I have a dream.

"I’m homeless, and I’m an alcoholic. But I have a dream."

"What's that?"

"I want to go fishing."

                                                                
Stumbled onto this pic on Tumblr. The dialog has been copy/pasted from the site as well.

Needless to say, this kicked me right in the gut. While not homeless and not alcoholic, some things have been put out of reach. Simple things that in the past have given much joy and pleasure. Many things that most of us don't give a second thought to doing, other than budgeting a bit of time.

Not to denigrate or stigmatize alcoholics, I'd rather be what I am and that...

It wanting for those types of things never hits at the right time though. The planning, even minimal thoughts as to what needs to be set aside are set aside by that beast that indeed lives inside of me. There are priorities, you know.  A friend once said that I know the consequences of my behavior and take it in stride.

While that may be true, there are times that the things that are missing hit me right in the face. The desire to enjoy a pastime so cherished in the past comes to haunt me in all sorts of different ways. To have the right equipment and licenses to enjoy this simple activity are bit beyond my reach at the moment.

To say that fishing is the only thing being set aside would be a lie. For some reason though it is one of the things that has been put away. Doing without is one thing that has been mastered. Self sacrifice for all the wrong reasons has been a way of life for awhile now

There are other appetites that need to be fed.

Not sure how to feel about this...

Many people might feel a cold tingling down their spine at the prospects this might present in their life. Some might make nothing or little about this situation. The thing is that there have been movies made and real life murders committed regarding this type of stuff.

The knowledge that there was a large life insurance policy in my name has always existed.

The policy was initially bought to cover business loans in the event of my untimely demise. The business had owned the policy. I had thought that once my presence from that business was terminated, the policy and the need for it would terminate as well.

I discovered awhile ago that the policy was still in effect.

Now, we all know that large corporations do indeed take out life insurance policies on the lives of key employees. Sometimes not so key employees, but it is a practice in our business world.  The initial idea was to cover the costs of training and possible income loss caused by the passing of a valuable member of the team.

In the cold, cold world of make money, make mo' money, that is no longer the case.

It is now the practice of many of these large corporations to continue paying on those policies. It's an investment. A small risk gambling that actuarial tables are on their side. A way to maximize the bottom line by doing nothing more than making token payments with the hopes that the person named in that policy shit the bed earlier than expected.

That's business for you...

There a little twist to this tale though. A twist that has me questioning motives and what is powering the kindness extended to me by others, well one, who has expressed deep loathing and hate for me in the past. A person who has been on one hand helpful on the other has been divisive and coldly calculating.

It appears that this person has acquired ownership of that policy.

Much water has passed under the bridge. Situations that could have put this in an all different light have disappeared long ago, along with all the cash puffed up by myself. There was a time all the financial woes and other perceived wrongs committed by me could have literally and figuratively been paid off.

I didn't do that and instead struck off in a different direction.

Part of it was mainly was the result of the feeling that remained after getting fucked in the ass with a Carborundum Condom.  Details of this are not included, but just lets say instead of getting the shitty end of the stick, all I got was the shit. The other part was being treated as much less than in a venture built from almost nothing but my hands and imagination.  Everybody knows that's exactly the way a crack head should be treated.

So I subscribed to the "Fuck me once, shame on you..."

Getting back to what has me feeling uncertain today, this past weekend, a day after my birthday no less, a balloon was floated by this person. They mentioned that they were considering selling the policy off. While the selling price is at a deep discount on the face value, it would be sufficient to get this person right financially and toddle off to a pleasant retirement.

Imagine my surprise that investment groups now have been set up that will buy these life insurance policies. Death pools, with a handsome payoff once the insured schmuck kicks the bucket.  The only thing required of me is signing off on this and allowing the investment group to peek at my medical information.

Then the statement was made, "You would probably make a fuss." I never knew a fuss could be made until they mentioned that little fact.

Heh...
I had better watch my step.

It's starting to get ugly out there

I try to get out as much as possible. At times it a struggle to get out the door, but sunshine and fresh air are a tonic to me at times. Also on the hotter muggy days, the air down near the dock and along the bay seems to be a lot cooler than in this place.

Making my way around the dock, an old acquaintance passed by.

He looked pretty rough. He made like everything was fine, but if one had to guess, he appeared as though he hadn't had a shower or shave in more than a few days. His teeth appears to be brown and he had a nasty assed gash on his forehead. A series of stitches ran for about an inch and a half.  This fellow told me there was another series of stitches under the top layer.

We made a bit of small about how things were going.  Then I asked about the gash on his head. He said some guy came up from behind him, spun him around and cracked him in the head. Whoever it was snagged his bag containing the few belongings he owned.

Some clothes and other odds and ends, but nothing of value.

After getting beat with a club or maybe just a rock or brick he woke up in the emergency room. Thankfully the hospital was within a few blocks away from where he was assaulted.  Stitched up and back on the street, he did look like a wreck, but at least he was still sucking air.

Maybe the crook who jacked him thought that this fellow looked like he might have something of value. His bag did look like the ones used for carrying lap top computers. The thing that was troubling though, is it seems to be getting to the point where those who have nothing are trying to get what they can from others who have nothing as well.

Then again, maybe it's always been ugly out there and I just haven't been paying attention.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

I've had good neighbors and some who have been great neighbors.

There have been neighbors who know pretty much everything there is to know about me. There have also been neighbors that have shared what they are about with me. They have left me in peace when that's what is needed. They have also been by when company is exactly what is called for at that time.

There have been times that drugs, weed, booze and food was shared among ourselves.  Sometimes we just sat and shared stories and and drank Kool-Aid or soda. Then there have been other neighbors that have been private people who kept to themselves. They always had a smile and would wave "Hi!" if you saw them on the street.

That's OK with me too...

As time passes people move on to better surroundings. That's the way it's supposed to work. Good things happen or opportunities present themselves.  Only a fool would pass up a chance to get out of this hole. To be completely honest, if it weren't for certain amenities in this place that serve my life style, I would be gone as well.

Some may have gone back to jail. While I can't say that this guy was exactly a friend of any sort, he respected my space and I respected his.  To say he's back in jail may be wrong, but considering his history, my money is on that fact being close to the truth. Unless he's dead, but I would have heard about his kicking the bucket.

Some do just die, but that has been talked about that quite a few posts back.

Now it seems as though Karma is evening things up a bit in regards to having good neighbors. A new neighbor has been a pain in the ass since the day they moved into this building. From the racket that was made from their moving into the place to their guests ringing the wrong bell or knocking on my door.

There is a small vestibule at the front of my apartment. In the past, when others have lived in the adjoining apartment, sometimes my bell will be rung by mistake. A few times actually, my bell been has been rung on purpose when there is no response from the other apartment.

This has been by people I knew and they either wanted information as to the whereabouts of my neighbor. I if usually didn't know or played dumb. I figured that if my neighbor wanted company, they would answer the door themselves. Other times folks have dropped of packages for a neighbor, knowing that it would get to who it was intended for without any problems.

So when my new neighbor's friends ring my bell and I answer they are usually chased away. They insist at times on coming in to knock on the other door. I push the door into their face after informing them they have rung the wrong bell. I get dirty looks, but really don't give a shit.  The way I look at it, if my neighbors want to let their friends or drug dealers in, that's there choice, not mine.

What really has been bothering me lately though is this person mistaking a bit of kindness for weakness.

When first moving in they didn't have a phone, so I allowed them a few calls to relatives or whoever to find missing appliances or to request they drop off a piece of furniture. My mistake in the last instance of using my phone was when, after offering them a few minutes of privacy to make a call. After about fifteen minutes, I knocked on their open door to retrieve my phone. That when I walked into them laying back on their couch while madly dialing away to get another call in.

Fuck that shit.

Then there is the cigarette thing. Once they knocked and asked if they could have a smoke. I passed on five or six. That should be sufficient until they could get to a store and buy their own. After all, it was late at night and an open store is a walk through a bad neighborhood to get a pack.

I was kind of surprised when the following morning there was another knock on the door for smokes. Figuring they were just getting up, I passed two more butts through the door.  About six hours later they were knocking on the door again. This time I gave them one smoke.

Things quieted down for a day or so until the knocking came again at my door.  This time I was told they were getting their check and as soon as it came, they were going to the bank to cash it and buy me a pack of smokes.

I'm still waiting for those smokes.

So now when the door is being knocked on, I usually ignore the pounding. Sometimes I do answer and am out of whatever is being requested. Sometimes and more frequently now I just reply that I am busy or have company. Whether busy or not, company or not, I am too busy to come to the door.

So it now it usually goes like this:
Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!
"I'm busy!"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
"I"M BUSY!!!"

KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!
"I SAID I'M FUCKINGGGGG BUSY!!!!!!!!!"

Crack Kills

Sometimes it's not  the crack head that dies.

Today someone I knew from a long time ago was arraigned for the murder of his alleged dealer. This occasionally happens, especially when the "dude" thinks they own you. It also can happen when the crack head realizes that that dealer may indeed own them.

In this case the "Dude" made it clear that this smoker was not to be doing business with others.

It may also have something to do with the fact that this guy was walking out the door with about $500.00 of this poor suckers hard earned cash. The Dude smacking this poor soul once before turning around probably didn't help either. Another thing to consider is the crack head owed others and was at his wits end how everyone was going to be kept happy.

Trust me on this, it happens all too often.

Crack dealers love people who have a steady and reliable source of income. While they don't often do fronts, occasionally that steady income can be tempting to their greed. The temptation to ask for that front is also too much at times for the steady crack enthusiast.

That's the way the shit works.

So after the dude smacks his customer across the face, this enraged fool cracks the dealer on his head with a baseball bat.  Then he takes back his money so he can either pay another dealer off or make a call for more shit. Self defense is out the door as the bigger and meaner fellow had his back turned on his assailant.

Shit happens when a brain is scrambled by this drug.

While not there and can only imagine what happened next beyond what has been published in the news. One would like to think that bills were paid. Chances are pretty good that either another dealer was paid or another party has had with the cash recovered from the victim.  Much of this is speculation on my part, but this much is certain...

Crack kills.

This normally doesn't bother me...

Having been where I've been over the past twenty years have hardened me.

Sometimes it is a good thing. A defense and an armor against slights, comments or the plain shear rudeness people can inflict on each other. Years of practice have prepared me for the ignorance, pettiness and bigotry people have in their hearts.

To be honest, I have been insensitive to others as well. Perhaps another self-defense mechanism designed to protect myself from feeling. Empathy, something that is learned over time has been hard for me to learn. After all, I am a callous bastard whose only interest is in myself.

Or so I've been told.

Today started with some promise of being a good day. Things were going to be accomplished. Food would be gotten at the neighborhood pantry. Laundry, which desperately needs to be done, would have been gotten out of the way.  Enough cash would remain to get a bottle of something at the liquor store. A few bottles of the cheap ass wine I've come to enjoy or perhaps some rum.

No Uncle Vlad for me, thank you. That shit will kill you.

Anyway, to make a short story shorter, the pantry was fairly empty today. Probably, as many recently received their checks, the need to stock up on free supplies was unnecessary. The usual supply of soup, canned goods and bread was available. Added to that was sliced luncheon ham and lettuce.  Coffee, chocolate and cookies were also available.

Some items will be used and other stuff will be gotten to those who might have a need. From past history the stuff that gets passed on gets passed on again. It's the way people who have little for one reason or another do business.

A few things are put away for a special occasion or will gifted.

So after going through the line and getting that stuff, I wished the nice people there a good weekend. The sentiment was returned by a few. Everything was great until almost reaching the door, one lady who has always been particularly nice to me and most others, as far as I can tell, said something that almost had me in tears.

Words that are still rattling around in my head, as they were said with so much sincerity that it was almost crippling. Words that I would love to hear from at least one soul who I think of daily.  The sorry fact of the matter though is I have no one to blame but myself for the situation that exists.

The words so cheerfully and sincerely said to me that they almost shook me to my knees?

Have a Happy Father's Day.

I had better get my laundry done. Heaven forbid I get hit by a bus wearing dirty underwear.

I said this in a comment

 "Sorry for the delay, but I only come around here when something is bugging me and the need to talk about it arises."


Something is bugging me and the need to talk about it has arisen.

The reason I haven't been writing here much may be fear as much as anything. Fear of really saying anything but happy shit about my life. A chameleon of sorts who makes people think, "Well, he's OK."

OK.

Maybe you bought into that bullshit or saw right through it. I tend to think more saw through the bullshit. Could be wrong about that though. Maybe most don't give a shit.

I am again approaching and perhaps already in is the hole I put myself into financially and mentally.  The same hole I put myself into last month.


And the month before that...

And the month before...

And the month...

Now you know why I really haven't been here.  

Been hiding out in plain sight.

Snow is falling...

I can see it falling through the twisted blinds at the window just above my head.

The blinds in this and a few other windows in this place are the victims of my cats. They want to see what is going on outside and nothing will get in their way. They are independent creatures in almost every way.

For them, I am here to put out food and fresh water and clean the litter boxes.

Occasionally one or the other will want to crawl up onto my lap. This is to get a bit of warmth from me, as the heat in this place is iffy at times at best, or to see what I might be doing on this computer. Other times it's an effort to con me out of a treat.

I'm easy about that kind of thing.

One of them is starting to piss me off to a degree though. It has always had this thing about peeing in places where it shouldn't. Some have said that this is because of a possible UTI. Considering the time this has gone on and the fact that it is not constant, that idea was put to rest.

She does have an affinity to peeing on carpets and runners that have a rubber backing. That was obvious last winter when she was constantly peeing on a runner I placed at the back door. A place to stomp the snow off of my boots and them keep them there until the next time I went outside.  The other thing she has taken to is peeing on certain types of paper. In particular those glossy magazines and junk mailers that business send to us all.

Today I heard her scratching on a pile of mail I had forgotten about.

I have been lazy about picking up around here. Sometimes it seems like weeks before some pile of one thing or another is gone through and properly disposed.

Sometimes it's months.

So there is this scratching going on behind me. It seems as though a pile of mail and magazines fell in between a chair and the wall. She was in this little hidey hole, face out and scratching the papers like it was a the clay in a litter box.

Sighs...

My nose is not nearly as good as it once was. I could smell a gas leak hours before anyone was aware of a problem. The smell of weed burning could be detected a block before arriving at the party place.  Someone cooking or smoking crack inside a locked house was picked up way before opening a door. The smell of cooking liver would destroy my appetite for hours.

Perhaps the things I've ingested over the years have destroyed  most of my olfactory senses. Perhaps my room mates have helped to a degree as well,making me immune to their scents.

Today though, after hearing her scratch and pulling her out of that space reawakened my nose.  Pulling the envelopes and bulk mailings of political candidates, grocery and drug store fliers, and past issues of magazines created a stench beyond belief.  Spraying Febreze, some cat odor neutralizer as well burning some Nag Champa has done little to abate the stench.

The snow is still falling though... I can see it through the twisted blinds at the window just above my head.

While this is another chore avoided mightily, I can't think of a better time to go out and shovel the stairs and the walk.

A matter of perspective...

To be certain there are those who know little of me beyond this blog.

The pictures I try to project at times are not all that pretty. They are not really meant to be either, but there are flashes of good, perhaps even beauty that at times flow into my world. The consequences of my existence are also not a bleak as many might think.

Trying to be realistic though, this is not a lifestyle that any sane person would recommend to anyone.

There are facets, rather than compartments, of my life that are known to a very few people. There are those who know the unvarnished truth about the who and why of me.  The reason for that is we have shared ourselves with each other. The process was not something that happened overnight and certainly is based on much trust and sharing.  The number of these people who are real friends are much less than a handful and involve much more than what's in this blog.

There are more than a few who know little more about me than my oddball sense of humor and that really quite alright. A few get the jokes or understand the sarcasm used to not really mask but to more highlight opinions or feelings about one thing or another.  Another facet perhaps that is used to get to meet different people who either find me interesting or the other way around.

Shrugs... Or to suck them in to a degree.

To be honest though, there are not a lot of those even know about this blog or much about myself beyond the sometimes simple minded jerk that I like to play. Those who seem a bit more real or interested in who is behind the screen are invited to read this stuff.

And to be certain, there are those who read this blog who are totally unaware of my other...facets.

Which brings us here. Occasionally this tune is posted and it always gets my noodle working overtime. Every time it's watched something different is taken from the video. Probably every one who watches it takes something different from it as well. The artist's motivation could probably be Googled, but I won't bother.

That would probably spoil it all.

But today it seems to say that even in this fucked up world and in often shitty existence of many of those around us there are at times bits of beauty and joy.

Well, anyways today there are for me...