food in so fast that I tasted none of it. I am not to ever enjoy eating anything, ever again. What made it all the more “enjoyable” was when, not 20 minutes after I’d done eating I was bolting to the loo! Good thing I didn’t stop to eat at Tribute Park! Add to that the fact that some idiot shat all over the bowl in the next stall and didn’t clean it! Food consumption was such a pleasant even all round. Right! Fuck! – So, I tried to settle in, nap, enjoy being alone when Rey came in. Not for long and he was out the door. Said he was going to get something to help him-self get some sleep. Moment later, the rum arrived. I was invited to share, and so I did! Sadly it didn’t touch me in the least. – Down the hall, one of the guys was having a porn-night. Kendall dragged me down to see, as if I should be interested in straight porn, or any porn for that matter, at this point. And what a charm listening to 2 men in the room discussing how small their penises are compared to the Black men on the video (so now I know why I’m considered “large”). Then, Richard (who still strikes me as familiar and I can’t figure why) asks “Are you supposed to be watching this?” because of the kippa. I said “Probably not ‘supposed to’ but what’s the problem?” They actually look at me as being quite religious. Maybe Rachel was right: wearing the kippa is lucky. (And maybe I’m Golda Mier). – So, we shared the rum, had good talk, everybody in the room accounted for tonight. – George admired the conch shell and wanted it. I promised it to him either when he leaves or I, which-ever comes first. – Tuesday’s dead.

Wed.12 80HomelessDays/59ShelterDays.11h40 MMLib Restless night. The earplug didn’t completely block the snoring (of 16 AND George). I’m quite tired. Up. Peed. Brushed teeth. Tried the beard trimmer. I need to muck with it to figure it out. Showered. Dressed. Out with Rey. MMLib at 9h! Immediate appointment on the PC but is SLOWED for the last 20 minutes so I LOST the last 10 when I got fed-up. Came to the 5th floor to catch-up and complete Mon. and Tue. Entries. SHIT! I HAVE TO LEAVE FOR WORK! – 19h47 D18 The old brain is finally showing signs of wear. 11h45 and I’m sitting in the library as though I’ve not a place in Creation to go to. Just there, writing along. Well. No matter. I clocked-in at 12h59. Herman was tired today but I read him the Riot Act: If he’s not interested in improving, I’m wasting my time with him. Steven (the son) over-heard and gave me the “thumbs up”. Mary approved as well. I know there’s more to H’s inability to walk than simple laziness. I do know this. But I also know that he’d given up a while ago and, there’s the fact that his kids are living in his house that bothers me. (Chit! I didn’t get to do that: live at my parents’ until well past the age of independence. And I NEVER has the opportunity to get firmly established and ready to be tossed around. I’m in a fucking shelter now! And I’ve no sympathy for others.) So, I’m looking to get him some of his (H.) independence back, as much as is humanly possible. My existence is bloody-fucking fucked. Maybe I can make somebody else’s better… if not my own. – On the way back to the shelter, stopped to get more yoghurt and some dinner AND COFFEE! The yoghurt really does help my intestinal problems. Probably because my diet is so miserable. As for the coffee? Bought a jar of instant, stopped at the projects on 28th and emptied the jar into a zip-lock bag! SO fucked-up! But, got it all through “security” at the door. – Came in. Ate. (If “eat” is what you want to call it.) Did a small wash. Everybody’s quite quiet this evening. It’s 28degrees in here right now. This place goes from hot to cold. It’s miserably un-healthy. – Oh! As I came in this evening, I saw and chatted with Mike (formerly A109)! Just as I’d been thinking: Dennis, Angel, Sydney, probably Sonny are gone. A familiar face! I haven’t heard from Dennis in a long while. I have to call Angel when I have time on the phone. And one of these nights I’ll have to sneak up to the 7th floor at sign-in to see if anybody’s left. I wonder what’s become of Jesus up there. Shit. My presence won’t be of any note up there. Not that it should matter at all. Not that opinions in here should. – Well! 20h21. I’m right up to date with this! – (Or, so I thought) At some time around 23h, the yelling and hollering commenced! And, in earnest! The Viet Cong down the hall, drunk, no, nasty, loud drunk started hollering what sounded like “Harry!” at the top of his lungs. Simple foot steps in this hall echo terribly. This yelling was almost ear-shattering! The night wasn’t bad enough, being so hot in the dorm that I slept on top of the covers. I’d only just about fallen asleep when this shit began. Well, of course, our “security” team was called to the scene. Tonight they missed no opportunity to show us all just how completely useless they are. The VC kept yelling and they stood, gawking! If it hadn’t been so annoying, their completely moronic stance and gawk, it might have been amazing. But it went on like that for 45 minutes, if not an hour before 2 DHS cops came and, at long last, hauled the shit off the floor in cuffs! Why it had to take so long is what burns me. But, as I say, “security” showed their stupidity and uselessness in full colour and glory; from the stupid Africans to the fat little White dykish thing. – When silence returned, I turned and went to sleep. Close the day (at 1h the following morning… SHIT!)

Thu.13 91/60 DAYS AT THE SHELTER. But Saturday is the official 2 months. It’s 19h39. 28,5degrees. At 4h52 the Viet Cong was back on the floor as if nothing had happened! I say no more. THIS describes this entire place and the system all by itself. Suffice to say, VC ended-up back in his bed and when we all woke, he was soundly asleep… again, as if not one blessed thing had happened. Life and justice in the shelter. – And so, we move along to the day. Moving. On the go. On the run. Non-stop! In the rain. (And did my Gaston look beautiful today!) – Woke at 7h15. For the shower, dressed and out the door. My bowels were grinding but I just kept going… moving… on the run. 6.L.A.Straiton.B59th. Very quick. Very polite when they put my FS card number in the computer, there was a glitch. Somehow, the application for Medicaid (which still hasn’t been approved) messed my case number. But it was all resolved and in moments, I was back on the A to Jay Street for my new card. When I got to Brooklyn, the rain was coming steady and I just couldn’t remember how to get to Livingston! Asked a cop. Straight down Smith! At the office, it was another matter of moments and I was out the door, in the rain, with the old card and the new. The “Seq” changed from 3 to 4. – Back on the A to the post office Empty! Nothing. Oh well. It’s not like I’m corresponding with the world of late. So, I got the shuttle to Broad Channel and the A to Mott. To the FRLib. Brief wait and a computer. I managed to compete my first 3 days of this Journal on the WP blog. Little by little, it goes on-line. Little by little this will get louder and louder. To what end? I don’t know. But I want it off the note page and on the web page! – I’d planned on trying “the loop” (Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan libraries) but got back on the A at 15h, hungry and tired. Homesick to The Rock too. I decided to shop for something to eat and head to the shelter. It was very difficult, leaving my Peninsula today. It would have been a joy to stay… at home. Creation is cruel and Life is a burden. – When I got off the train (at LONG last) I didn’t dare go to Gristedes with the new card. I recalled going to D’Ag when Zur and I were on 24th. Sure enough! It’s still there. So, I did “dairy” food shopping for dinner. But, as I got to the front door, I stopped to look across the avenue at 330. Zuri… why? How? Why? What happened? I’ll never know. But I’ll always wonder. – And so, I did my shopping and tonight’s dinner consisted of 2 cream cheese sandwiches… an entire block of cream cheese and a yoghurt. This dairy will either flush through or stop-up. We’ll see… eventually. – Got in about 17h. Washed my jeans. It was hot enough to dry them. And so, I’m ready for the night… hopefully, to sleep.

Fri.14 92/61 22h18 (On ASat.10h38. It’s pouring rain. I’m in no mood to battle it.) Daily news: Took my time leaving this morning and got to the library about 30 mins early. In. On-line. Checked e-mails. Blogged another day and bolted at about 11h or so. – Post office. Paycheque. Lettre from ChexSystems that told much, said nothing, dated 6 Nov. Getting this shit settled is going to take more time. Time, something I don’t have! So, I got the paper, got the bus, got to work at 13h13. H. is having a bad time of it now. Weakness in both legs. It concerns me. I hope it’s only transient… for his sake and mine. Truth about this case: I could work very well with him… alone. His kids are unrealistic and demanding of him. They let him deteriorate over a period of years and now they expect everything to be repaired, 3 hours a day, 3 days a week. ButI’m paid for what I can do. I’m trying. – 16h30 I’m on the bus. It’s drizzling. It’s Friday evening. No cash. Half pack of cigarettes. Chocolate chip cookies and PopTarts left to eat. Another week-end. Another typical week-end of hunger and deprivation… with one exception: THIS week-end I have decided: I AM A GOOD HUMAN BEING WHO HAS SPENT HIS ENTIRE LIFE TRYING TO DO THE BEST POSSIBLE FOR EVERY OTHER HUMAN BEING. I HAVE BEEN A GOOD JEW, TRYING TO FOLLOW THE LAWS, RULES, REGULATIONS OF MY TRADITION, HERITAGE AND RELIGION. I’VE RETURNED TO WEARING MY KIPPA, AS A SIGN OF PRIDE AND IDENTITY. THIS IS THE 21ST CENTURY NOW. OUR “LAWS” ARE, FOR A GREAT PART, OUT-DATED. NOT THE LEAST, THESE TIMES REQUIRE FLEXIBILITY IN SO MANY WAYS. SO, IF I NEED TO CONDUCT BUSINESS ON SATURDAY, GET MY CHEQUE CASHED, GO TO ROCKAWAY, &C. THERE IS NO REASON THAT I SHOULDN’T… EVEN WHILST WEARING MY KIPPA. I’M STILL A JEW; STILL A GOOD HUMAN BEING! AND, I’M ABOVE PRESUMPTION OF OTHERS. IT’S TIME TO BEGIN A NEW SCHOOL OF THOUGHT AND BEHAVIOUR. SO, IF POSSIBLE, I’LL CASH MY CHEQUE ON SATURDAY, RIDE THE TRAIN TO ROCKAWAY. AND I’LL BE A JEW WHO ANSWERS TO NOBODY BY MYSELF AND GOD! So, we’ll suffer through hunger tonight and see what tomorrow brings on. And so, that decided (decided)… a night at the Castle Bellevue. – Tonight, Kendall decided to come in all but completely wasted! So many of us banned together to make certain he didn’t leave to go out and get more drunk. There’s a remarkable camaraderie in here. But the shocker came when one of the “security” guards (Juliet) came to get him to escort him to sign-in and then escorted him back! When I went to sign-in she said “He’s drunk but I don’t’ want him to lose his bed.” A nice, “good”, kind woman. How rare! How wonderful – And so, the night went along into the usual. George went out. Rich tried to remind him to get his shit together. And the rest of us try for sleep. I say “try” because there are steel plates on the street outside and they bang and rumble as cars and busses run over them. Life cannot be peaceful. Somehow, I’m not worthy of peace.

St.15 93HOMELESS/62SHELTER/2MONTHS.DATE.SHELTER 15h27 DREAMS: Last night I dreamt that I was in a hurry to get out of here but had to see Uloma for some reason before leaving. I arrived on time but there was a crowd waiting to see her when I go there. She’d told me that she would see me right away but when I got to the door of her office, she walked down the hall (toward the East Wing) saying something about needed to do some other business first. I was nervous about my appointment and pissed because she’d lied to me. – I just woke from an hour’s nap and another
DREAM: I was out at The Fort. The old man had driven me out. He was working out there on some carpentry thing. I as waiting on a chair outside a “DuaneReade/Walgreens” sort of store. Nancy (Tommy’s girlfriend) was there, waiting. We were talking when 2 guys whom I knew came in. One had a plastic package with an opened bottle of cologne in it. “This just doesn’t look good.” he said as the other one went into the store. I recognized the two from the shelter and knew they were up to no good. I got up, said bye to Nancy and went to find the old man. I asked Nancy “Are you going into town?”… Town. The City.” (meaning 116th) She said she wasn’t. The old man (I never say his face in the dream because hw was wearing a hooded sweat-shirt) said to me “There’s somebody looking for a ride out of here but I don’t know who it is.” He wanted to give the person a lift. “Sounds like it might be Tommy.” I said. I turned to go look for him to ask and… I woke up.
– This morning, I took my time getting ready to see Uloma. I’d want4ed to go to services this week but instead of making my appointment with her in the afternoon, she wanted me to see her at 8h. Even if I’d gone to 23rd Street, it wouldn’t have given me enough time to get there. And, sure enough. I showed up at her office at 9h45 and her list already had about 6 names on it! She comes out of the office telling me that she’d called me already. I asked her how that was possible. “Isn’t your name on the list?” “Not yet. I’m just getting here to sign.” She took the next on the list. I waited. 2 before me. (Last night’s dream?) So, when I finally got to her, she asked when my meal ticket expired (end of the month), she gave me the supposedly “bi-weekly”-but-“weekly” “Re-assignment” forms to sign (she told me I’d get one bi-weekly but she gives me one every week).Asked if I’d gotten more hours on the job. I told her I hadn’t but PIC has an “Open House” on Monday and I’m going to attend. “Why are they looking for more people when they can’t give more hours to those they already have?” She asks me. “That’s what I’m going to ask them on Monday.” I recounted how, on our first meeting, she’d told me how I was new to the system on the 5th floor and wasn’t asking any questions. I’ve learnt, I assured her, to ask. She actually remembers the incident and smiled. I figure, she’s proud for having imparted some sort of wisdom. Meanwhile, I’m simply “ego-stroking”. She told me that I need to get full-time hours and when I’ve had 30 days of full-time work I’ll be eligible for housing assistance. She recommended a security job. 1 class of 8 hour and I’m “Certified”. 10$/hour to start. Full-time job immediately. She claims she’s done it. But she also claims to have a law degree that she gave up after some years to do social work. Claims her daughter gave up anesthesiology for a general practice. Her son is giving up telecom for security. I wish I trusted her but, I have no reason to do anything of the sort. We also discussed the plants in her cubicle. She claims her house if full of them as well. Well? As I say: trust, I have none. – Kendall came by. He’s out to look at an apartment they’ve arranged for him to take. As I’m to understand it, they pay rent and security, give furniture allowance and a pots-and-pans-and-dishes set up. His “new place” is out on Eastern parkway. Flatbush, I believe. I’m looking forward to hearing about it. – Spoke with Dennis B. today! He phoned this morning. I called back. He’s still at Forbell, working in the kitchen there, washing dishes and doing as much as he can to “avoid the riff-raff” as he puts it. Says the residents are unthankful and it’s getting to him. What amazes me is his “sensitivity”. He’s in the system. How can he retain sensitivity? Personal sensitivity! Says he pulls breakfast, “brunch” and dinner shifts (at no pay) just to avoid the residents. Has found friends in the kitchen staff. Is still surprised when residents lie about shit. I’m almost shocked that he’s so naïve about it all. Well, it just goes to show: we don’t’ know and, as I’m fond of saying, must never presume. – OK. So, as I write, it’s dark in the room. I’m sitting at the foot of the bed using the hall light because George is still napping. It’s 16h38. After “official” sun-down, I’m thinking I should go for food. I’ve a dollar cash. Might buy a “rollie” or 3 from George. Life on the inside. Earlier I had coffee with creamer and honey to kill an appetite. Hey! Shabbat’s over. I did another one. Forced. But I didn’t shop or travel. – Tomorrow? Out to The Fort. Maybe hair-cut. Definitely the “reception”. Maybe see Dennis. But to be sure, NOT HERE. George says the paper forecasts possible flurries on Tuesday. Winter approaches. – 19h25 I decided to go out, get food, come back, eat FOOD! NOPE! I’M NEVER SUPPOSED TO EAT… EVER! I’d unpacked the back-pack for carrying some “food” back. I’d even put on my new, never-worn, black sneakers. Hey! At 16h the sun was shining. Everything had to be dry by 18h40. Jacket on, ready to go. Got the lift… empty. Out the door. FUCKING BLOODY RAIN! NO umbrella. No poncho. Just me and the bloody-fucking RAIN! I turned right round, back upstairs. Wet shoes. Wet jacket. Wet attitude. NO FUCKING FOOD! AND… TOO LATE FOR DINNER HERE! SO? As usual, I “fast” again, like EVERY STINKING BLOODY DHABBAT! While Jews round the world sit down for a special dinner following havdallah? I’m ready, with headache, to pass out from hunger. A good Jew? Oh, why not just fuck me even harder? Eh?

Sun.16. 94/63 21h31 In bed, signed-in, piss-poor mood here. New morons roaming the hall, all 4 of us are in the room and in silence. Good thing too. Miserable night last. I had trouble falling asleep to begin with. As I began, at long last, to drift off, 16 went into active with the snoring shit! So? It woke Rey who then really kept me awake. It just never fails: I look forward to a particular day and the night before is sleepless. So this morning I slept a bit later than I’d hoped. Got no sleep on the trains of bus (6 to 4 to 2 to Q35) and arrived at Tilden, wanting to nap at 11h30. P. and T. were there. Tables were set for the reception but P. was still going on about how things should be and look. T. had me laughing as he poked fun at P. All said though, the reception as I walked in the door was very good. I mean, I was well-received. I don’t, somehow, expect that any longer. I can’t help but recall that Penelope lied to me, telling me that Geoff and Tommy suggested that I make myself “scarce” this Summer past and Tommy confirmed that that was strictly her wishes and not his of Geoff’s. but, as he (Tommy) pointed out, my dues are paid and I’ve done nothing against the RAA. So, I’m welcome. And so I was. – The gallery reception went along well. I got a bit of food in me and, I’m happy to report, 4 or 5 glasses of wine! YAY! I’ve needed that for a while. As I said, the night Kendall got so bombed: I want to enjoy being drunk and that’s just impossible in the shelter. I didn’t get drunk today, but I did enjoy the wine. And, of course, the attendees were the incestuously usual crowd. Jimmy (Killian), yet again, put himself out in every conversation (with me and over-heard) to make some mention/reference of/to Jews. I’m not sure if I find it curious, humourous or annoying, but I do find it quite typical of that caliber, ilk and type. Too bad. But… – The day rolled into the Writers’ Group and it was quite the delight when a “new voice” (Megan) asked “Isn’t anybody pissed?” after hearing all the sing-song, la-dee-dah prose read. So I gave my readings of “I will take my medication” (which floored people at the ending, Dan in particular. “I wasn’t expecting that!”) and “These days I put pen to paper…” Shit! Shirl reads her darkness openly. Here’s my chance to toss out a few bits of stuff. Ah, the Metaphysical will RING! – So, the meeting was another delight. Unfortunately, after, in the parking lot, Megan was talking with a member of the Group who is already published and I was invited to either beer or tea, but could afford neither and didn’t have the time (the meeting ended at 18h and I needed to get back to the cell!). So, as I walked, in the dark, out of The Fort to the Q35, yet another reason to get my life together, get MONEY and GET OUT of that friggin’ hell-hole shelter became obvious! – The trip back was uneventful and goof. Taking the Q35 cuts a lot of time from the journey. – You know? I’m just writing this in on Wed. 19th at 11h21 (MMLib) and I can’t recall anything back at the shelter. So, it must have been OK. Evenings have been humourous lately. Geo. And Rey are great room-mates. If only we could get rid of 16. That said…

Mon.17. 95/64 (Wed.19: 11h25 MMLib) Up and bolt today! Hurry! Wait! Run! Stop! CashZone first thing this morning. Money! Yay! New MetroCard! Yay! Rockaway! Yay! VNS on RBB. Make their “Open House”. Asked about my hours. Told to talk with my supervisor (I have no idea who tat is).Got info for Geo. (on CHHA offers for free classes). – When I left? The CRAMPS! The intestinal PAIN! I searched for libraries: Peninsula? 13h! Bus to So. Ozone Park. 13h! Bus up to Lefferts. 13h! Cursed and so cursed! And only 11h30! To distract my mind, I dropped into “Dollar Days” on Liberty-off-Lefferts to look for my “haircut” mirrors. Took my time browsing and trying to hold my bowels and just as I was ready to leave, there they were! Perfect mirrors! Not th4e “perfect“ price (99cents) but even at 3& each, it wasn’t 10$. Sold! Bought! A trip worth the while and to think I’d have missed them if the libraries had been open and I didn’t feel as though I was about to shit my toes up. So, by 12h I’d cashed my cheque, gone to Rockaway, found the So. Ozone and Lefferts libraries and gotten the mirrors I’d needed. OK. I still had an hour before I had to be at the client’s. I walked down Lefferts to about 134 or 135, came back up, taking my time and still got to the house early enough to hear J. tell me that they believe I’m the best thing to happen for their father and that when my assignment is done, they’re quite ready to “negotiate” private duty. Of course, there’s no mention of the cash value of this “negotiation”. I expect it’ll be loaded with “perks” and no cash. The saddest part? I’d like to see H. recover some independence but I really don’t feel comfortable in the “family unit”. But, if the money is right? I’ll take the job. I NEED to get back to something “mine”. – Tonight I got back to the shelter, opened my locker, hooked the mirrors on the doors, laid the Wave on the floor, changed into my scrubs and… HAIRCUT! AT LONG LAST! Not my best, but at least the hair is cut! I’m not crazy about the new trimmer but it cuts hair. I’ll settle. (It eats my up inside when I recall all of what I’m now considering “GONE” forever.) Anyway, my hair is now cut. I look neater, cleaner. And I feel closer to human. – And so (since it’s now 20h51) to the night… THE NIGHT OF MORE BLOODY-FUCKING SNORING! It was unbelievable! Almost non-stop! Even the ear-plugs didn’t block the friggin noise! R. said that Reid told him that she would re-assign 16. Yup. Right. Sure. And so, it was yet ANOTHER sleepless night!

Tue.18 96/65 I’d say “I woke this morning” but I really only “napped” last night (this morning… fuck) so, I got out of bed later than hoped and planned. just did a “forward motion” of non-stop: shit, smoke, brush teeth, shower, dress, out. Exhausted. Burning tired. Hungry. Exhausted. Hungry. By about 10h30 I was at the Junction for the Q35. I was actually looking forward to having a couple of slices of the pizza I’d bought, thinking of Tommy and Christian when they smoke in T6 (and P. wanted to throw out!). But, as I neared T6, the parking lot was empty! NOBODY was there today! Of course… I was hungry, food was involved, I’m not supposed to have food. And, it was windy and quite cold. The weather report had said possible flurries. Still, there was sunshine in Tilden so I went directly to the beach. Why? Because I was there and so was the beach… and RAA or not, I was really glad to have the day to myself. No bull-shit (from P. mostly). Just me and thoughts, surf, sand, sea. I walked the beach. – One fisherman. A dead ray. A dead gull. Tide in. Not many shells. I sat for a while by “my dune”, just to sit. Walked up to Battery Kessler and over to 411. Tommy really did clear it out with his machete! Not complete, but more than enough. I’m truly sorry I told anybody about the place and have resolved and vowed: Anything else I find in The Fort, I keep it to myself. Now I understand the secrecy of those who know The Fort. it should be respected and protected. Oh. I did get some photos on the cell of 411. I’d like to do a sketch of it before Tommy has his little groups run amok around it. And so, a slow and peaceful walk came to a close as I walked through the gate to the 22 and headed out to the library at Far Rockaway. – I got another “Journal day” on-line and by 15h, left. Stopped to do some food shopping at Associated. Even though that end of The Peninsula isn’t “home”, I still feel I belong there and I hate leaving! it rips a piece out of my heart each time. – on to the A. The sunset on Jamaica Bay, through breaks in the clouds was actually radiant! What a beautiful travel it is. I just wish that when I got to Broad Channel, I could get on the train back to Rockaway to go HOME! One day, very soon. never soon enough. – Back at the shelter I ATE! 3 sandwiched, 4 PopTarts. There was water at the cooler so I filled my bottles. (The tap water had been beige all day. So, in spite of the Deer park bottled, I was happy to have drinkable water.) The sandwiches tasted so good. I was just so bloody hungry! And to think, the food came in from Far Rock! – oddly, coming into the building was quite easy tonight. No queue! As cold as it was today and tonight, there are no crowds packing in. But Geo. commented that there have been 2 busses transporting to Wards’ Island each night. the shelter system is actually packed. 850 beds in here, alone, and no room for anybody. Yes. Being here is a hard kick, square in the face. THIS is “Reality”… and it’s truly disgusting. – So, I looked forward to a night’s sleep BUT IT DID NOT COME. BRINDOU (16) IS STILL HERE! AND AGAIN, THIS NIGHT WAS DESTROYED BY HIS BLOODY-FUCKING MISERABLY ROTTEN STINKING SHIT SNORING! I DIDN’T DRIFT OFF TO SLEEP EASILY TO BEGIN WITH. SO MANY OF THE REGULARS ROAM THE HALLS, YELLING AND GENERALLY CRATING HAVOC. MORONIC SHIT-FOR-BRAINS. THEY SHOULD KNOW BETTER. BUT AS I FINALLY DO GET TO SLEEP, BRINDOU’S BULL-SHIT OPENS. NO MATTER WHAT I DID, EARPLUGS AND ALL, I COULDN’T ESCAPE THE NOISE! A CURSE! AN ABSOLUTE CURSE! AND NOW, HE’S GOT ANOTHER “FRENCH”-SPEAKING AFRIKAN SHUM WHO COMES BY TO VISIT. I JUST DON’T LIKE IT. I DON’T TRUST HIM, ESPECIALLY SINCE HE’S GOTTEN AWAY NOT ONLY WITH HAVING THAT “HOOK” IN THE DORM BUT THE FACT THAT IT WASN’T REPORTED! AS r. SAYS: THERE’S MORE TO HIM THAN WE KNOW… AND I DON’T LIKE IT. AS IT WENT…

Wed.19 97/66 22h59 Rey, Geo and I were awake through to 1h30 this morning. Brindou snored through out talking. I told R. what I think of Reid (another lying sack of shit). He suggested the 3 of us go complain together. Sounds like a good idea on the surface but me? I don’t believe it will do any good at all. None of them can be trusted or relied upon. Anyway, I’m thinking of other ways to hand this: including a report to the Mayor’s office about weaponry in here going un-reported and ignored. We’ll see. But I will go to my CW and tell her how it’s affecting my sleep and my work. – As it turned out, I over-slept til 8h this morning but managed to get out and to the MMLib by 10h. Got another day and a half “Blogged”, including a comment about today. I’ll just add this on when the time come. Left at 11h45 and got to work on time! H. was having another bad day. No accomplishments. it bothers me. – Left just after 16h. At 17h15 or so, the temperature on #rd Ave. was 3degrees. The cold is upon us. – At the shelter, I just came right on through. NO QUEUE AT ALL! In the dorm, I had 3 sandwiches and did a wash. the day is complete. – Right now, 23h11, 16 & 17 are sleeping. Geo. is out in the night. The temperature in here is 23degrees. There are SPICS out in the “sitting area” waiting for beds and kicking up noise. Fucking trash. They should be put back out on the streets. Actually? They shouldn’t be allowed on the floor. There should be a place to confine them on the 1st floor. There should be an enforced rule prohibiting any noise on the floor after 23h. But, bottom line: if you have no assigned bed, you should be in a “holding room” on the 1st floor. if you can’t behave, you don’t need to be here and should be put out. – But for now, it’s 23h16, no snoring. time for lights out. I’m not expecting a night’s sleep so I’ll nap until the bloody Afrikan bolts R. and I out of sleep AGAIN! – how I HATE it here! – Oh. As I headed for the stairs this morning at approx. 9h30 I heard “Mr. Ksslr!” I turned. Uloma was standing at the office door, smiling and waving to me. I’m sure it wasn’t for any food. – Enough. I’m caught up at last. Nap time (I hope.)

Thu.20 2h32(19degrees) 98/67 No sense even trying for sleep any more. Brindou is snoring. Security and some staff are yelling in the hall. About 10 mins ago some fat arse bastard comes knocking on the door yelling “BEDCHECK”. Not 10 minutes before that, Geo. Comes rolling in all chatty and then gets on the phone. (Today I finally said “Of all the nights, this one! No snoring. This is bullshit. Just bullshit.” Rey told Geo to take the phone out to the hall – he didn’t…) When security wouldn’t shut up in the hall, the bitch complaining because somebody called her “bitch”, I got up and went to the hall to say “I don’t know how we’re expected to hold jobs when we’re not allowed to sleep. Quiet, for a night’s sleep, to go to work. Is that asking for too much?” I got no answer, no response, just dead stares. I feigned going to the loo. And now? Even as I write, the fucking Afrikan is in full snore, the cunts are yelling, in the halls and it’s only about 2h30. So much for a pleasant day tomorrow. AGAIN. THIS IS NIGHT THREE OF NO SLEEP! In a while, if I’m still awake, I’ll take my shower, get dressed, get on a subway to somewhere to sleep. THIS, DEAR FUCK-FOR-SHIT-FOR-BRAINS, IS HOMELESSNESS! And yet? Not much different from nights at Margot’s when, at about this same hour, she started cleaning closets. Imagine that? Imagine that! Anyway, I’m sitting/reclining reverse on the bed, using the light from the hallway to see what I’m writing. The brief wash I’d done earlier is almost all dry. The socks are damp, the t-shirt is already folded. I’ve a towel needs washing. I think I’ll get to that now. No sense even trying for sleep any more. – 3h22 My mistake. Geo. Was the sorer… snorer. Rey phoned him to wake him so he’d turn to his side and stop. Meanwhile, I washed a towel and snot-rag, had a smoke, took a pee. I’m not planning on any sleep any more. It’s a bit too early to shower, although somebody actually is. I can hear the whine of the shower running. Perhaps an over-nighter? Poor bastard. Once came down the hall earlier. Imagine: coming in from the cold, getting a bed at 3h only to have some bitch-butt cunt wake you at 8h to tell you it’s time to got up? Meanwhile, Brindou was awake and Rey just went to the loo. Me? I’m passing time. The P.O. opens at 6h. The 99cent store in Midwood opens at 9h. Library MM at 10h. The library in Queens at 10. Brooklyn Central at 9h. And there’s all that travel (and sleep) In between. And now some fuck is mucking about down the hall, banging shit. But you know? This really is a typical night here. I’d just adjusted to it in the course of time, never journalled it because it seemed mundane. But it truly does depict what every night is the shelter is like. No wonder (any more) that there are those who prefer the streets. No wonder… anymore. – The air in here smells like drunks. Geo. – No wonder… any more. – 13h11 By almost 4h I simply gave in and laid back. Actually fell asleep until 8h21! But that 4 hours wasn’t restful and wasn’t enough. But that doesn’t matter. It was all I could get (in spite of the fact that Geo. Was still sleeping as I left at almost 9h30. SHIT! How the hell does he do it… AND get away with it?) Well. No sense wondering. No wonder… any more. – I’ve made my way to Seaside Library. – 19h34 Back at the Hotel Hell-hole. Eaten. Shat. Waiting. – Yes. I made it to Seaside. The day went: IRT to the Q35 to the post office. Nothing of note there. Then – NO NO NO. Wait. I’m so tired I can’t recall this morning! My first trip of the day was to my 99cent store! 2 pairs of Thinsulate gloves (they didn’t have black but I did get some for work and for every day), a book light (to replace the one lost at the hotel), a 2009 calendar book for work (smaller and lighter weight). There was more that I’d have like to get but… Oh yes. Advil PM. What the fuck? Let’s hope it does help with the sleep situation. At this point, I don’t care what I sleep through any more, just so long as I sleep. I just hoe Brindou’s bloody snoring doesn’t keep me awake and I have to go through the following day half dead. Only way to know is to try. – B36, B3, Q35. Post office. Library by about 13h (13h11 as noted). A very brief wait for a computer. Finished posting a half day and checked a list of shelters (not a good list, unfortunately) and some e-mails. Out to the Q35 again. It was nippy today out “Home”. But the quiet was wonderful. – Brooklyn Central library to post another day’s journaling to the blog and to the train. I’d wanted to do the MMLib but hunger took me. 3 to Atlantic to the D to W4 to the A to 14th to the 6 to 123rd to D’Ag. Walked to the hell-hole where the queue was a mess! I’m not used to waiting any more. – When I got to %w-101 I was alone! I ate! 2 peanut butter and cream cheese, some V8, donuts. Food at last! I don’t know what did it but something got to “move” shortly after I’d eaten. Not “too much.” But enough to change a mood. First time in 3 days. At last. – One thing about this day: I wore my “beach ring” all day and all day I had to battle hard-ons. Fatigue or what? Well. At lest I know that the equipment functions properly. – 20h07 and the “muscle pimp” across the hall is kicking up noise and shit wit h Harry in the hall. Harry looks doped-up. But these abortions know how annoying hall noise is. Yet, they have no respect for anything or anybody. Retards. Truly. Retards. I grow more hateful of ALL people the longer I’m in here. (Of course, then there’s Charlie. 193cm of “Oh. Just once.” But only “just once”.) – I’m waiting my turn in the shower for Battery K. before bed tonight. Tomorrow is Friday. I’m planning on P.O. in the A.M. and P(ay)C(heque) in the P.M. Let’s see how it gets fucked. – Showered. BK. Goodnight nurse.

Fri.21. 99/68 11h35 Lefferts Lib. Just got up from my 30 mins on the PC. Blogged another half day. Checked some e-mails. Now I get to sit by the window, looking out on to Lefferts Blvd. How strange: I’m hanging, in Liz’s old neighbourhood. A curse to her parents. (oh my. Tee-hee.) – I can’t say that the AdvilPM worked last night but I can’t say that it didn’t. I did fall asleep before somebody put the lights out and I suppose the Advil helped that. But at 0h24, Brindou’s bloody snoring woke me! So I stuffed the earplug in my left ear and soon fell back to sleep until about 6h! No BM this morning but hot shower, another BK, casually dressed. Out by 8h and off to the Post Office. (My cheque was there. So too, a statement for my Premier Agency payroll card: Overdrawn. The usual. Morons. I’ll have to get rid of that damned card lest it does me more damage.) Stopped for the paper. Back on the train to here. – I left the shelter at approx. 8h and arrived at RockPark at 9h45! Ridiculous! Unsatisfactory. This is the 21st Century! It should be better. But, no sense wasting in k on the matter. – I’m drowsy this morning but my stomach is food and I’m hungry! Imagine? I’m hungry. I was good about not finishing every edible last night so there’s stuff to eat later. And I’m thinking that this will be my week-end of pride (and defiance) where I’ll be travelling, &c. in kippa. No more wasting a day, sitting in that shelter, wasting away. – This morning, out-side the gate, a young “resident” came to me to ask: “Do you live here?” (motioning to the shelter with his head.) I didn’t even think to say “No”. He was amazed. I’m setting a new bar on the “Jewish reputation”. I should take my act to the road, make money “freeing Jews” and impressing Gentiles. Hah hah. – 12h04 and I could use a nap and lunch. Being at Lefferts already takes away so much stress. It’s not Rockaway but it’s not Manhattan (or The Bronx). And I’m “moments” from work. It’s about a 20 minute walk. Maybe I can stop at the market for something to nosh later. I don’t’ know. Not sure. But I would like a nap. No time. No place. Little reminders of homelessness. – 20h09 Back at the assylum. – I left the library at 12h24, walked casually down Lefferts. Stopped at KeyFood for bread, honey, cheese (for peanut butter/cheese sandwiches for today’s “meal”). Clocked-in at 12h59! H. was having another poor day. I’d really like to talk with Maria (his RN) about his weakness but I fear she’ll think I’m trying to show her up and resent me for it. Rosaria certainly didn’t appreciate anything I did for “her” patient. Although Nancy claimed she appreciated my services to her patients. Still, I want to talk with Maria then, I’ll call her. If not? I won’t. – Left H. approx 16h15 and came directly to the shelter. Brief queue. – Rey was in when I arrived. We talked about the snoring last night and I got some interesting info on Brindou. Seems when the window screen bolt is moved (open or close) B. bolts up out of sleep! There’s a very serious psychosis there… paranoia or what-ever. But it has Rey and I concerned. If he (B) starts so easily AND has a weapon, we 3 (Rey, Geo, and myself) are in a bit of danger here, should he “go off”. As I told Rey: He’d better kill me completely right off. If I can, I’m going to get a picture of him with my cell. I’ll send it to some place (a Photobucket) on the Internet, just in case. Maybe to the blog for this journal. Any way and meanwhile, it’s agreed that if and when he keeps us awake with his snoring, it’s unfair that he should be well-rested whilst the rest of us suffer sleep deprivation. So, we will do what we can to ensure he gets no sleep either. I want to mention it tomorrow when I see Uloma Enyi. I doubt she’ll take any action on the matter… she’s a fellow Afrikan. (Sh’e Nigerian. He’s from Ivory Coast. But I’m sure in these matters, they’ll stick together. It’s shameful but I used to admire Afrikans. Being in this shelter has brought me to despise them. Arrogant. Loud. Unclean. Disrespectful.) But, I’ll give it a go. If one (or more) of “them” kills me? So be it. – That said, the 3rd toilet won’t stop flushing tonight and there’s a sign on the hallway wall indicating that the water will be turned off “Staurday” [sic] from “9-5”. In the meanwhile, we, in this room directly across the hall, will have to listen to it (the flushing) ALL NIGHT! (I’ll be taking more Advil tonight anyway.) But I did a basin wash already, so? – I didn’t cash my cheque today. I saw no need. I’ve got a small cash-stash here and there for cigs for the week-end. I’ve got eats for Saturday (Staurday?) and Sunday. So I can certainly wait. – Right now, at 20h40, it’s sign-in. Kendall was crocked at 18h and headed out for more. Geo. says Lapinsky (his CW) has agreed to “hold” his bed over-night. He (Geo.) is out to get bombed tonight too. These guys trust case-workers. Fools & idiots be they. NOBODY in this place is to be trusted. And that’s not just my own general, innate distrust. It’s the way of this shelter and the system. – 20h43 The Wildcats have come to clean the loo and I’m off to sign-in. – Signed in. Advil taken. Off to (try for) a night’s sleep,

Sat.22 100 HOMELESS/69SHELTER 9h38 Slept through the night with one interruption. 12h50 In the dorm. Why? The day is all but finished. Very cold out. Sunny. But cold. Uloma doesn’t feel well today so my little “appointment” with her took until 10h30. Just screwed the morning and, subsequently, to day. Another Shabbat gone. If I could attend services in the morning it wouldn’t be so annoying. But I can’t even do that! Well, no sense getting worked-up over it. – The water is off and, of course, I could move my bowels right about now. I’ve eaten (peanut butter/cheese) and it got my system going. Oh well. – 16h30 At 13h I gave up and gave in and “napped” until 16h when cramps hit! Luckily, the water was back on by then. A tiny BM that didn’t match the magnitude of my cramps. 4 days worth of food hasn’t come through yet. So now I’m looking forward to a day of serious runs. Typical of how this day has been all along: It started OK. I woke at about 6h30 with the alarm feeling rested and ready to go with the day. I had my coffee, took my shower, dressed at a leisurely pace and was fine, looking forward to getting out of here for the day – may be to The Fort (just to go). Rey and I has arranged Geo’s bed to look as thought somebody was in it and he’d lost it from being out all night. Rey even did the top of the locker up with socks, toiletries and a box from a lock. It looked like somebody had actually taken the bed! When Geo cam in – well, before he came in, a guy from across the hall came by to buy a cig from me. (50cents I accepted the money. In this hole, one takes the cash. I’ve already given away “rollies”. No more. And certainly not cigs. But the guy gave me a “Buy One Get One Free” coupon! Hey! 50cents for the cig and a free pack! OK. The rollies are paid. ) When he came to the door, he whispered. Rey asked why he was whispering and when he pointed at Geo’s bed we had to laugh. Next, Rick came buy to check if Geo. was here. When he too thought there was somebody in the bed, Rey and I laughed at what a great job we’d done. So, when Geo. came in, (he was beyond drunk and just slightly past fucked-up to begin with) he looked at the bed and all he could say is “Lipinsky fucked up.” He was certain there was somebody in his bed. I held my chuckles to myself. I wanted to see how far it would go but Rey lost it and him what we’d done. He was only mildly relieved but then, he was so drunk at that time. I’m wondering how he’ll be when he wakes up (he’s been asleep all day). – Game over and to Uloma who wasn’t feeling well. What should have been a brief encounter was an eye-opener, aggravation and annoyance. She’s on my back because I’m working only 9 hours per week which doesn’t entitle me to housing. Like it’s MY fault! She’s pushing the “Security” job issue like she’s got a personal interest in it. When I told her about Brindou’s snoring keeping me awake, her solution was to MOVE ME! I told her “No. I don’t need the problems of moving to a new room, adjusting to new people and all that. Not now. Just leave it. I’m very sorry I even mentioned it now!” This “move” idea came even after she said that she’d received a complaint from “17” about it! Mindless! And, let’s top it off with: I have a “supervisory review” of my case on Thursday at 10h. Thursday? Thanksgiving Day. 10h? She’s REALLY putting the shaft up my shit hole: Weekly appointments on Saturdays so I can’t go to services. Now, Thanksgiving with Reid? Yeah. It’s just obvious at this point. SHAFT! So, I was in quite the mind-set when I left her office. No mood for the rest of the day. – THEN CAME SOMETHING I JUST NEVER EXPETED TO SEE IN HERE! I came back to the dorm to get a cig. and went across to the loo and as I walk in, my eyes hit, at the last sink, some blonde, dressed 60’s mod, putting on MAKE-UP! And she looked like a GIRL! Guys were coming/going in doing the same thing I did: DEAD STOP in disbelief! Yes. It was a guy. We knew it. But it was quite a shock to see none-the-less! OK. That’s you style and your life and what-ever one wants to call it. But, as far as I’m concerned: You want to be in the shelter and do that, you’re just looking for some very serious trouble. If you get it? Too friggin bad. Not to mention: I’ve given up my own life-style (as always), my religious practices, and much, much more. But this. THIS shit goes? What the fuck is THAT all about? Oddly enough though, Miss Thang just went about bi’ness without skipping a beat and sashayed out of here like is was OK. It was an experience and a lesson in basic humanity and a sign that I’m still very stuck in some earlier days. So be it… I’d rather be quite dead now anyway. – Excitement over and seeing that I wasn’t going anywhere AGAIN today, I passed some time washing the exterior of my locker and settled-in and put hems on the “wash cloths” I’d done by tearing a towel up. The frayed ends kept making threads in the shower which got caught on toes and fingers. So? I sewed them. – Now, least night I understand there was a group of people out front of the building giving out long-johns, scarves, gloves to the homeless. This afternoon at about 12h there was a group giving turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, &c. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY ACKNOWLEDGE AND ACRE! It brings me to think of how true it is that humanity (humanity) skips over the “good” and “kind” in the world only to see the nasty and shit. Meanwhile, I was in here, eating cold sandwiches and PopTarts. Oh well. WTF? As they say. – (17h33 Geo. just woke and put on the light. I’d been writing by my little book-light all the while.) – And so, that brings me to now. My stomach is still cramped. There are signs in the loo “No Smoking In Bathroom”. The water’s on. Geo. is awake. Rey is out. Brindou is out. The day is gone. The only libraries open late are Brooklyn and The Bronx. Too late now. I’m faced with the hell breaking loose as it’s time to go to sleep and yet another night of broken rest. Why not death? Hmm? Why not death? – 20h53 Charlie’s talking (high speed, as usual) about going to church. I don’t get that privilege! I get appointments with a case worker on the day I should be attending religious service. It makes me resentful. But I suppose it’s a part of something to force me find my way out of this horror. I don’t understand it and there’s no answer. Then again, there never is. All I know is: All that fairy-tale bull-shit about “Higher Being” and ancestors looking after us when they’re “gone” is bunk. I am alone now. There’s nothing and no-one to give any help, aid or support. I’m alone. And, on that thought, I try for sleep. AdvilPM taken and a hope for sleep tonight. That’s all there is. No more.

Sun.23 101/70 9h31 Woke at 8h30. Almost 12 hours of mildly interrupted sleep. But even with the snoring, Geo’s coughing, Rey’s flatulence, I managed to go back to sleep right away. All said, I did sleep. – had to block Angel from calling again. From 17h37 to 17h59, 4 calls! Yes, I’d like to talk with him but I just don’t understand the multiple calls, one right after another! Anyway… – It’s been so quiet on the floor this morning. I’ve gone to the loo. Tiny BM. Where is all the “intake”? No “output”. It’s in there, somewhere. At this rate, I’ll be heading for a hospital bed in short order and a disimpact… or surgery and a colostomy. – This morning’s first thought was the calculations for the year 2010. First thought of the day: Death. Peace. When? When? Not soon enough. Just not soon enough. – For now? Waiting for the shower. The MMLib is open 13-17h. Brooklyn, 13-18h. Today I’m going to travel to both, blog the journal, look to tomorrow and more blogging. I want all of this on-line. Why? It’s all I have left to my existence. The rest… 53 years… is gone. I’ll die in a shroud of hate and resentment. So be it. – A delightful start to a day, this. No? – 13h15 MMLib. Reservation at 14h. – After passing the time sketching this morning, I walked up to here so to pass time not standing and waiting. It’s not really that cold out, but I just don’t feel like “standing and waiting”. However, I am feeling some-what dis-sociated from the world, not at all at peace with anything and quite disgusted with everything and every-body. And people aren’t making it any better. Walking slowly, erratically on the sidewalks, 2 got ahead of me as I queued to get in here. Another pushed ahead as I as I queued for the reservation. And it seems the retards have all been given day passes. Either that or the mild cold has frozen their brains (what brains there might be). Yes, I’m in the mood for death… mine. But that would be kindness and justice… neither of which exist in Creation. – And so, on 34th I passed a wheel chair, parked against the front of a building, so loaded with wool blankets that, if a body was/is actually under them, one can’t tell. Wool blankets… those that were distributed free, in front of the shelter last week, in the middle of the night. I didn’t get one. I was already in bed, under the “Summer” blankets I’ve managed to hoard from various linen days. – I suppose it’s all beginning to get to me lately. My computer, clothes, books, all my Internet work, art work, writings, gone, gone, gone, gone. No remourse. No feelings at all from those who shoved me along to where I am today. And, as I think on it: why and how did I get here? Because I’m a fuck-up-idiot. I cared for and about the very ones who turned away. I’ve let Fate and Creation handle things. I’ve followed the bloody “Golden Rule” and everything and every one has trampled me and my existence into nothing. Now I’m an “HA number and case file”, wandering about NYC each and almost every day. I have no past. I have nothing tangible of my past accomplishments. I have no “me”. But I do have a want/wish/hope/dream/desire/prayer: That those who are responsible for this, no matter how remotely, not die, but suffer one year for every minute I suffer and 10-fold. Compassion? I have none. And I’m not trying to find any… in myself or others. Enough has reached more than enough. – (Mon. 24. 10h09 MMLib) By 21j I’d signed-in and was looking forward to a good night of (broken) sleep. But, Kendall stopped by and we all had a few good laughs for a while. There are moments when great laughs can be had, even in this place of deep oppression, depression, despair. I’ve been fortunate in having been placed in a group of (mostly) good guys. – Kendall is talking of going to someone’s home on Thursday. Rey too has plans. Geo. has family or friends in The City or The Bronx. Brindou? He’ll probably find some pathetic Afrikan bigot to take him in. me? Alone. The Beach. What-ever. – So, I took my AdvilPM, tucked me in and waited for sleep.

Mon.24 102/71 10h17 MMLib: Sleep didn’t come until about 5h30 this morning! The brain wouldn’t let the body go. No particular thoughts. Nothing specific. Just no sleep! By 7h21 I was up and off to the shower. Charley was in the next shower this morning. Always making with the conversation. If he only knew… If I could only figure out “why”. Not my “type” but a taller man than I and, in spite of his almost “coke-induced” ramblings, a good man. Well, anyway… Out by about 8h15 to cash my cheque and come here to the library where I’m blogging away (and not much else these days). – As I sit to catch up with this journal, a message from M.Tret. H. has a cold. I shouldn’t come to work today! I’m sitting in my scrubs. It’s not even 10h30. I NEED the money! But I could do the library loop today and blog more. Not to mention, I could get food? Or go to Tilden (and piss off Penelope – if she’s there.). Well, here goes. I’ll call the necessaries and see what the day does. I’m tired anyway… – 12h43 Brooklyn lib. Mary cancelled. Kristin has nothing for me. Rockaway got my prints back but the client they were going to give me is in hospital. Nancy has nothing but told me that Premier is not VNS vendor any longer. So, having the day to myself, I’ve actually blogged-in to the 27 August! (Page 15 of 94 in the “Monogram” note book. Only 79 pages to go. Tee hee.)Now? I’ve got to pee (never gone to the loo here), am hungry, can’t decide between Tilden or Far Rock. But, once I pee, maybe… the Fort? Ah… let’s see where the day shoves this homeless old worth-nothing. – 19h41 at D18. So, I used the loo at Brooklyn Central, walked out the door and down the stairs. In the middle of Grand Army Plaza, I rang Angel. Seems he lost his bed one night and got shipped here, to Bellevue for the night! He’d been working and he lost his bed! This whole system is so counter-productive! A bunch of total worth-shit-for-nothings. But, I get what I want: bed, shit, shower, done. So? So. As we settled it, I’ll ring him this evening (I blocked my number on the cell and his number from mine) and maybe we’ll meet up tomorrow. – Ah. Tomorrow’s. Viv’s birthday. I miss her and hope this Life has given her all the Very Best possible and more. – So I got on the train to The Junction and to the Q35 to The Fort. I had no intention of going to The Fort. I was headed to Far Rockaway library. But I looked in at T6. Empty parking lot. I can’t help but think dear Penelope’s staying away so as not to be there if/when I go. It’s sophomoric of me to think such a thing but she’s certainly capable of such nonsense. When the bus arrived, to my complete delight, Willie was the driver! How truly wonderful and spectacular to see her! THE link to my most joyful days on the Peninsula. But she was exhausted and not her usually good-spirited self. She didn’t exchange smiles or talk so I took a seat quietly until we got to Mott. As I left the bus we got to chat. It had been a difficult day for her but as we talked, the Willie I’d come to know and luv returned and it was well with all again. – To the library where I got a computer immediately and blogged more. By the time I was ready to leave, it was already 16h! An entire day had gone by. So I stopped at Associated for “dinner” and on to the A to return to the Hotel Shit-hole. – 18h, nobody too much on queue. Rey was in the room when I arrived, on the phone. I changed and ATE! hoping for a quick night and a sleepful night. – At about 20h11, rang Angel. He’d been sleeping! How these people sleep is beyond me. Asked me to call back in an hour. So I did. He’s got a meeting tomorrow at 10h. I should call him at 11h. (By 11h I’m well on my way around!) – By 21h15 I’d taken my Advil and was under the covers, hoping for a death-like sleep. – Notes: When I got in this evening, I put a bottle of water up on the cooler. Cut my finger on the cap. Bandage of toilet paper and Elmer’s glue. – Geo. In self-destruct mood. Claims he’s useless. Imagine? Talking about jumping from bridges. Fro some reason, he’s infatuated with the Tappan Zee. Says he’s heard of successful jumps from it. But, he doesn’t know where it is. As I told him tonight, he’s only heard tell of suicides but not attempts that didn’t end up in death. We also discussed the inhalation of salt water and how it burns. How about that? Me, talking somebody out of suicide. Hey! He’s 43 (so is my estranged brother). He’s cute. He’s got childish charm. He really could be out there and most likely, happy. He just needs to give himself a break (and cut back on the beer). And so, in the midst of “therapy”, he fell off to sleep. Hopefully all will be better tomorrow. These holidays are just impossibly difficult for all too many. And in here? In a shelter? Some have family or friends to go to. Others (me?) have no one. Me? I’ve spent a life-time learning to dodge it all until it’s all a lot of shit. I wouldn’t take the holiday spirit from anyone. But I sure as hell can try to help make it all more “real”. And hopefully tolerable for those who could be devastated by it all. My “gift” to humanity. – And so, my AdvilPM taken, I hope for nothing more than a night’s sleep. Amen. (Bullshit!)

Tue.25 103/72 Happy Birthday Dearest, Sweet Viv! Where-ever you are, I hope, with all the heart that I have left, that you’re content, at peace. I miss you, and have missed you all these years. – And so, the day: It’s 21h14. Advil taken. May this be a night like last night… sleep all the way through. – This morning brought rain and with it, I slept until 8h. A brief shower and off to catch the M15 to 42nd, the M42 to Madison and an immediate 10h15 computer. After blogging, I’d gone to the 5th floor to journal and the phone rand. Kristin. A 2 hour client, 4 days, B25th. Well. It’s 8 hours more than I have, so I took it. And I work 2 hours on Thursday, Thanksgiving, at time and half. Make up for the 3 hours lost on Monday. It conflicts with my appointment with Reid on Thurs. morning but, I need the money and I need to take cases for the agency. It’s going to be tough: 10-12h in Far Rock and 13-16 in So. Ozone. Btu hopefully it will lead to something better, quickly. Right now, the job is top priority and to hell with all else. – From the Mid-Manhattan, to the 7. Times Square and the train to Grand Army and Brooklyn Central. And rain. Not a heavy rain, thankfully. Another immediate computer. Another page of the journal blogged. When I left, the rain was letting up. I timed a trip: To the Franklin Shuttle and Rock Blvd. Just about an hour. If I go to Bklyn Central before going to So. Ozone, the trip would be about 1,5 hours. Good to know. But for today, I stayed on the train to Far Rock. – B25 is by Bayswater. Private houses. Hopefully my 2 hours each morning will be light work, in a good environment. – Got my hour at Far Rock library. Printed some prose pieces. I think there’s a reading on 7 Dec. at T6. Anyway, as I got to Far Rock, the ocean waves were beautiful, the sky was almost clear, sunshine. Sunshine in rockaway. It was good to be “Home”. After all, Rockaway is “Home”… where I should be… where I want to be… and, at the end of these days, a difficult place to leave. – At about 16h30 it was back on the A, back to The City, back to the Hotel Shit-hole. – Got off at 23rd street. DuaneReade for cigarettes. The guy down the hall gave me a coupon. B1G1. 2 packs! A stroll past 330. it’s still unsettling, passing that building. No Zuri. (No Viv. What happened in my life? What’s happened TO my life?) A stop at D’Ag’s for yoghurt and sweets and… Hell. – Coming in, the “junkie Puerto Rican” from the 2nd floor was behind me, doped-up and throwing fits, slapping the walls and yelling. How I would have enjoyed twisting his head and breaking his neck! Not just because of this but for the nights he kept me awake when I was in A108! But? But. He’s just not worth the results. I’d be blamed. So, through the door, the x-ray, the metal detector and up to the room to eat. – By 20h45 I’d signed-in. By 21h15, AdvilPM. By 21h45 the hope for sleep. And early morning tomorrow.

Wed. 26 104/73 6h47 NOT ONE BLOODY FUCKING MOMENT OF SLEEP ALL BLOODY FUCKING NIGHT! I’VE BEEN OUT OF BED FROM SINCE 4h28! THAT BLOODY-FUCKING YUBANGY SNORING ALL NIGHT! Rey slammed a locker at 4h15. There was no sense even trying for sleep any more. So I gave up trying. Hung out in the hall until now… It’s going to be an interesting day… – 10h20 Far Rock library. “Interesting” day? More like generally screwed! I was on the 6 at 8h11. Arrived at B25 at 9h35. No answer at the door. Kristin confirmed the client has been admitted to hospital! No client! No money! No shit! I’m so bloody exhausted. Mary T. isn’t sure if I should work today. She’s going to call me at some point this morning. And I’m low on phone time. I’ve got 23$ to use and 10$ I’d like to save. This morning, in the hall, I “sold” 2 of my cigarettes for 60cents. Smoked THREE before I left! (Chit! I was awake and because of Brindou, there was no going to sleep at all.) You know? I’m actually getting to be quite the racist with the “preferential treatment” I’m witnessing in the shelter. I mean: A weapon was found and confiscated in Brindou’s possession! It was never documented and no punishment is given. The “security” (laugh!) staff, the social/case staff, “Operations” staff: Black and Afrikan. An obvious bias is there! – 18h03 On the shuttle at Rock Park. Me alone, in the car with my Waldbaums bag of yoghurt and cream cheese and V8 for tonight’s “meal”. And 2 types of Buddig turkey for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving meal. (Sandwiches on Tilden beach.) And so the day draws to a close. Here I am. Miserably and truly heart-sick about leaving Rockaway… Here we go…
Back at the Hell-hole by almost 20h. – I sat on the train and watched my Home disappear. At BC, I stood at the southern end of the platform and just stared at the “sky-line” of Rockaway, in the darkness. I looked at the trestle that spans the bay and came to hate it because it leads away from, and loved it because it leads back to the place I miss, the place I call “Home”. Some Black guy came up, excused himself. He needed to pee… and did so, off the end of the platform. I couldn’t dislike any of it. Facilities for basic needs aren’t provided. He began talking (and wouldn’t listen to me because he had head-phones on) and wouldn’t shut up! The next thing I know, he’s trying to sell me “God”. Pathetic. The train came. I boarded. I read the paper. I was exhausted. – Waiting for the bus at 14th & 1st: Thoughts: Zuri? Why did you leave? Why am I back here in this neighbourhood where I once lived? Why here, where there are memories? The Eye & Ear Infirmary! Margot! The cow. haKalbah! Memories. I have being in The City! I hate the traffic, the noise, the people, the buildings. Hate it all! I’m so bloody bitter now. I don’t’ harbour “hate”. “Bitterness” is all in and around me. It’s no longer transient moments. It’s full-time bitterness. It’s ALL bitterness. The bus came. – Entry: 5 at “security” was stoned. The monkeys asked to see my socks! (yeah well.) In the room, everybody was “in” I was starved! 2 rolls, a bit of hone, half block of cream cheese each. I ate. – Sign-in. As I stood waiting, “the old guy” from 20 came out to the hall, stopped, hand to chest, laboured breathing. He stopped to sit on a trash can. Next thing, a guy is asking him if he’s OK. The old guy asks for help to his room. He’s got me and the other guy. Before long, everybody on the floor knows he’s bad and we’re keeping watch. Meanwhile, Kendall’s having his own night of bliss and, like about a week ago, is making plans for more (drinking). Shoes, phone, cash “removed”,. He’s “escorted” to his bed and another “watch” commences. For all it’s worth, there’s a remarkable camaraderie in this place. It’s a shame that the world can’t function like this. What a wonderful place we’d have. We “residents” know almost nothing about each-other, and it doesn’t matter. We’re “here”, in it together. Honour amongst out-casts. – My Advil is taken.

THU 27. 105/74 “Thanks (for nothing) giving”. The Holidays “begin. BANG! 15h D18. Who the fuck really cares? Really ! – Her I sit, dressed. Over-cast out-side. The plans to go home, Gaston, Tilden, dashed. Done. Beard trimmed. Shaved. Here I sit. It’s been “a day”. It was a night of deep sleep. From (I think) 23h to 9h. I hear I slept thought the 2h bed-check. Good for sleep. Bad for not being aware. Aware is necessary at all times in here, especially lately when there are “over-nighters” coming and going. But, I slept! I’ll accept that for it’s own merit. – The one we know as “Muscle Guy” knocked on 20’s door today to check on him. A few of us stayed here through the day. Some went to dinner at the Bowery Mission. Some partook of the “Holiday Meals” here. Some have gone to friend or family. I don’t understand: Friends and family… who let these guys stay in a shelter? And yet, these guys keep their connections with these people. I don’t’ understand. Invite them to a holiday dinner and send them on to a shelter. There’s a lot that’s wrong there. But, who am ? Nobody. – This morning, I showered and such and certainly didn’t rush to my 10h appointments with Uloma. Signed here list at about 10h20 or so, sat, waited. At about 10h40 she called my name… “Kessluh!” “I have good news for you. Your case worker has returned. You sign on her list over here.” As she blithered, Simmons called me into the office. I was sweet. I was charming. I did the ego-stroke. We begin almost from the beginning… again. But, my weekly appointments are Tuesdays now. I can go to services if I so choose! Even to Rockaway… if I so choose. Let’s see if I so choose. I’m just wondering what sort of social worker this Simmons is. No matter. I don’t’ trust her either way. – 16h31 I’ve had my turkey sandwiches. I’m having a peanut butter and honey sandwich. Geo. Just left. Rey’s been gone. Brindou left early this morning. Kendall will be leaving soon. All said, the entire floor is dead silent. Well. Here am, as always, as usual, alone. Imagine? Thanksgiving… alone in a shelter for homeless men. Alone, in the shelter, on Thanksgiving, eating peanut butter and honey on a roll. Thankful? Me? Oh yeah. Very. Uh huh. Right. OK – I’ve washed some socks and my under-shorts. I’m still dressed in shirt and jeans (but bare-foot). It’s becoming evening already. Too late to head anywhere. With trains running the Sunday schedule, I couldn’t make Rockaway in under 2 hours. As AI pointed out to Geo: 2 hours there, 2 hours back with no stop in between? Round-trip, I’d be back at 20h30, just in time to sign for the bed. Why bother? What I think I WILL do is nap. Sleep is something I haven’t gotten much (or enough) of lately. Sleep whilst the place is calm or forever lost your peace. – Somehow I don’t’ really want to sleep. But I don’t’ want to stay awake either. This is the closes I’ve been to my own life-style in months: quiet, alone, inside, on a holiday. – What is a “holiday” anyway? A lot of nothing, really. An excuse to do nothing. And so? That’s what I’m doing. I think I’ll wash my jeans… – 21h24 And so I did. And they’re on the locker. Did 2 pairs of socks and my under-shorts. Accomplishments for the day. – Well, signed-in, took my Advils early. Sat up talking with Rey until 23h55! It was a very quiet day. It was a very good day. Gave me down-time. No sense being concerned about tomorrow. It will take care of itself when it gets here.

FRI 28 106/75 11h37 FRLibrary. Up with the alarm. I don’t’ know exactly how, but Brindou started his snoring shortly after the lights went out. My stomach knotted. My anger rose. The stress level hit the roof… and I drifted off. 6 hours of sleep. But, so far, it was enough. I’m functioning. Talked with Rich, Rey and Kendall this morning. What a crew! What a great beginning to a day. Good people. – Hit the rails by 8h. Post office by 9h43. Cheque for what is now, a “full week”. Got “The Wave” and the bus at 118th. It’s a glorious, slightly over-cast day in Rockaway. A bit of a chill in the air but just the kind to make me heart-sick at the prospect of leaving. – On the bus, a few stops later, “How the hell are you?” Debra! A wonderful addition to the “Home-Coming”. We sat on the bus, talking about agencies, hours, rates, housing, Section 8 all the way to Mott. She’s a charm, and such a part of what I know as “Home”. – And so, we parted and I got my time in and blogged the second day of September. What a trip down the old memories, back to where this Hell began. It’s actually getting difficult to enter because it really was the beginning of the end. Makes me wonder who will ever get to see it… and if anybody will ever get to see it. Well, if nothing else comes of it, at least there’s a record. My past journals are gone. This one? I’ll protect it. – So, by noon I was on the train to Rock Blvd. The ocean was beautiful! I didn’t want to leave and Fate stepped in to help: the bridge was open! We sat for about 10 minutes at… Gaston! And I certainly didn’t mind that at all. – Made it to work and clocked-in at 13h exactly! H. was in good spirits. M. said it was the best he’d been in days and said that he’d been asking for me. How charming. I got some good work in with him today and told M. and J. that I believe he really does want to walk again but he just can’t. I’m thinking Parkinson’s or something. They’re talking extending my time. Not increasing hours though (so I’ll be forcing more from PIC or going with Rock. Home Svces.). When I left this evening, I felt good about what got accomplished. But… I’d eaten half a Cadbury bar before and too many cookies during. My sugar was WAY off on the train to The City! I wanted to sleep. I actually couldn’t get off the train at Broadway Junction and even at 14th St. it was a great effort! But I managed to get to the L to 1st Ave and on the 15 bus. Mu original plan was to cash my cheque tonight but… nope. Came to the Hotel Hellhole. – NOBODY at the entrance and the elevator all alone! – Almost “normalcy”! (But nothing to eat for “meal”. Probably OK since I can’t move my bowels for about, oh, a month now?) – Managed to wash 2 T-shirts. The Dor Chadash won’t come back to white any more! My clothes are being ruined! Well, then so is my life. But there are other things to note (at 22h14): The old guy in 20 is looking quite a bit worse now. He really shouldn’t be in this shit-hole. He needs proper medical attention. He’s bone and skin and his breathing is heavily laboured. It’s a perfect scenario of in-humanity and apathy. But the guy down the hall actually brought him his dinner. We do tend to take care of each-other. Shit! If WE don’t , no one else will. For all the evil this place represents, there’s some truly wonderful goodness and kindness in there too. To wit, I’ve got Geo’s jackets, shoes and back pack in my locker. He was already bombed when I got in this evening. He’s pulling his nights out way too thin lately so we (we?) decided to try to keep him in tonight and that was the only way to do it. It’s working well. It’s 23h31 and he’s out cold in his bed. How we’ll do it on the week-end is another story. But he’s in, safe, asleep for tonight. What’ best is, he doesn’t know who took his things or where they are and everybody’s taken the blame: Me, Rey, Rich, Kendall… the crew. Ah… I’m feeling like a “parent’. But, why not? – On my way up here this evening, the lift passed the 5th floor and stopped on 7. When I got off, Peace Ochiaga was in the sign-in office so I stopped to say hello. She appeared glad to see me. We spoke very kindly and briefly. (More ego-stroking. They’ll remember me when I’m gone… for nice reasons.) – 22h38 rich and Rey are doing push-ups in the hall. Bed-check’s been done. I have no sleep aids for tonight. Am thinking of maybe trying for services tomorrow if my 2,99$ black pants pass. Either Beth El or 23rd. We’ll see how/IF I get any sleep tonight. (As I write, Brindou is already starting the snoring bullshit so it may be a sleepless night. I need to find out why this bloody Afrikan shit is here! And I will. ) Rey’s coming back. My book-light is going dim… so are my eyes. Time to try for a nap until…

Sat. 29 107/76 15h33 Well, another Saturday of “observance”… FORCED! The bloody snoring began around midnight. At 0h55 Rey, Geo. and I were still very much awake. Geo reading the paper by the light of the hallway. Rey and I talking roads, towns, &c. in the Hudson Valley. We were awake. Everybody needed to be awake! As it ended… this morning I woke at almost 10h30! The day was screwed. Lost. (15h57 and I’m still in my blue scrubs. Haven’t showered. Didn’t brush my teeth. Ate some peanut butter and honey. The day. Shot! – At about 6h31 I woke, briefly (because my alarm woke Rey who woke me). Geo stepped out for a quick smoke and I returned his clothes. As of even now, he’s not sure who pulled “The Kendall” on him, though he has his suspicions and I admit to nothing. But, as much as it actually hurt me to keep him in last night, I know it was for the best. Even Kendall told him: “They do it because the love us.” True. – Another one for the book: Rich had to see Uloma this morning. He gets to her and she tells him “I am no longer seeing people on Saturday I have 15 new cases so I will have to see you another day.” Rich says “OK. What day?” “What are you doing now?” “Nothing. I’ll sit and read the paper.” And so he does. 10 mins later, Uloma comes out. “Richard? Why are you still here?” I told you I couldn’t’ see you today.” True. But she never told him what day she could see him. I note this because THIS is one perfect example of what the entire system is. The absolute distillation of complete and pure stupidity. Is it any wonder that this City is so bad off? Now, what I’d like to know is” Who’s letting these morons get these jobs AND who’s letting in the home-land Afrikan failures? We have a major problemme… and this one ain’t “US”. Well, Rich has been here long enough… he’s riding along with it. – And so the day, what was left of it, went along. Quiet, peaceful, calm for truly the most of it. Yes, there were brief moments of some little out-bursts (most from the Latino down the hall who talks, argues, and fights with himself. But aside from that? Just quiet. – This evening everything changed for a while. The place came alive again. The sun went down, everybody either returned or woke up. Saturday & Sunday are the only 2 days we can catch-up on sleep. They’re the only 2 days we don’t have to hear: “Goodmorning! Time to wake up. You have to be out of here by 9!”
And so, we sleep. At sun-down, we gather in the hall. We talk, mostly about the misery of our surroundings, or environment, the abuses we’ve taken… in silence… from the refugees who are our “captors”… those who bark at us like mad dogs, perform their inquisitions, probe (needlessly) into our personal lives, tell us we must get out of here and “back into society, meanwhile knowing that we are the only thing keeping a rood over their heads and food on their tables. But there’s also talk of troubles with each-other (snoring, yelling, absent hygiene, those who pee on toilet seats or shit on the floors). Tonight there was talk about Harry: taken out by ambulance, admitted to Bellevue. There was talk about the ageless old man in 20, how much longer he’ll survive here, why he isn’t being cared-for in a proper facility with medical, how completely fucked-up is our system and our world when a man can be so neglected and abused an so obviously in need of so much more than this place gives. But, all the while, we, who have so little to offer, give all we can, when and where we can. And we laugh. We laugh about and at our position, our situation and the bull-shit. We laugh at and about our tribulations. We laugh because if we don’t laugh, we’d murder… justifiably. We laugh… Then, the day comes to a close. Some little idiot comes down the hall screaming “Bed-check!” Accompanied by one of our finest “security” guards. Two noses probe into dorms where guys are trying for sleep, getting ready for sleep or chatting with room-mates. In any case, “Bed-check!” is designed to make certain we each know that THEY can, will and DO disturb us as much and often as makes them happy. – Geo is out for another night. A shame. Good kid gone bad… going terribly worse. Tonight? We let him go. – Rey and I hope for uninterrupted sleep but we both know… that’s not going to be. Brindou will make certain we suffer through the night. We’ve registred our complaints. Now we can be certain: He’s here to ensure that we don’t’ ever get enough sleep to work successfully to get out. He’s just another bloody-fucking Afrikan, planted here, by “them”, his fellow refugees, to ensure misery. Unfortunately, he is successful.

SUN. 30 108/77 19h25 At about 0h28, indeed the infliction of misery began./ Snoring. But, for some reason, I managed to sleep through it after a brief period of contemplating the demise of that filthy, foul smelling, mal-odourous, ill-mannered, “I KEEL YOO!” Trrroo Ahfreekahn” piece of shit. – 2h18 and Geo returns. I only very briefly note that and again, return to sleep. – 6h30. Awake for the day. Awake to the day… to the RAINY day. Awake to another day of botched plans: I’d considered a trip to the Bronx Central library (Muhammed, the self-professed Muslim is walking in the hall, shuffling his slippered feet, be-decked in “silk” pajamas… shorts, bottoms, mock-belching. A perfect portrayal of what it is to be “Muslim”.) to log as much as possible in 45 minutes. Then head to Brooklyn
Central for 30 mins. and out to Tilden for the rest of the day. What I got was: Rain. The Woodlawn train ran local all the way so I decided to take it to Kingsbridge, where I could get the Bx9 to the library. Turned out to be an excellent decision. But when the train came up at 161st, it was revoltingly disgusting! There are TWO COMPLETE Yankee Stadiums (stadiae?) and NO PARK! The new stadium is packed tightly into what used to be quite beautiful open space with beautiful trees. As we continued toward Woodlawn, the scenery worsened. Graffiti. Tags. I was disgusted and ashamed to be associated with the place. The “element” has certainly succeeded in destroying the place… from the nepotistic Rican government to the Afro-what’s-its. Who let them in in the first place? Human waste. That’s all they are. The buildings, stations, streets, just everything is a trash dump. I’m thankful to be old, getting older, closer to death and out of here. – At Kingsbridge, a pack of cigs at Duane Reade and out just in time to get the bus. Not one seat on the tandem was clean! Every one had that black glob on it! 9h on a Sunday morning, in the rain, and this! So I stood to the library where it got even more “Rainy Sundayish”. – Got computer 4 on the 3rd floor, immediately and happily, got a couple pages logged in the 45 minutes and TWO extensions. As I was typing for the 3rd extension, the PC crashed. After some ado, an appointment on nr.6 on the 4th floor. Up there, nr 6 had crashed previously. I re-booted. It took longer than 5 minutes. I lost my appointment. More “ado” at the desk. I got nr.10. Much more logged but by now it was just afternoon… and still raining. What to do? Bx9 to Kingsbridge. Shopping (food) at Associated/Morton Williams. 26$ later, back on the train to 14th St., to the L to 1st Ave to the M15 to arrive back at the Hotel Bellaire (choke!) by about 14h and some. – I was THE ONLY one coming in! – In the dorm? Sleeping Geo, Nquoan busy washing clothes (in the sinks). I got to cleaning my locker, making my sandwiches (cream cheese, peanut butter and honey) and eating. By 15h I was napping. A rainy day. I’m exhausted because Nquoan snores all bloody night. I napped. – Woke just past 18h! No light. Needed sleep. A nibble. A nosh. Not much else. – Kendall came to tell about Harry. Harry’s still complaining about the hospital but wanted K. to help him sign-out AMA. Rey and I talked him out of it. (They moved H. to another room and he’s on 1-to-1. Psych. It would seem dear H. is out of the shelter system as he wanted, hut not to where he wanted. Alas.) – This evening? Kendall comes into the room with the Harry Updates and, as usual, he and Rey get to talking about “pussy”. I’ve yet to encounter anybody so totally preoccupied with sex as these two. Their talk, language, thoughts, ideas, ideals are base and disrespectful. But the way the y enjoy their talk, the laughing and such makes the experience more like being part of high-school kids’ bantering. It’s childish. And these are “men” in the 50’s! Well. Better they should go about it this way. There are others who are simply evil and threatening… Nquoan Brindou as a perfect example. – I got into conversation with a guy from next door on THAT subject. It seems that Brindou is enjoying some sort of “Political Asylum” in the shelter. Capable of murder and all that would happen is he’d be transferred to another shelter! We’ve begun to doubt that the name he’s using is his at all! The way I see it, it’s time to figure a way for him to be “out”! Gone! Even the one next door told me: When he complained that Brindou threatened him (with murder), the shelter moved HIM and NOT Brindou. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that ALL these Afrikan rejects are together somehow: from Soc. Svces., through “security” on down. The advice? To leave him alone, wait until he attacks and then for for self-defence. Me? I’ve got other options. Especially since that malodourous bastard brought that hook into the room and got away with it! WE shall see. – Otherwise, we, the rest, laughed on into the night and by about 23h15… it was over, done, closed.
CONTINUE…