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.

Have you ever had one of those days...

One of those days when just the effort to get out of bed was monumental?

Yeah, everyone seems to have days like those.

Lately though it seems as though a day or two has been strung together in closer proximity to each other. Probably closer to a few weeks of this shit has been going on for me right now. A down cycle to be certain that might be fueled by my drug of choice and not really having anything pressing happening in life to push me out and about.

This is not to say that staying in bed 24/7 has actually happened, but the prospect of doing just that appear more attractive than moving around. This not to say that going out of doors hasn't happened either, but there has to be a real reason beyond just getting some fresh air to push me out of the door.

When getting out, some doors have been opened not available to me before, the thing is just the effort to get outside are much like the effort to get out of my bed in the morning. Getting to places not seen in some time has been possible. Getting involved in some activities not enjoyed for quite has been possible as well. It just seems that a super sized fire has to be lit under my ass for those things to happen.

Occasionally the match is struck by myself, but more often or not it takes someone else to instigate any action. Perhaps the things I have used to get motivated in the past seem to have lost their urgency. It might also be the lack urgency of those things is the result of the attitude of others who share or shared my interest in those things.

And all I can do is shrug.

There are also those trips that a born out of sheer necessity.

Interaction with other people also seems to be a low priority at this point in time. Even superficial chit chat has seemed to be an effort. Pushing some away, justifiably in my eyes and putting others a bit more on a back burner has been happening more often lately. Suffering fools has been more painful in a sense. Others attitudes or points of view seem to irritate me quicker as well.

Of equal importance is the fear of dragging others into my pit. There is a belief I hold, falsely or not, that this shit is as contagious as happiness. So in that belief, I do hermit up and put myself in a quarantine of sorts. To put people I care about into a funk like this would be cruel.

It just wouldn't be fair to give someone else a case of the sniffles, now would it...

There will those who will say that there are meds you can take this attitude or condition you are going through right now. There are those who may say, well you might want to go talk to your doc or a counselor or some other "professional" in the field.

They will happily prescribe what you need to make your days a bit sunnier. There exists a plethora of pills that will improve your mood and disposition. There are an armful of different pharmaceuticals that will put a bit of a spring into your step. A different drug for a different ailment and if they don't quite cut it, a supplement that will boost the other drugs effectiveness.

This is the thing though, putting that shit into my body just isn't going to cut it for me. For me, and this is not to say that others should not use those medications, but for me, I just can't see putting those drugs into my body. I am afraid that stuff will turn me into someone who is not me.

OK...

Stop laughing.

I know why....

Posting here has been infrequent.

There has been little or no real anger in my life and there is little left to fear, except as FDR put it, fear itself. Nothing exceptional has been happening either. Well, at least nothing that would need to be shared on this blog.

Not that it would matter from the point of view of what is going on in my mind. I still do what it is that drove me to write here in the first place, but the need to even write about that is diminished.

There has been reason lately though for some sort of zit popping, as anger has been slowing building up inside of me. The reason for it is my own doing and has to do with letting my own boundaries down a bit.

I don't don't often let others too close as it does seem to cause more frustration then an opportunity to open up or get close with another person. Getting intimate with people has it's risks. For them and myself as well.

This has been mentioned here before, but a hermit's existence is OK by me.

Also mentioned numerous times before, I don't have or really want many friends. Trust is a big issue. The other is that being alone has it's comforts. While there are times that loneliness may be an issue, there are ways to overcome that, thanks to the technology that is at damned near everyone's fingertips.

There have been articles written and studies done stating that in some measure as we become more connected through technology, we are also further separating ourselves from real human contact. There is a certain comfort with being able to strike up a conversation without risk of really connecting with another person.

This is the thing though, this world seems to have built for me.

It's possible to have shallow conversations with others without the risk of exposing oneself too much. It is possible to play in a fantasy world without the consequences of real life contact. It is a place where one can be witty, charming or disgusting and crude and most of the rest don't really care as long as their personal space or balloons are not pierced.

Occasionally though mistakes are made.

Information is exchanged. Real life conversations are had with others. Experiences to one degree or another are shared. But then you discover, or they discover that the price of giving up some of this privacy was not worth the effort. The gears aren't meshing and it is no fault of anyone.

There are people that I do have deep meaningful conversations and at times they are just surface chatter. Sort of like what's new today conversations just to touch base with each other. Some are damned near daily. Others are perhaps once a week or less. There are others still that may not call, or I call every three to six months.

Hell, there are those that may have contact with me once a year or less. The thing is though the exchanges are welcome and indeed at times needed by either them or me. Importantly though, in all those cases we respect each others boundaries.

There are those cases though, when someone seems to just want to maintain that shallow level of conservation to amuse themselves and inject themselves into or invade my life.

I really don't need that shit.

Getting a message or a text telling me or seemingly commanding me to "tell them something good" is a setup that is better avoided. The temptation to say something unpleasant or hurtful has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. Not to mention that being treated as a sideshow or circus act for one's amusement is distasteful and degrading.

The jokes and other nonsense are for my amusements. Those who get the gags are welcome to laugh along. Being a puppet is not part of my deal though, and those who invade my space to amuse themselves because they're bored or lonely usually get the boot pretty damned quick.

What is amazing to me as I was quite prepared to just let this all drop. But this zit, sitting on the end of nose grew to boil like proportions today. The cause may well have been this well meaning but misguided person who approached me early on yesterday. Sitting, reading, enjoying the sun and the breeze off the water, this fellow came up to me. After exchanging the usual pleasantries ones does with strangers in a public open space, my peace was shattered as they insisted in talking about Jesus.

The pressure is now off, but I'm afraid I've cracked the mirror.

"God does not play dice with the Universe."

Those words are attributed to Albert Einstein. In response to that Neils Bohr has been rumored to have relied, "Stop telling God what to do."

The above exchange is supposed to have been a result of an argument about quantum physics. A subject a person such as myself knows little about. What is known to me are some other things somewhat less lofty, but at times perhaps no less complicated.

Maybe it would be more correct to say the Erie Crackhead knows little about anything, but that doesn't keep him from spouting his mouth off. In this age of instant information there are abundant experts in damned near every field.

Some things actually are quite puzzling and indeed disturbing with the way the world is spinning today. People are finding themselves in situations for which there is no ready explaination. It has little or nothing to do with choices they made. It has little or nothing to do with bad habits, laziness or a lack of desire to get ahead in this world an be responsible participants.

Where I am and why are because of choices that were made. To say there is bitterness about that is extremely wrong. In some measure my life has become so uncomplicated as to be almost joyful at times. My needs are simple and resources are available so that basic needs are met.

Some more comforts would be there if it weren't for my continuing love affair with a rock. Again those are choices made and the consequences are fully realized. Those consequences are also more than financial, having an effect on my physical and mental health, but that's another post for another day.

This is the thing. Most people don't choose to be out of work. Most people don't choose not to pay their bills. Most people would prefer to eat a healthy diet. Most people would like to enjoy all the things that life has to offer. Most people would rather be honest, active players in pursuit of their dreams.

Most people would not choose to live their lives as a down and out druggie.

What is disturbing though as that there are more and more people who are being forced to make hard choices and it is because of no fault of their own. Some things that were stable are no longer that way. No longer is a decent way of life for those willing to put out a bit of effort guaranteed any longer.

There are no answers to this from me. A friend once said something along the lines of, "Now the rest of them are feeling what is was like for us."

The point of this, if there is one might be this though...
If there is a God and he is playing dice, it's time to step away from the table.

But who am I to tell God what to do?

It's been kind of hot...

Another summer when it gets sweaty around 10 in the morning and doesn't get comfortable again until 10 at night.

I have taken a few trips to the library to enjoy the air conditioning, but haven't taken any books out lately. I owe a $3.00 fine and every time I go, there isn't enough in my pocket to cover that cost. If there is, the small amount is usually going to be used for something of more immediate pleasure rather than cover past sins.

Sooner or later being blocked from using the computers or seeing a book that has to be read will have me coughing up the cash.

I did make a stop at a bar a few days ago. I lasted as long as it took to drink one beer. In the course of that short stay in this fine watering hole I was offered pills and a lollypop.

One fellow exposed his entire life by cleaning out his back pack on the bar. He was complaining that the air conditioning wasn't working all that well as he tore through his stuff, sorting out trash from things of value to himself. In some cases I think some of his treasures should have gone with the trash.

There is some stuff in this rat hole that many would just toss out in the garbage, so I should probably just be quiet.

Back at the bar, lady a few stools down from me complained about her good friend. It seems she thinks her dear pal has a serious drinking problem and is an alcoholic. This was accompanied by a lot of arm waving and finger pointing. Shortly afterwards, this sweet talking girl fell off of her stool.

And not one drop of beer was spilled.

That's was enough excitement for my $2.50 and I cruised on out of the door. Stopping in there three or four times a year provides a lot of action packed into a short span of time. Like watching an episode of The Twilight Zone.

Thankfully, it was a place where nobody knows my name.

On other fronts, crack has been scarce around here. The little bit that was consumed around check day was pretty shitty. And from what I've heard it's gotten worse. Two out of three slingers aren't answering the phone and the third has been trying to sell something that has no cocaine in it at all. So why even bother?

It's funny how some blessings come in strange ways.