Christmas....2016

~ Christmas 2016~

Christmas no longer feels like Christmas. This year, especially, 

the feel of Christmas is missing. I don’t know whether it has something 

to do with this being my 17^th one Spent alone on the streets, or the air
, 
that is usually festive and filled with good cheer and the air filled 

with the vibrancy of it all…. For some reason, the air doesn't

 have that feel to it at all this year. If anything, it has become 

quieter all around. I have to be reminded, sometimes by myself, 

sometimes by others, that it is Christmas. To me, it is nothing 

more than another day on the streets, a day that is more challenging 

to find some place to clean up, since it is a Holiday, and every place is closed. 

It is really hard to get excited about Christmas, Holidays, or any day, 

for that matter when you have no one to share them with. 

Another Christmas where I will be in the park surrounded by a 

good stack of library books for company….. 

 and my furry and feathered friends.

I spent the first several years of the Holidays that I was 

on the streets, volunteering at various organizations, shelters, 

soup kitchens and so forth…. But it just drained my energy. 

 I have found more and more that I am not energized around 

people, especially when it is around large crowds, but just the opposite. 

Being torn down by others because of the way I move... 

It brings me down. I so wish that those who choose to show 

me all their ugliness could experience the excruciating pain 

that I live with every moment of my life. Know what it feels like 

to feel like your knees are being hack-sawed with every step, 

along with the feeling of an axe being swung through your 

legs at varying angles, to feel the constant jerking and spasms, 

all day and all through the night from your hips to the bottoms of your feet;

To experience the constant heavy fluid build-up and swelling 

that fills my legs from mid-thigh down to my toes; 

To actually feel the effects from others’ actions against you, 

when you are on the receiving end of verbal abuse and violent behaviors.

So after several years of giving my time and love, I no longer 

volunteer during the Holidays. Instead, books and animals

 fill my heart and soul during the Holidays, in a way that 

people never have. Being on the streets for so long….. 

you literally become trapped and find the more you try to escape, 

the deeper you are pulled in. Kind of like those mirror 

mazes at theme parks, everywhere you turn, you find yourself 

going in endless circles, and coming back to where you started.

The toll being homeless takes on you; physically, mentally, spiritually…. 

Should be what the most violent offenders’ sentences should be. 

 Instead, we are the ones to suffer from their actions, 

while they receive free meals, a bed, a roof, tv….

And they pay nothing.

When you are forced to live the merest existence on the streets, 

you find it a real challenge to get excited about

 anything, really. Much less when the Holidays roll around. 

It becomes a very depressing time of year, and you get sucked 

down into depths you could never have imagined.

Memories fade into the well where dreams are stored….

 No longer seem real. The feelings are no longer there. Just images. 

 You wonder if it really happened or if it is just images of your mind.

 Is your mind playing tricks on you, or it is just a cruel joke 

being played by the mind? It’s like my life has been swallowed 

whole within a Black Hole. Just being on the streets is challenging enough,

without adding bad weather to the mix….then to have to contend with 

Mother Nature’s fury, Her moods changing constantly…. 

When you live on the streets, you really come to dread bad weather;

 especially the heavy rains and hard winds. But living and barely

 existing on the streets during bad weather, you and your bags 

stay wet long after the rains have subsided.

This is by far The Worst Christmas I have ever experienced.

 Especially in physical terms. The physical pain I am forced to 

endure is so far off the charts, it is interfering with everything I do, 

including breathing. The list is too long to go into, but the worst is the

 extreme burning that is fully consuming and continually tearing me

 up and ripping me apart every moment, knows no ends. The searing pain 

that goes from the back of my throat, down my chest and through 

my stomach has been going on for several years now.



 Nothing has given even the slightest bit of relief. Seems another life 

sentence has been tacked on to my life, adding more pain to endure. 

 Because of the rest just wasn't enough…

I have never experienced a pain-free day in my life. 

 There have been a few moments along the way where it was 

not as intense, not as draining, not as life destroying…. 

But it has never gone away completely. Looking forward to 

putting this horrendous year behind me. I cannot say I am

 looking forward to another year…. But looking forward to it not being

 as bad as this one has been. I have experienced a LOT 

having to live on the streets, and I truly wish I had a memory 

that could just erase it all. Instead, I have a memory 

that remembers it all, only all too well.

Friends and family…..what does that truly mean when 

you live on the streets? Both become non-existent in your life. 

 And nowhere is this more clearly presented than when you are 

forced to exist on the streets. Friends and Family, nothing but 

cruel words spoken to those having to live on the streets. 

 If they were present in your life, you would not be on the streets.

 You would never have had to spent a single night outside, 

without protection, without the safety of a home…. 

Much less, nearly 2 solid decades.

Christmas is just another day of endurance on the streets.

Drifting...

~ Drifting~

Drifting…. That is what you find yourself doing when you are forced

to live every moment on the streets…. Drifting from one place to another,

with no specific direction in mind, since any direction takes you to the same place,

just a different location. The experience remains intact, no matter where you drift to.

When you are not welcome wherever you are….. makes no difference

where you go. And when you live on the streets….. drifting becomes

second nature that just falls into place,

as you have an abundance of experience perfecting the art.

Drifting as life passes you by all around. Like driftwood in a stream or river,

life on the streets takes you in all directions, and usually not of your choosing.

Some cities even take the measures to physically remove the homeless from their cities by

putting us on the bus or Bart (Bay Area Rapid Transit)

to remove us out of the way, when we were doing nothing but minding our

own business, but the cities claiming our presence is

“illegal” and they have “City Ordinances” that prohibit people from

being present when they do not have a physical residence, regardless of where you happen to be….

The park, waiting for a bus or just sitting some place to rest your tired feet, our

presence is unwelcome just for being present and just being.

Drifting becomes even more apparent when you go looking

for the help and assistance that is “supposed” to be there for those on the streets.

But what you find instead of the help when you do not fit the role of the

commercialized version of the homeless in looks, actions, and

behaviour… that “help” bounces you endlessly around, claiming

they don’t have the resources. So you get tossed from one agency

to another, from one community center to churches, to non-profits,

and back. Due to the glaring fact that I am CLEAN, and have never even tried

those life destroying habits that so many do, much less been consumed by them, and

I am not an illegal alien…. That so-called help is why I still find myself without a home.

H E L P….. what a cruel word that imposes on your life when you live on the streets.

Even more so when you are denied and refused because of habits you never

started, and the length of time outside widens

that chasm when the ones that are supposed to be there to help, tell you

repeatedly that your circumstance does not “qualify” as an emergency, and

therefore you do not qualify for any assistance. Putting you

literally between a rock and a hard place, in the truest sense.

Denied and refused the help you need to

move forward, while being denied your existence that has never

qualified for the assistance needed. So drifting becomes a very real

part of your life...as life has left you no choice to do otherwise.

With life on the streets, more bad seems to overshadow the good.

But there is some good you find along the way.

Watching the sunrises, morning after morning…..

year after endless year... when it isn’t raining, foggy or overcast.

Being surrounded by Nature and Her beauty and incredible loving furry and

feathered friends, who have opened their world to me, time and again.

In fact, Nature’s magnificent creatures who share my days and nights,

are the only ones who have ever accepted me as me.

That in and of itself is the greatest gift.

Animals…. Mother Nature’s perfect companion.

Turning Bad Luck into a Fine Art....

Bad Luck......


......as the saying goes, "If it weren't for Bad Luck, there would be no Luck at all".  And that truly sums up my life right there.   I have found that turning Bad Luck into a Fine Art Form to be my true calling in life.  The only thing that has ever been consistent in my life has been Bad Luck, in one form or another.   I have never once felt or experienced that love affair with Life that most do.  It has never been in my life.  Always a part from life, but not a part of life.   Perhaps because I was forced down the wrong path since birth, my birth.   Not given a choice as to where I was heading....  I had plans for life.  A lot of plans, none of which have ever come about, since LIFE got in the way of living.

One thing I always wanted to do when I was little, was to help people.  I still do.  And I wanted to be a Detective.  But due to health issues, that dream was denied.  So many other dreams have been denied since then.  But I never stopped dreaming.  My dreams haven't changed, even though life itself has continually changed, and not always for the better.  

My dreams of having a home, a real H O M E, where I could finally fill my own kitchen with good, healthy food where I could make, prepare and store food; sleep in my own bed where I could finally get the rest and sleep that my body has been readily denied for nearly 2 decades because of a forced circumstance not of my choosing; to finally have my own bathroom where I could do my private business in private instead of always in front of a large audience at every moment..... dreams.  Though, on the rare times that I actually "dream" while in a restless sleep through the night, I can no longer bring forth a dream of having a real home.  But rather, they just become more of street life, in every regard.  The clean-ups in the public restrooms, the constant disturbances through the night from unwelcome 2-legged animals of the human variety, not to mention the cops circling around me.  My waking life and sleeping life are now one in the same..... no distinction.  Street life has literally taken over my life....become every fiber of my being, every breath I take, and infused to the deepest core of my being.   

I can no longer even imagine what a home feels like..... what is it like to be inside, safe and warm and comfortable all night, every night?  What does it feel like knowing when you will eat, what you will eat and how?   What is it like to use a restroom in the privacy of your own home???   I simply cannot fathom what that world is like.  It hasn't been a part of my life for so long, they become just words with no meaning.

When did merely existing along the seams of humanity become what life is all about?  

Thanksgiving 2016

Thanksgiving on the Streets....

Another Fall Day on the streets. 

Thanksgiving Day once more on the streets...
making this my 17th one without a home....and still outside.

When you live on the streets without the comforts a home affords,

 not to mention the warmth and safety; it becomes 

just another day, only more challenging with it being 

a Holiday, and finding places to clean up or use the restroom,

 turn into adventures unto themselves.  

It's a mixed blessing to still be alive and breathing on this day.  

Facing another day on the streets is never an easy task,

 and the longer I am forced to be out here, merely existing

 along the periphery of life, the more it puts a heaviness

 on my heart, the weight of which brings you

 to depths that have no end.

How does one live a life filled with Joy, Love, Excitement, 

and Happiness, when 

these things have never existed to be begin with in their life?

How do you live a life of meaning, have your life filled with purpose,

 when your very existence is barely tolerated, but not allowed

 to be present wherever you are?

A million questions fill my thoughts, my heart....

And still no answers.

I have seen and experienced the worst of life, 

the worst of humanity, as they have repeatedly shown me 

the underside of any good....

There isn't any rude comment, ignorant remark,

 horrible action that I have not been 

subjected to a million times over. 

 I know what true Hell is. 

 I have lived it since birth.

Lived in it, Lived through it, 

and continually immersed within it.

Whatever happened to the "Golden Rule".... Do Unto Others, 

As You Would Have Others Do Unto You?  I have never 

treated others in the way they have been toward me, yet they 

feel it necessary to be as mean and cruel as possible to me for just being present. 

 I am not hurting anyone, not doing anything wrong, or illegal.  Just minding my

 own business, and then they are in my business; calling me names, giving me

 nasty, disgusted looks, calling the cops on me....

 just for being present.

Being laughed at, cruelly mocked, made fun of, ridiculed, and criticized for

 moving in a way they find unacceptable and insist cannot be real.  They are 

beyond cruel.  Being accused of "faking" the way my knees buckle and

 fold with every step I take, every moment of the day where I have the

 unfortunate experience of having to be around people at all, no matter where I go.

Is it no wonder that I absolutely dread having to be anywhere where 

people are.  I dread having to go to the store for food,

 or other necessary items, I hate going to the park where people are

 present, as they video tape the way I walk... 

while laughing their asses off as they do so.  I truly despise having to go

 or be anywhere anymore where people are present, knowing that my every 

move is being watched, commented loudly on, and the 

unwelcome audience my walking brings forth. 

 It is not something you ever get used to.  

And it is really turning me off from being 

around people, in any regard.  Knowing all the comments, 

and remarks that ensue with my every movement.

It wears on you in ways you can never imagine when you

 are not the one on the continual receiving end.

So I am truly Thankful that I have not turned into the kind of person who does

 this to others....Tearing others apart through words and actions.  

And I am thankful to have my stack of books and notebook that keep me 

company in the park on this Thanksgiving Day!

Life.... The Residual Aftereffects

  The Residuals of Life on the streets...

Life is becoming more like a residual aftereffect the longer I am forced to merely exist along the seams of humanity.  Though, exist, is really more than I have been allowed. Being on the streets for so long is eclipsing my life before.  It has literally become my life, who I am now, the person I never wanted to become.  Shadows of what life had once been.... becoming darker in colors and texture, no longer feels a part of my life, but rather something that was experienced in dreams, the images blurring more around the edges, becoming softer and fading where the detection of what was there is no longer visible.  

Many events in life shape, challenge, and define the very essence of who we are. Sometimes the defining moments are not ones we recognize when they are happening or when we are in the center of them around us, but usually becomes apparent in the lull between each other and before the next one takes hold.  Those moments transcribe themselves back to us.  Everything becoming more deeply embedded and incorporated within the threads of memory and every fiber of our being that are pieces and fragments of who we become, though doesn't define who we are, just adds to the whole.

My life has been filled and over-flowing with defining moments.... but nothing more so than my life on the streets...

One of the most defining moments in my life has literally become my very existence.....

and that is being forced to live my life on the streets, facing every day and moment on the streets without a home, without a bed, without a kitchen to store, prepare and cook my own meals, without a private restroom to do my personal and private business....  every moment defining and becoming so deeply ingrained, it seeps from my pores.  I can no longer even imagine what a home feels like. What a real bed feels like, what it is like being able to use the restroom in private without a full-on audience to watch the events unfolding as I clean up on the screen in the publics' eye.  My dreams no longer include a home but more of what life is on the streets.  All my dreams revolve about living on the streets, and the doors being slammed in my face time and again from the places that are "supposed" to be there to help.  Yet, not once has the help and assistance they are there to provide ever once been provided.

My life has been stripped bare of substance, sustenance, meaning....  stripped of my basic rights of a human being, my civil liberties, being denied my right to vote, to serve on a jury (yet, continually receive jury notices to appear), because the government insists on requiring a physical residence, and claiming you are not a "resident" of the county, no matter where you reside, when you do not have those coveted walls circled around you that gives the required numbers and names of the place you live.  Every last ounce of even the tiniest shred of privacy, destroyed and removed entirely from my life. So, the defining "moments" have become every single moment I continue to draw breath.  

Life becomes habit forming, a habit that cannot be broken.  A habit that requires endless endurance, while at the same time is so completely draining on so many levels.  Life on the streets is its own reality, and when you get caught in that reality.... it is one that takes hold and refuses to let go.

For nearly 2 solid decades, that hold has tightened like a noose around my neck.  And everywhere I have gone for help, only tightens the noose with increasing efficiency.