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...

And it was Christmas...

I went out onto the streets on Christmas Day to look around and buy a few essentials.

As it was money day and a holiday not all could be accomplished that was needed to be done. Smoke supplies were gotten, a couple of packs of factory made cigarettes and two new glass roses were bought.  A bottle of Diet Coke and twelve pack of "high gravity" beer was also picked up.

You know, the cheap stuff that tastes like shit but gets the job done.

The convenience store where I get my smoke supplies has acquired a beer license and so they have taken a corner of the place and set up some tables and chairs. The problem is that they had to drop a few items from there usual convenience store inventory.

Like bread and milk.

Chips, cookies, prepackaged baked goods and other junk food were in abundance. Soda, ice tea, energy drinks and that sort of thing filled the coolers as well. Let's not forget the back wall cooler that had a pretty varied assortment of import and domestic beer.

From high end imports to the shit that I bought.

I went to a few other stores in the hope that there would be someplace open to get those few extra supplies. There was no such luck as it appeared everyone wanted to take a day off from work. The only exception was the new beer shop. While the place wasn't packed, there were a few in there sipping.

The proprietors know their clientele and their needs.

One would have thought that the streets would have been deserted, and while the usual assortment of people weren't out that was not really the case. A few people could be seen walking  to or from some place. Judging from the time and direction they were traveling from they were probably leaving the Mission after having lunch.

A few did indeed seem to be wandering aimlessly. A couple of others were in the bus stops trying to catch a bit of a break from the cold and wind. One lady, upon hearing a distant siren started hollering "I got no warrants!  I got no warrants! Book 'em Danno!"

The Chinese restaurant was open as well. While tempted to go in, I wasn't really in the mood for their buffet and didn't feel like waiting for take-out. I guess I could have called for delivery, but by the time I returned home, the urge had passed.

Other things were on my mind.

One fellow was digging through the charity bin at Gannon University. He seems intent on improving or increasing his winter wardrobe. It just seems that when it gets cold around here enough layers are just not enough. He may also have been trying to work something out for some reasonable bedding

This scene very much reminded me of a picture I saw of Santa dumpster diving.

Same thing maybe, but different.

So had had my smokes, my beers and my new glass roses. Most everything got put away and the place was straightened up a bit.  A call was made as I got some cash.  Most was used to square accounts with the dude. With that I settled in and put a piece on my pipe.

Sometimes you just have to get away, you know.

They come and they go....

And sometimes you never see them again.

A friend sent the above link and it was like getting an electric shock

Over the years, the Erie Crackhead has met a lot of different women on the streets.  The reason, and this is said hesitantly, but when in a new town most crackheads seek out where the "stroll" was located. The main reason for that was when you find the girls, you have found dope.

And if you're not careful you may get way more than what you have bargained for...

It's that way in almost every major city I have been through. From New York City to Miami, from Charlotte to Minneapolis/St. Paul, from Pittsburgh to Atlanta and from Buffalo to Dallas along with most every larger city in between.

That would also include Erie, PA.

To say that my interest was strictly to acquire drugs would be dishonest. The sorry fact of the matter is that once crack was found and puffed up the way that I consume it, further contact with those girls was mostly for company. The mind might be willing, but that shit works better than salt peter.

Anyways, over the years more than a few of these women have stopped by my place.

They would stop by at weird hours to use their drugs in a mostly safe environment  Sometimes they would want to get a shower or change their clothes. Sometimes they needed to change their clothes to dodge someone looking for them.

You would also be surprised at how much a bright red wig can throw you off...

They might occasionally bring or want to get a bite to eat. Occasionally they would rent my room to use with a date.  Sometimes they would stop to treat bruises and cuts they received from a date or a mugger. I have had to get one to a hospital because the injuries were that severe.

Trust me though, I am no saint.

Usually when they stopped they had something for me.  They would always share what they had, whether it was food, drink or crack.  Well, always crack was shared as the house gets the first hit.  That is an unspoken rule all crackheads abide by.

I have gotten to know these women, and a few men who have taken to living this kind of life. Many, but not all, lived on the streets. Many, but not all, came from decent families. Many, but not all, had lives that more than a few of us could call a normal life. Most were intelligent, fairly well read and highly educated.

But not all.

Often when the drugs were gone and there was nothing to do but wait until morning, a storm to pass or for a drug dealer to show up (Always in five minutes) we would talk a bit. Sometimes it was about where we had been.  Talk was often about places we've been or things we had seen. We would talk about accomplishments that didn't seem as important to us anymore.  We sometimes would talk about the families or friends who were now in our past.

The only future we seemed to speak of was when that sumbitch would show with our shit.

But these girls would come and go. Show up at unexpected times, occasionally when their appearance was inconvenient. Knocking on the door at almost any hour of the day, but usually in the wee hours of the morning. Some might be by every day for a short period of time. I usually encouraged those to bounce as I didn't want them to be too comfortable.

More often or not things showed up missing with the more frequent visitors left. Some gave me the feeling that they wanted to move in, and I wasn't having that shit.  I have seen others who have put themselves into that spot and the ending was never pretty.

Others might only come around perhaps once a week or less as they had a number of safe places to post up.  These were the ones who didn't want to wear their welcome out at any one place. They were usually my favorites and were the most generous with their dope. You could also almost predict when so and so might show up at the door.

Crackheads, whatever their situation they are in are not noted for their predictability.

Now it has been mentioned before that they come and they go. Over the course of time though, some just disappeared. Some went to jail. Others were found or found out by family members and sent to rehab. Some found some fool willing to let them move in to the eventual dismay of all parties involved.

Unfortunately, some have indeed ended up dead.

You know what?

Well, you never know.

You never know when the phone is going to ring. That could happen at 3:00 AM just as easily as it could happen at 3:00 PM. It could also happen when you are too busy or broke to do anything about what might be offered or requested during the call. The thing might also ring at time when you are getting ready to make a call for something or someone.

You never know who is going to be on the other side of the line.

While caller ID does take some of the mystery out of that fact, it is occasionally a surprise at who's name may pop up on the screen. Sometimes it's a brand spanking new number not recognized. More often than not if it's a local number at a strange time it can be assumed fairly safely what the call might be about. Out of town or blocked numbers, especially during what many might consider normal business hours are generally ignored.

Unless they repeatedly try calling back several times in a very short period of time. Chances are that it will be someone who either has an offer they think I can't refuse. Another possibility is that they have something that they believe will get them through my door without too much of an argument.

Occasionally someone reaches out by sending a text.  This is becoming more frequent lately, as some I suspect are more comfortable communicating in that fashion.  Some people just don't like talking on the phone anymore and that is now seems to be the way of the world..

This might also be because the texts can be erased quickly or people think that type of communication is "safer."

The thing is that the calls or texts set a spark. The kindling that is in my mind doesn't need mush of a spark to
set a fire raging inside of me. Even if a call or text is ignored, the smoldering starts. Sometimes things heat up quickly and at other times it may not fully ignite for hours or even days.

While it might be nice though to put blame on others for my sometimes unexpected dives down into the rabbit hole, there is only one person to blame. It is no longer possible to say if this one didn't call or that text didn't come through things would have been so much better.

Besides, when I point a finger at someone else, there are three other fingers pointing back at me.