Thu.1.Nov2012: 10.18 I gave up on the night at 2.50 this morning. Had an odd dream that sums it up:
*DREAM: Airport check-in. Manhattan. 33rd/ParkAv. (It was actually the TD where I used to banque but it was an air-line terminal now.) I had no ticket but an Asian woman in a stewardess uniform encouraged me to get on a Lufthansa (ironic, that air-line… that name) flight. It was going to Germany. I had no business or reason to go to Germany but, (I don’t recall why) I HAD to get away! She bade me slip my back-pack through a small opening into the terminal where she took it beyond the security check. She then opened a glass door and rushed me in. The flight was boarding. I was one of 3 people to wait at the metal screening, about 10 people were beyond that, waiting to retrieve their carry-on baggage. Something had stopped the flow of people! I thought: I’d been given a ball-point pen with an explosive mechanism in it (I have no idea now by whom or why). But MOST important to me was that my BDM was in my back-pack! I cared only about that. I was worried that security had found it, were confiscating it! That’s all I could think about. As I waited, I noticed a terra cotta urn, some 2 metres tall, like a large strawberry pot. It contained a sort of thick, purplish liquid (similar to the water I’d seen on last night’s news where several automobiles were sunk in a massive amount of water at what looked like the entrance to the BklnBattery Tunnel, but this liquid was more the colour of the walls in ‘my’ room at the house). I took a large cup, for no apparent reason, and added some liquid to the urn. It over-flowed! The liquid just kept running out of the openings! Somehow I knew it was toxic but didn’t care. I was hopeful it would kill me. A security guard noticed, but just looked at me, as if just disgusted with me… I woke.* 10.40 NO PHONE AGAIN! NO SERVICE AT ALL AGAIN! NONE’ NOTHING! NO SERVICE AVAILABLE! AGAIN! Not even out in the back yard! – Silas got called to work. And I’m really ALONE now.. and not comfortable about it. The sky is solid grey… just grey. Just grey. (finishing 1 Nov) It became quite the day! I was uncomfortable being alone in the house. Not afraid, just not comfortable being alone. But when Silas got in from work, he immediately offered to take me to the Jericho PO! It was an interesting trip but I noticed that as soon as we crossed into Chittenden I felt oppressed! Passing MillsPark I relived the exhaustion, the search for refuge and my body actually experienced the fatigue! It was disgusting, on many levels and many ways. Just the county repulses me now. – Mail consisted of State Insurance papers and pay advices. That’s it. Fine. When we left the PO, Silas headed to Essex. He insisted on taking me to the Grand Buffet. En route, he confided how he dislikes Heather for a multitude of reasons but that the “have a chemistry”. He’s quite the bore when it comes to that “chemistry” item. But, he continued, they share nothing else in common. Hmm… Oh well. It’s his business and not mine. He also confided that she wants to move in: no job, no self image, no support, not even Food Stamps, no ambition. Again… not my concern. But great in-sight, to be sure. I let him talk now… he divulges a great deal. – Neither of us ate much. But we left full. – I got word: tomorrow’s work hours are cancelled. No word either way on future hours but Héléne is still hanging in. Poor dear. – En route back to the house, more talk in which he accused me of “burning all my bridges” since I’ve been in VT. I pointed-out how, when I first met him, he’d already made enemies of people not only in VT but NY as well. How, for him to do that was more impressive since he’d come from the opposite end of the continent and had had no connexions with this area to begin with. I got no argument. He recognised and admitted some defeat, but offered little defence. All said however, it was such a joy to pass time with him again. It truly was. – When we got back to the house, we settled-in in his room to watch “Little Budha” but got into a discussion: I told him I’d begun investigating services for recovery volunteers in NYC and that, depending on how things go here, in the house, I’m considering packing the car, driving to Queens to put my things in storage and just staying in NYC. I told him I feel obligated to “get out of his way”. He quickly said “I wanted to take my friend to dinner today to show that I don’t think of you being in my wat, that I want you to stay but not at the cost of losing a friend.” I accepted his statement ts its worth: good only for that moment, no more, no less. “Trust” is gone. A shame, but a fact. – Tonight I asked: Does he want cash for rent this month or prefer oil fir heat? With a relieved and joyful smile he said, in delight “Oil!” He’d been wondering how to swing that necessity, knowing temperatures were heading down to below freezing in the coming nights. (Documented.) I agreed to get oil the coming week. He sounded delighted! Still, he’s sticking to his 2-week “allowance” to see how Fate turns. Indeed. We settled-in to watch the movie. – A message from Bob tonight: Welcome to drop by on week-end. OK. I’ll see. – Tonight ended so peacefully! I’m happy to journal that fact.

Fri2.Nov: 24.15 The house is silent. Rain falls ever so softly against the roof. The kitchen is as immaculate as I could get it having washed dishes, bleached stove and counters. Don? Of you give the slightest damn about your property, you will see: You’ve aligned your allegiances with the wrong party. And I intend to return your favours. – That said, before I get caught-up with yesterday and today, a dissertation on observation I feel sufficiently educated to comment on, considering my education at 3 institutions of higher education in New York:
“Our boy”, dear Silas, is, in every clinical sense, Borderline. He is also deficient in any of what most consider, social graces and responsibility. From our conversations of the past 3 days, I’ve concluded, based on what he’s volunteered (questionable or not)…
•On the issue of trust: Born with a severe cleft, hair-lip and so-forth, hr was subjected to, in his count, 15 re-constructive surgeries before his 18th birthday, bi-annually. According to his information, he would no sooner recover from one and, in his mind, he would be subjected to further trauma. He’s had bone transplanted from hip to face, removal of front teeth which are now a dental bridge, spent most of his memorable child-hood being mocked, ridiculed and rejected because if his afflictions and disfigurement. This put him in a mental mind-set where-by he felt forced to do all he could to garner any peer acceptance available. In spite of conscious and concerted efforts to be accepted, he continued to be ridiculed and rejected by those who meant most to him. Today, he continues to attempt to find acceptance, from all persons, by what-ever means he sees as appropriate including wining, dining and “dating” women whom he can feel confident with, whom he feels are inferior to him in appearance or other-wise, and, usually, before they have the opportunity to reject him, he consciously or un-consciously creates a negative environment, tension of any sort so that either he or the other will end the relationship. In all cases, he justifies “his” reason(s) for the termination and convinces himself that he has terminated on the fault(s) of the other. Meanwhile, his self-esteem
is negligible, he portrays self-confidence as a defence mechanism and projects his own phantasies about others onto the party/parties involved. Meanwhile, he works and strives toward the failure and destruction of relationships, all.
•On the matter if social graces/responsibility, he has had a miserable parental and social paradigm. His mother and father conceived him at a time when both were using several recreational drugs. Subsequently, his lesbian mother grew to resent his father and, according to him, his mother “turned” his father rather against women for quite a while. His mother lived her lesbian life-style, his father, after a while, took to dating young girls of Silas’ age and younger. His father, as I understand, has low esteem and very little respect for women and others. Silas’ theory is that it’s a direct result of his mother’s deceit and the misery she wrought during what I’m to understand was a marriage. His father is currently 55/56 years of age, single and dating women of Silas’ age, and rather the “Playboy” type. His mother is a hypochondriac and almost psychopathic when it comes to illness and ailments, complaining of every pain imaginable, some, merely manifested and lacking medical/organic substance. By his own admission, the house in which she lives with her Significant Other of 27 years is clean only because of the Other. In other words; Silas is a house-keeping slob because that is how his mother always has been, depending and counting upon others to take care of them, cleaning behind them (apparently in the house-hold environment and in general life). It’s apparent that it is “normal” and acceptable behaviour to leave used cooking utensils and dishes about, to neglect cleaning and trash removal because this is the manner in which his parents (mother particularly) behave. He is, in this respect, incapable of comprehending how/why this negligence annoys others. Apparently, his “room-mates” through life have all quietly compensated for his sloppiness. Although his child-hood contact with his parents was quite limited, they essentially impressed upon him that leaving food un-covered on counters, not promptly removing garbage, ignoring spills on the floor, simply wiping used dishes and returning used dishes to the cup-board is proper. His paradigm is skewed into a generally socially unacceptable behaviour pattern. But, in concert with child-hood inferiority complex, he deeply resents any attempt at changing his perspective on just about anything, inclusive of his house-keeping.
•To-date, his dating/relationships follow a classic, basic example of Narcissistic Borderline Personality as does his house-keeping and his need for quick Closure to just about everything. His relationships, including the most recent with Heather, result in arguments and blame, on the Other. He tends to be completely understanding and immediately critical, often scathingly so, of others.
This said, my personal decision to try and stay here in this house, that I love and am other-wise most comfortable in, depends primarily upon my ability and willingness to tolerate his insecurities, immaturity. Only Time will bring the end results of my decision one way or another. This brings me to a point of today: Silas is quick to repeat that he is willing to give his time in this house only 2 weeks before he makes his decision whether to stay or leave (to return to his mother, or, as of today, return to California where he has admitted most of his “friends” are not truly missing him). When, this morning I told him of my recent thought of returning to NYC as a volunteer to help with recovery efforts, and to do so as soon as this coming Tuesday, he immediately rejected the idea, pointing out that I should stay in close proximity to the North, should not put myself back into a situation where-by my prospects offer little or nothing more than a return to a Homeless shelter. He offered encouragement that life here will improve for me and that I shouldn’t leave before trying all options. He then deflected all responsibility for my un-settled feelings by placing full blame and responsibility on PJ’s presumptuousness and deceit. He wants and needs to be the one to dissolve the situation and our relationship. Indeed, it is all with-in the clinical documentation of psychotic behaviour. And I am very much aware of it.
I remain convinced: his parents are failures, as parents, mentors, teachers and people. It doesn’t account for all if his psychoses, but it does account for much. They are shameful failures. As for the day in general, it began with a message from storage: they’re open again! The building survived! – In a search for images of Rockaway, one showed the house on RBB to be intact! I wouldn’t return there, but it certainly gave me some relief. That led to the thought: Pack the car, drive it (to its death, of course) to storage where I’ll put my few belongings, and join the recovery volunteers there. And generally fuk VT, let the Courts issue an arrest warrant and come for me. Even now, I’m seriously considering and am thinking that the coming days will dictate my decision. I’m still living in a room of packed boxes snd, frankly, annoyed and angry. – This morning also brought some disturbing news: Silas’s new “beau”, Ms. Heather had, during the night, essentially “dumped” him… on Facebook! A lengthy, nasty message on Skype accompanied. He was hurt and angry, of course (SHE dumped HIM, AND did so on Social Media!) I understand his anger, her decision to leave him, but I disagree with the use of Social Media and have neither sympathy nor compassion for either of them. She’s irresponsible, having 3 children, 2 left in Utah, the 3rd being raised by her mother and he’s rather the same and basically used her to fill a need to feel needed and to avoid being left alone. Both in their 30′s, they’re selfish and immature. So be it. – This morning also brought a message from Bob and Lyle saying that I should feel welcome to visit over the week-end. This situation is becoming too “kind and familiar” too quickly and I’m feeling less comfortable about taking the room in their house. But it is comforting to become friends, no matter what the moving situation becomes. – The entire week-end work has been cancelled leaving me understanding and yet, annoyed and concerned. But future possibilities seem intact. Time, again… – This afternoon Silas offered to drive into Hannaford’s for groceries and, of course, I accepted. Blatant and obvious: He bout perishables and I bought tinned items that can be stored in my room, didn’t require preparation or cooking. I made a point of telling him I’d done so intentionally so to keep away from kitchen and stove and out of his way. He simply went silent. Me? I don’t give a shit how he “feels” about it. I merely said “There are the times when I’m thankful for my time in the Shelter.” He remained deathly silent. Fukkit. Fukhim.” So my provisions are stocked in my book-case. I AM in “Shelter” mode! In more ways than just food. But we did have fun! – Back at the house, Silas cooked a stove-top “tuna-noodle” “hot dish” which he shared and was delicious! He also made sugar cookies (box mix) and thanked me for baking hints. The cookies too, were quite good. – The remainder of the night we passed in his room watching several episodes of “Walking Dead”, I sat on a chair, he laid in hid bed. I finally came up-stairs at 22.25.

Sat.3.Nov: 2.01 Screaming in the streets. 2 girls, one barefoot. I went down-stairs to check on Silas. Room dark. House fine. – (Sun.4.Nov:7.54) Another yesterday has passed and here I am… A dull Saturday. Rain. Grey. Cold. Nothing. Shameful. Winter is coming and this is what I’d looked forward to all through the hot days of Summer. But today? I was just… stupid. Truly. Some-how I allowed Silas’ misery to pull me down. It was quite oppressive. All day his misery surrounded me. It was actually palpable. At one point, I stood at my western window and noticed, felt the “darkness” on my arms, torso, legs. Wow. It was all but suffocating! – Most of the day was on Twitter, searching through rubble… messages of up-dates on Rockaway. Asking questions that never got answered. I’m still contemplating going back, to help with recovery, to go back, to stay, to get the fuk out of this miserable state (of Vermont, of misery, depression, of shit). But, then, comes the reality: This shit won’t last eternally (unless I hold on to it). And my mood changed from internalised depression to projected anger. I kept fluctuating through the day. – I moved the packed boxes out of the room to the hall. It emptied the room, organised it better but emptied it. I was relieved to not see clutter, but the void became more pronounced. And the depression/anger switches snapped more rapidly. Even Silas commented: “You’re getting worse as the day goes on.” You know what? Yes! I am. Particularly when I’m around YOU, worthless shit moron! So I made only enough contact to keep his shit-mood from exploding. Now I’m his Nurse-and-Nanny! And more resentful. – At one point, in the middle of talking, a sentence, he grabbed his phone and rang his mommie. I just walked away. From up-stairs I heard him discussing the Occupys… I’ve been waiting to hear if any of them are transporting volunteers from up here. If so, I just might go. – Momentarily I thought of scanning the water-colours I’ve done here, then trashing the works. I asked Silas if we could do so tomorrow and he said yes. But then he really burned me:
•I told you, you can leave all your things here, with me, and I’ll keep it all safe. – I won’t do that, leave that responsibility on someone else. Besides, the last time I trusted someone with that, my own sister, I lost over 50 years of EVERYTHING because she simply decided to put it all into storage and then not pay the bill! I have almost nothing now. Do you really think I can trust YOU or ANYbody like that EVER? No.
•I’ll buy them from you. I don’t want to know that the one of Emily’s Bridge will be destroyed. We had a really wonderful day, that day, searching for some obscure, 10ft covered bridge. It was so much fun! – Yes. And like everything else, that too went wrong, turned rotten, became part of the shit. It too got negated. And now, today, it’s just more of the putrid experience of Vermont. No. I want NO remnants to survive. Only reason I’d take my sleeping bag and cot is to have something to sleep on. Otherwise, it ALL goes to the dump before I leave here… leaving it ALL right here, where it came from and where it needs to stay. Besides, those water-colours represent a Hope I had, a goal, ambition, promises. Steve, Fran, even YOU: “You’ll have time and a place where you can do MORE water-colours.” Yeah, fUkME! And I had exhibit space in Jericho that I had let go when Fran’s shit hit the walls… to come here… with TWO exhibits in Burlington that I have to let go because of MORE shit! And you “want” the works I’ve done? No. Not even for cash. They represent lies, deceit, hurt, anger. There’s nothing good left in them. Gotta go. –
As I say, it was a day of Grand Stupidity; I allowed HIS psychotic bull-shit to shroud me. – As the day progressed, I brushed my teeth and showered, for the first time since Thursday after-noon! I dressed and strolled out for smokes. The woman at the little market spoke with me, folks here haven’t really done that. I’m a “presence” in town now. I’m “establishing” and yet, I’m allowing some discontent malcontent psycho to rip it all from me! I’m aware of this, resentful of it, but right now, it’s a bit over-whelming and difficult to battle. -As a diversion, I stopped in at Sue’s place, across the street, to look at a set of chairs, for the kitchen. A diversion. 295$ for 4 caned chairs… that need repair! I got so pissed-off I just had to leave there. (If I could get into BTV, I could get 4 chairs, in good order, fir 40$!) And so, back up the hill and into the darkness of this house. (Note: that darkness is only on the 1st floor… Silas.) – Silas had been going in and out all day, for this and that. He’d been drinking liquid Tylenol, his tonsils, throat and chest are bothering him. Well Fuknut, you and your bull-shit food and shirking (ah, that word: shirking… he accuses me of “shirking”.) your responsibilities to take the meds you ADMIT to needing. Anyway, he got on a “baking” binge. This time, sugar cookies. He’d found a recipe, on-line. But I noticed: he kneads dough, but I’ve yet to see him wash his hands. Then, the bowls and such he uses all have a thin coating of greasy film. Even after he “washes” them. The recipe called for poking decorative indentations on the cookies… he did… with a ball-point PEN! And when they were “done”… according to him, the insides were still almost raw. But I said nothing on all of this. No sense. And, he was proud of his accomplishment, so? Jump ahead to this evening: he’d found a recipe for bread. I swear it’s competitive now, because he’s seen me bake bread, but he went right into it. Note? The dough fit into a rather small bowl, which he covered with another bowl, which he placed IN THE FLOOR in his room, beside the heat registre. The dough rose, displacing the upper bowl, and rested… on the floor. The loaf got baked. – I don’t know why I’m journaling this. I guess I’m rather shocked by it. But it verifies: the place his mother lives in is clean only because his mother, like him, has found somebody ELSE who is responsible, adult, and maintains at least basic cleanliness. The 2 of them are, what Jeanna used to repeatedly call “Users-Takers”. I call them “Abusively Worthless”. – And I move along… I’d had the stove, counters, kitchen cleaned better than ever. It was, again, filthy! And, as usual, common, “normal”… Silas walked away from it, sink FULL of dirty dishes, dough all over, and retreated to his chambres. Fukkit! I left it. – The day went into night and my mood went into… I straightened my cot (bed) and looked at the banner from the “Occupy Wall Street” days. It struck me: I participated in the founding days of the epicentre of this Global movement! I stood in the rain, cold, hungry, tired, living in a Homeless Shelter! That banner was photographed, appeared on the Internet! I was someBODY! I STILL AM! I AM a part of a great Global movement that’s now taking MOST of the responsibility for recovering NYC in the aftermath of a hurricane! I AM! I may be in the presence of “useless”, but I AM NOT now and have NOT BEEN “useless” and I will NOT BE “useless”! The banner went up on the wall… I was “Working Homeless”! I brought the “Working Homeless” to Global attention! I survived! I will NOW survive, for MY pleasure! MINE! And my anger of the day turned… to determination and defiance! OK then! – Tonight I made pan-fried biscuits and po’man’s gravy. Dinner. Meal. I ate whilst on Twitter with Nanc. It was SO GREAT to communicate with her again! She inspires. Does more good to heal a battered Spirit than I think she knows. Inspires. Rescues. Tonight, as I stuffed starch into my-self, she destroyed the oppressive dark shroud that had weighed me down all day. I “celebrated”… had a drink ad I twittered. – The day wound-down and, in spite of or despite the oppressiveness of witnessing the twitter accounts of looting and such, I went into the shelters, food, water, help, compassion I was seeing! Mark, in Boston, is now “housed”, no longer in Shelter. Having a tough time of it too. But the guy who wanted PopTarts (and got me stuck on them even to now… a box on-hand) is not “out on the streets”! How we’ve changed over about 2 years. How we’ve changed… How we’ve changed… yet, remained the same… but further educated. Older and experienced. And weary.

Sun.4.Nov: It’s 7.54 and I’m on 8.54. “Daylight Savings” is done. The Winter months are “just there, just past where you can see”. I woke to the radio that again, last night, I didn’t turn off. French. HOME! Angry. Wanting to PUNCH… someBODY, squarely in the face, to hear bone crush and snap! But not over-whelmingly so. And not really in a negative. Remnants of yesterday’s resentments. Just “energy” that needs displacement. And the realisation: Last night Nanc encouraged… you will get home… hang in there. I’m letting me slip, letting me let that useless little “fat kid” fuk me over! Him, encouraged by his equally failure mother! FUKME! It took EXACTLY 30 YEARS to get back up here to The North Country! And I’m going to let these waste-land pustules TAKE this away? O HELL NO! If ANYbody’s “going”… New York here will see to it that BOTH of THEM GO! – And at 9.57, that’s my attitude. Now, on a drizzly North Country morn… Off to FTW! – You CAN Tu PEUX partir
quand TU veux
which doesn’t mean you HAVE to! (8.44) – 10.03 I’m posting this and will continue later… – – 11.20 About an hour ago, I went down-stairs. Silas was sorting deposit bottles to take to market. When I asked if he was feeling better, he snapped “No.” and walked away to his room. OK. I crept back up-stairs, silently. But today, a list is on my wall: ”THIRTY 30 BLOODYMUTHERFUCKING YEARS!!!” Jotted reminders to my-self of seeing goals attained and dreams becoming realities. and what I deferred to help him, and Fran and all the rest! And how, today, that stops. Today I’m feeling most abused. Maybe, today, at long last, I’m “awake”. Silas has taken off in the car. I went to the kitchen. Bottles are gone, dishes in sink, last night’s dough still on the stove, cup-boards open. From anxieties of what’s to come, the anticipation of being verbally attacked again today, made me physically sick, wanting to vomit acidic bile. And a continuing thought: you fuck me because you can… but only because I’ve allowed it. I’m FURIOUS today… with ME! Today, now, that stops. The verbal assault will come. I’m actually waiting for the caustic texts to begin. – 12.12 And Mr.B. is down-stairs, in the kitchen, SLAMMING! SLAMMING! cup-board doors! SLAMMING! – Meanwhile, I just saw a video… THE HOUSE IN ROCK PARK IS THERE! as if nothing happened. The nrw Social Security building looks complete. And the hair-dresser’s seems to be the Centre. But the entire north-side of the bloc. to 116 is nothing but rubble! Laundry, shoe repair, realtor… gone. Just… gone. – 18.30 The whole damned house is thumping and crashing! Hillary Roberts blasting her TV or stereo and Silas Lee Burton (Yes, I’m naming names) slamming cup-boards. And somebody banging/pounding/tapping on walls. It’s very like slumskum ghetto. – 21.24 Day done. BFD. And this isn’t going to post in order because I’d posted directly during the day. But, OK, who cares? – The caustic texts didn’t come but one with a heart did. I’m a dikhed: it touches me when he does that. But soon enough, reality snaps in and I know he’s capable of instant changes. Deep inside, he harbours hatred for and against me. I’m “aware”… Hatred and Resentment. Fukkim. Really. – And the day went along quietly… until Hillary came back from her BurlingtonFuckFest (of every week-end). Stereo up, boom-booming through the walls. And Don says she’s so quiet. That’s what folk who don’t live in the house can say. – Then, come to find out, Silas was baking… bread. So funny. If I were stupid, I’d find it cute. It’s competitive. I bake. He MUST accomplish “One-up-manship”. He baked a loaf for his mommie. Terribly sad. – As I said to Nanc earlier (Twitter-night with Nanc! Yay! I’m always happy when we can chat a bit): Silas will be rather in a bind when a real Winter comes rolling in and he finds himself alone. (Even if we are here, in this house, he will be very much alone. He’s lost a Friend. I’m out.) – Other-wise, it was a wasted day. I’m exceedingly tired these days and, in the drizzle, there’s no sense venturing. I worked precious little on the wall. Eats consisted of a room temperature Progresso soup from the can and a tap-water Ramen. Back to living out of a “locker” just like the Shelter. But arse-hole will be gone most of the week… studies in Essex and staying by mommies’. Ball-less bitch… him… not her. Well, at least he has his mommie to run to. Kriste! That makes me want to puke! But it’s amusing in a manner: he thinks him-self quite the “Man”. Oh well. – Must add here: the down-stairs smells heavily of un-bathed, “old man”… stale air. Thick. My room is fresh, airy. I don’t believe I need say more on the subject. – Hopefully I’ll get this on-line now. There’s been trouble with the WiFi tonight. (I expect Silas will cut it while he’s gone… lock his PC, if he could, he’d lock “his” ”rooms” I’m certain.) – I’m going to try for some quality sleep tonight.

Mon.5.Nov: 7.40 Guy Fawkes. Woke about an hour ago, just in time to see the steady, quiet, * * SNOW * * falling! Not much, and certainly not by local standards. But it was so beautiful, so calming, so welcome. I drifted, smiling, back to sleep for a while. It hasn’t amounted to much. More like a very heavy frost. But, it’s begun. Flocons! The start. As I had my morning smoke, looking out the window, the painful reality: Snow, Winter, the North Country… and Québec, only 2km out-side the door… I can’t (legally) go HOME to see it all together. This is the ultimate time: first snow, beginning of Winter season, Québec… I can’t… assumed guilty, reputation destroyed, psychotic brat threatening to pull it all out… I’m going to need all… ALL of my resources now. (My insides are knotting painfully this morning. And just this moment, 7.52, the crashing, of the door down-stairs, running water… PsychoBrat… he has work this morning. In another time, I’d be compassionate; he’s got to drive about this morning, in the cold and dusting. This morning, I rather revel in the thought. Hey! I’ll be driving about, on treadless tyres.)
But, as I woke, a DREAM… fragment:
I was in the car, just out-side the house, preparing to go somewhere. It was dark out-side. I was facing the window in my room. The light went on. Clearly, I could see Silas, looking into things I’d put on my “desk”. I was angry! He waited until he thought I was out of the house, but not long enough. I tooted the car horn. He ignored and kept looking… I woke.
Will it be one of those days? I wonder… Yesterday I over-heard him talk with his mommie. I believe he’ll be heading to her after work today. He’ll be gone until Thursday. My question: will he turn the computer off, cutting me from Internet? (If so, will I be abke to simply get it back?) Time… just Time will tell. – 14.59 So Silas comes STORMING in from work. I go to speak, kindly, and he stomps past me, no eye contact: “Oh. Hi.” Out to the car. OK then! That was about 20mins ago. Since, it’s been slamming doors, banging dishes, stomping. Pleasant. – Received word from work: My assignment is cancelled for this month! Just what I need. Here we go again. Rent. Heating oil… and a CAR! Hopefully I’ll get assignments back by BTV (commuter bus every day). – 24.09 Home alone at last! WHAT a day of emotional turmoils! And revelations and in-sights. – The day was going fine, I worked on the wall, to my delight, as snows fell beautifully out-side the window. Ah… Winter. Suddenly! BANG! CRASH!! RUMBLE!!! I went down-stairs to witness… yes… ANOTHER Silas melt-down. Kriste this child is truly, in the clinical sense, fukked up beyond ANY patient or client I’ve EVER dealt with in ALL my years! Just amazingly miserable! Seems the Postal vehicle broke down, he had to wait for a tow. Oh my fukking god! “It was intentional!” “They sent me out in that thing knowing it would break-down!” and that sort of tantrum. And… he was packing! Not just to stay by his mommie for the next few days… PACKING! Even tossed 2 chairs out onto the porch! One HUGE infantile tantrum! Crying because the Post Office “set him up to fail”. Just amazingly incredible! So I did what HAD to be done at the moment: listened, comforted, consoled… all the while thinking how miserably spoiled rotten he is and what useless shit his parents are for allowing him to become this way… spoiled, unrealistic, completely out of touch with ANY reality at all! I grow weary of picking up the pieces of his self-imposed misery brought on by failed parents. But, he is younger than Cynthia’s age, and I hope that, in her times of feelin over-whelmed, someone was there to support and console her. – When, at last, he calmed, we somehow segued into being in this house and it came out: He’s not used to being left so alone. He’s always had somebody around in all his living situations, from Grand-mother to room-mates. He’s always lived in smaller spaces. When I work night-shifts, he feels very much alonr in here and on Fridays and Saturdays, even his Hillary is gone so he truly IS “alone”. This town is small, empty, quiet, rather dark. We have no taxi, bus, no police of our own and he often becomes anxious. The house echoes every slightest click, clack, tick and thump. The furnace can be heard and the forced air even makes sounds he’s completely un-familiar with. It often becomes un-nerving, frightening. I have to admit, empathy struck me and I did feel so painfully sorry for him in spite of the feeling that he needs to grow up. It must be very difficult for him here, alone… frightened. We talked about it a while. He seemed calmer, consoled… he gathered his belongings quietly: Even his futon? His mommie has no place for him to sleep! Again, she invites him into her home, just as she did when she invited him to move here, and again, she has no comforts for him. Well? HIS “parent”, HIS life. I did what I could… what I have no business doing… raising some-one else’s “child”. But, he left, calmer for it. – For the next 3 hours I got straight to work: CLEANING!!! Scrubbing stove, counters, floors, bringing the chairs back in from the porch. Took an empty box from under the stairs, the old lampe from the back room, set-up something slightly resembling a sitting area with light in the living-room. 3 hours later, the house smelled clean, cared-for and actually lived-in. It was delightful! – As I enjoyed my surroundings… calmly, up-stairs… BANG! Down-stairs! Then BANG! again! So, down the stairs, expecting some pissed Town’s-folk breaking in with vengeance for some stupid shit dear Silas may have said or done against him or, Hillary, rummaging for something or another (I don’t doubt that she has keys… probably the complete set). It was about 20.00 and Silas had been gone long enough to have been settling at mommie’s. As I got to his room, the source of the noise, there he was, once again, wound tightly (his muthuhFmother does that to him) more-so than before he left! He’d forgotten the power cord to his lao-top (and driven almost 60 miles back to get it!). It took under 5 minutes for him spill some dried tea on the counter, tromp through the house. Well under 5 minutes and… destruction. I focused on the days to follow and my temporary pleasure here. But then? THEN… RIGHT BACK INTO DEFEAT! Fuk his damnable mother! Just fuk her! She managed, in short order, to shove him BACK into the dark hole that is HER existence! Once again, he’s prepared to throw it all away, try to break the lease, go back to mommie. Simultaneously and concurrently (here-in the psychosis), he’ll keep this place, get work in the BTV area, stay by mommie’s for the week and come here on week-ends. He wants to BUY a house and… “I’ll never have a family…” FAMILY? His list of failed “relationships” is about as long as the tomes of VT Statutes… Annotated! He still “loves” Rachel (to whom he sold his Net-book after investing several 100$ only to tell that her brat-kid-spore stepped on it, destroying it, and that he left on such violent terms that he forgot his 500$ camera which she STILL has because he “can’t” go back to retrieve it). Then, he’ll get work at TeddyBear, Customer Service, 9$/hr (my first “job” when I got to VT). Indeed. Well, I listened… listened. And, again… again, by the time he left (again) (at 21.00… he went to mommie’s tonight so he’d be able to rest for early class tomorrow morning), the World was OK (again). Assuredly, mommie will change that in short order upon his return. Fukkit. – I RE-cleaned and retired up-stairs in the returned calm of this magnificent old house. “Retired up-stairs”. The house was delightfully warm, comfortable. – *Happy Note*: iTunes had arranged for a down-load of ALL my purchases, via iPod! It was SUPER fascinating! 191 songs! all ready to be refreshed, re-loaded! ALL of them! It took a couple of hours but… MY MUSIC is BACK! MUSIC! BACK! (My “sister” didn’t even offer to replace ANYthing she’d casually and thoughtlessly tossed away.) But my MUSIC is BACK tonight! The house is clean, peaceful, warm, calm… and music is back! – I ask no forgiveness for thinking: Silas is gone, Peace comes to the house. – I managed a few moments on Twitter before finishing the day at 24.35. – Tomorrow I have ANOTHER Court visit to look forward to, compliments of Silas Lee Burton, Shit-hole Extraordinaire. Fukkit. Really.

Tue.6.Nov: 8.04 Up at 6.30 nauseated. Last night’s eating? Anxieties? I don’t know. Slept well. Just worried sbout the car this morning. If I trust words, I’ve no-where to be. But I know better and a trip into St.A. is surely in best interest. I’m bloody fed-up with trusting people… and then having to remove the machete from my rectum. So… Another day. Quite chilly, a bit sunny. And this old house is SO calm and quiet! So calm… and quite clean too! – A note: Vermont Co-Op Electric uses a shade of blue not un-like ConEd’s blue. I recall Paul K. having told me, MANY years ago (1970′s) that the colour is patented. Interesting. But every time I see a VT Co-op car my brain snaps to ConEd. Bitter-sweet. – 13.50 and back at the house… the warm, clean, quiet, drama-free house. And it was good that I went to the Court House today. It began with a shortened shower that went COLD before it was done. The water heater heats about a litre… shit. But a shower I got, in a warm house. Then out into the crisp air at about 9.00, key in ignition and… SMOKE! White smoke (a Pope was elected this morning in Richford). And then? Off to the banque for cash, to the service station for gas (was on E… which we know is not indicative of “E”nough), air for the low (bald) tyre and down the roads! We were movin’ on! – The drive went as well as a good drive in a dying car could be. I headed directly for the Court House and got the same parking spot as the last time I was there! How ’bout that? – The Court House guards were the usual delight and the same Clerk was there.
“Goodmorning. Where are you supposed to be?”
“I’m not sure. I’m not even sure I’m supposed to be here, but I’ve come to make certain.”
Clerk checks calendar and says:
“I know you but can’t remember your name. I’m sorry.”
I’ve become ‘known’ and after only 1 visit!
I told him my name and he looked. YES! I was on the calendar, 10.45… “STALKING” charge! Last on the list, pen line through, DISMISSED! I engaged in a bit of further discussion on the matter just to be absolutely certain that there was no cause to stay and be heard, and I DID use the opportunity to say: “This is what happens when people refuse to take prescribed mood-stabilising medications.” Indeed, it’s been said. The kindly Clerk assured me that “Stalking” is a new item and it is, indeed and in fact, rescindable. All was fine. And so, I left, rather delighted. Still, I’m pissed: my name on ANOTHER Court calendar in ANOTHER county! – Since I had phone service, I rang the oil company and placed a delivery for tomorrow. Just under 200$ again. MY responsibility. Just last night, Silas said: What-ever’s left in the tank should carry us through November so save your money. (Clueless!) Oil will be delivered. It’s Novembre… on the 45th (44,99th) Parallel! O my fuk. *I* will NOT freeze! – And, being in “The Big City”, I headed off, in search of speakers for the iPod and my MUSIC! A popper-stop before all. A gift to me… just because. Then off to browse Staples, got cheap (a bit tinny) 20$ speakers at RadioShack, got matte fixative at JoAnn’s (for the wall sketch when done). I wanted to stop to see Mme. but I suddenly became most uncomfortable: St.A., the car, J.San, Doug… an over-whelming feeling of “Get Out!” so, I did. – OH! The drive back to the house was nothing short of breath-takingly MAGNIFCENT! The tops of the surrounding hills are heavily dusted in snow! Shades of white and grey. Each valley and crevice is pronounced. In spots, the reflected sun-light glowed! In other places, the grey lulled the senses, calm, serene, comforting. Meanwhile, I drove on clear, dry roads, passing deep green lawns and meadows, and deep brown, freshly manured soils, prepared for the Winter and next year’s crops. I was just in a state of personal Joy. And I noticed: with Silas gone, I find pleasure in the World. Un-like when he’s around. – I got back to a clean, warm, calm house… and I was hungry! But before food, I sat on the floor of my room, counting singles and loose change… oil delivery tomorrow. Cash only. Cash was here. I was glad… happy… Happy. Then, I ate… breakfast cereal, but I ATE! – Next? In the mood, no obstructions, repairs to be accomplished: the kitchen light down-stairs and the bath tub up-stairs. And I was delighted to effect them! In relatively short order I got the light working again! Success number 1! Pleased with this, I retired up-stairs… I SO needed a nap! And, at 14.04 until 14.45 I did so… in Peace. When I woke, I got to the wall sketch. Every time I look at it I’m really amazed that I’m creating this work! AND I listened to my MUSIC! Yes, the speakers are a bit tinny, but, I can listen to music! – The day went along beautifully and by about 17.30 I was hungry. Took a tin of Progresso soup and a package of Ramen noodles down to the kitchen. The KITCHEN! The CLEAN, orderly kitchen! I’m not “cooking” and the “food” isn’t the greatest, but it’s “cooked” and hot fot a change. – 18.00 and I hear the back door open… SILAS! AGAIN! He whined about the cost of gas to commute to class from here and that he doesn’t have money. (*****OH! He came to Vermont with 40k$ in his account. He’s down to 2k!!!!! Credit card bills from HERE! No doubt, many from the 60$ dinners he entertained his whores on.*****) Yet, he left yesterday and returned, then left, and here he was again. Tonight? To COOK … lunches for class… his mommie isn’t providing food! Then, he gathered some laundry to be done (at mommie’s). But what followed was… well… interesting? He went into a diatribe on the “shame” of getting Food Stamps! Suddenly it’s a “shame”full thing! (His mommie, no doubt.) (I note: when we went shopping on the 1st, his total came to well over 100$… name brands, exotic foods and seasonings; mine was 70$-exactly, TINS of pasta and soups, non-dairy creamer, “Shelter” foods.) Here, I MUST journal: We both started at the 200$ max. He was living expense-free, save gas for the car, at his mommie’s. I was paying 800$ rent. I began working few hours… my benefits were decreased. He began working, bringing 900$ pay-cheques… HIS benefits have NOT been decreased! My hours and income increased… slightly… another decrease. His benefits remain at max. Indeed. Yet he whines: He can’t survive on 50$/week in food AND it causes “shame” to use Food Stamps to buy food; causes un-due stress to wait every month for “a lousy 200$”. WHERE the fuk does HE get off with this? (And yes, I AM aware… I could make it so that he’ll have to pay back, be brought up on charges of fraud… I AM aware… but why would I?) Once again, I licked wounds, encouraged, consoled, returned peace of mind. Oh just shoot me! Please! Somebody! But I CERTAINLY MUST NOTE: It’s to MY BENEFIT… Bottom line? I love this house… I can’t afford it on my own… I’m doing this to keep this house! I’m doing it for ME, ALONE! Let it be noted. – He spoke about the people he’s meeting at class and… AND he’s learning the machinations and mentality of the postal svce. Nothing *I* haven’t already told him. But, as is usually the case, people tend to NOT listen to me. Oh well. Learn late, dear Silas. Learn late. I don’t much care any more. You’ve lost a Good Friend. Period. End. Book closed. – And so, the little flea departed, once again, into the night. Amazingly, the kitchen was none-the-worse! He put the pots to soak. I put all into the dish-washer, rinse. Fuk the rest. – In the peace that ensued… up to fix the bath-tub! And by 19.11… DONE! I sent a text to Silas:
“Bath tub fixed. TWO UNION LICENSED CONTRACTOR JOBS TODAY! Miss me when I’m gone. :P”
Indeed, it will be so. – Pleased with my-self, I settled-down for the night. How-ever, I began to notice a slight chill to the air. Hmm… Since it’s been MY sole responsibility to attend such things, I went to the cellar to check the oil… All but EMPTY! -6 degrees in the forecast and… Oh well. “Frontiersman” time tonight. The electric heaters went on, I poured a drink, and retired to Twitter… and some cocktailing. Fukkit! This day is so Oh-vuh. I accomplished. Fukdarest.

Wed.7.Nov: 00.25 Yes Silas, I did drink almost all of the vodka in the freezer. No, it’s not mine. No, I don’t give a fuck since you don’t drink. Yes, I did drink myself to sleep. The oil tank is empty. It’s currently minus 6 degrees out-side. You warmed Hillary and Heather, with that oil AND electric heaters; you’ve REPEATEDLY left doors wide open with your tantrum comings and goings; AND you’re now threatening me with ripping this house out from under me? Put my name on ANOTHER Court calendar in ANOTHER county? And accuse me of “shirking” my financial responsibilities when I pay 100% of the heating for you and your needy little girl-friends? You bitch when I smoke cigarettes in my room in front of an open window with exhaust fan yet allow Hillary to smoke marijuana in your room? I happen to LOVE this house and town! YOU can’t handle it and won’t because of some stupid shit your neurotic mother feeds you and because you’re too bloodyfukking immature to handle ANY responsibility. You PROMISED me a place of rest and peace and so far, neither has come. Worse? YOU have me living out of packed boxes AGAIN, ready to bolt AGAIN, when you throw your final tantrum. You’re my sister, Margot, Steve AND Fran… ALL in one. So yes, I drank your damned vodka tonight. FukYou! – 8.00 The house is warm this morning! The boiler is amazingly efficient. And I’m ever so thankful for that. It’s beautiful out-side: Everything covered in glitter of ice crystals and a bit of ice fog filtering a Winter sun-rise. A quick check shows -6 this morning. Most of me is quite happy. Most… I worry about having no work last week, essentially having no car, covering future oil bills, rent, pending litigations, unbelievable. No peace… But the house is warm this morning, and oil will be delivered soon. I look no further than that. – OH SHIT! JUST REALISED… MY PHONE CUTS TOMORROW! I have to get to Williston! (678 service days and time of 20.28 showing on the shit-phone.) – 10.26 No oil delivery yet. I’ve lowered the thermostat to 60. –
Messages in (at 11.16 Fukking phone!):
7.23 Hope your day is starting better then [sic] mine. Student loan payment went through, throwing acct into negative./and I owe money for electric on the 9th
Replies: There are options to control w/out decreasing your credit score.
Surely your mum & Gwen know & can help.
Btw the oil tank went to empty last night. Chilly but oil is on the way.
(He came back with total misunderstanding and some mention of his mommie’s medical bills. Oh well.)
17.00 OIL! Just over ,25 tank but HEAT! 179,95$ paid and I save the house! Just in time too! Sun’s gone, I’d taken the elec. heater from Silas’ room, put it in the living-room to keep the boiler from kicking on, did the oven at 180F. But, no sooner had I done… MY SAVIOUR! I saw the truck come up the hill and all I could think was “My Bayada Nurse! Saved!” Yes indeed, saved. The house was down to 60 and dropping but not so cold as to re-heat quickly. In only 9 minutes, the room has gone from 18 to 20 degrees! Toasty! – I feel like eating something. I had a huge bowl of oatmeal with molasses earlier, but the warmth and the relief is making me want to eat again. Perhaps later. I’ve precious little food left… in tins. I don’t dare to touch “his” in the fridge. – Tomorrow I’ll have to venture into WalMart to pay the phone… No phone, no work. So logical, rational, responsible… WHY?!? Because… just because. – Now that the drama has passed, I’m tired too! TooTOO early for the night, tooTOO late for a nap. Maybe a shower and much-needed laundry. It’s gone warm enough. – Oh… I have a terrible feeling Silas has failed to pay the electric bill(s). He mentioned having to pay by the 9th. I’m thinking I’ll be paying that… leaving me with NOTHING! Oh and oh… one of his messages:
11:30 Start making ready, I’m gonna be out dec 1st. At this point my savings is my survival for maybe two months, and that’s without 800 rent.
11:43 I can’t make rent for dec.
No admission (again) that he made very poor judgment calls with his whores. No consideration for where I (don’t) have to go to. No consideration that, if I COULD go to NYC, I’d have to have money to keep coming back here for Court. Honestly? I don’t understand:
•He came here a year ago with 40k.
•He had no rent/utils/food expenses
•Lived free for a YEAR!
•Blew 40k in a year!
I didn’t even make that much WORKING! Fukshit! THIS boy needs the “Tough Love” speech. If he gets angry, too fukking bad. And lose him as a “friend”? No loss. But he will NOT make MY existence ANY more difficult than it already is! The Fin. – 19.13 I can’t believe that I accomplished nothing with this day. Nothing. Waiting for oil delivery, I didn’t even sketch! Dealing with defeatist text messages from Silas, I accomplished nothing! And now, the day is gone! Nothing! I’m annoyed and disappointed with me. And tomorrow I need to get to Williston! Car? Bus? If bus, no return until 18.00. If car? Gas, and nerves! Much to consider tonight. But I paid for the heat that I enjoy now. – 21.54 Showered, laundry in washer. I hesitated to make a wash so late but Ms. Hillary has Nr. Mike over and am I ever aware of it: banging, crashing, yelling. So? Hey! It never posed a problemme when Silas did his wash at 22.00. Tough shit tonight. – Temperature is 1 and the heat keeps coming. 20 in the room but seems cooler down-stairs. – I’m a mess over this business with Silas. I think of how he’d said, when I was expecting to be in Phleb class for 2 months with-out income: ‘Don’t worry, I can carry the place for the 8 weeks.’ and ‘You’ll have a place to come home to and rest and study.’ We’ve been her 2 months, 12 days… and already he’s doing to me exactly what he accused me of doing (when I had NO thought of such a thing): “ditching out”. Not even 3 full months later. 12 days past the 8 weeks I’d have been studying. Mr. Bigshit! Mr. “I Sign The Lease Alone”. Mr. “I’m Going To Mommie!” And fuk me… with truly NO-where to go. OK then. Well, I know what I can do, and I’ll do what I must do. And we will see what that becomes. – Odd too: I thought… He’s in Essex tomorrow and I need to go to Williston. If I still thought of him as a “friend”, in any sense of the word, I’d ask if I could take the bus down and ride back up here with him in the evening… since his classes are complete tomorrow. I wouldn’t DARE ask ANYthing of him now. (But the time is coming to TELL him what I WILL IF he tries “ditching out” on me.) I honestly don’t and can’t think of him in any manner of “friend”. It’s a shame, really. But, I will help him if possible, to get through these difficult times. I learned how and, as Mum would say: education and knowledge are worthless if we don’t share where needed. And as I say: If I’ve done something to please, don’t thank me, thank my Mother.
*****
22.26: Just before Hurricane Sandy hit NYC, I’d gotten a voice message from Motek… Thinking of you, wondering how you are, the hurricane is due. Then, as is usual, I went for days with-out phone service so I couldn’t call him. Right after the hurricane, I tried calling him from St.A. where I had full signal but circuits must have been full… I couldn’t get through. So tonight, before going to bed, I sent an e-mail, hoping for an eventual reply…
22.42: A REPLY! HE’S FINE! Just getting in from work! They’re ALL OK! ALL IS WELL! And in the midst of the turmoil and terror that is my existence in VT, I sighed in relief! He’s OK!
*****

Thu.8.Nov: 7.44 Woke during the night, probably due to the noise from Hillary’s… her cats. Drifted back to sleep to wake again at 6.45. I under an oppressive and pending depression this morning: My prediction is…
Silas will return tonight or tomorrow with-out any of the bedding and such he took with him to his mommie’s. There will be no talking. There will be a lot of hearing him throw tirade and tantrum. The bottom line will be his defeat. I’ve no doubt that he’s already spoken with Don, arranged to leave, and not by 1st Dec. but, more than likely, this week-end. And… I’m just fukked to death. Yes indeed. I ponder returning to NYC. There’s nothing there save volunteering with Recovery. No shelter. No job. And then I ponder the 2km from HOME, and having gotten this close and the situation here… and if a good day comes between right now and the end of this month, I WILL be HOME for Christmas, in a little wooded area, from where I will never again leave. This morning, I do believe I’ll prep for that. – 8.11 The thermostat in the living-room indicates 21deg(70). The room is 17deg. I am in 2 hooded sweat-shirts and cannot get the chill out of my bones. – A check on the weather forecast shows that Monday is supposed to be sunny, rather warm at about 16deg. Novembre… Remembrance Day… Is it? Yes. I have time to prep. I’ve come this far to get this close to reach a goal. This house, this town, this proximity, these are Gifts. Creation, Fate, my Mum, they’ve given me these Gifts. Finally! SOMETHING has turned-out GOOD. And I, like my Mum, I get a long-yearned-for Peace… and I get to go HOME. No drama, no more drama. I even get time to “make ready”. (Silas’ message from yesterday: 11:30 Start making ready, I’m gonna be out dec 1st.) Thanks Silas! You actually did accomplish something good: I AM GOING HOME!!!!! and you made it possible… in more ways than one. – Now, to clean this house, clean me, and figure how the hell to get to Williston… It won’t matter next week, but having phone service? I suppose I should. Why? Just on account b’cause. -13.46 Have spent the morning “making ready”: hair-cut, mani/pedicure, washed 2nd storey floors and wood-work, washed stairs, washed dining/living-room floors. Things ate orderly, in good order to be thrown out easily. And now, I expect… expect (a word worth repeating) a U-Haul to show in the drive, doors will slam open, stomping foot-steps, crashing of home furnishings, and a silent, angry departure… or, some diatribe about not being able to make it, moving here was a mistake, Post Office lied to me snd hates me, you disappointed me… &c. Either way, I expect… expect (a word worth repeating) to find my-self sitting in an other-wise empty house as the road dust settles into the grey, over-cast sun-set. I expect… expect (a word worth repeating). I’ve pondered going through the mail (at least 2 weeks’ worth is in the mail-box, in-touched, addressed to Silas) to dig out the electric bill. If I can afford it or, if I can make payment arrangements, it would be to my benefit to cover it. I paid 57$ just over a week ago; half of the 113$ I was told the bill was. Silas asked for only 30, admitting he uses more electric than I (true that, computer, cooking, porch lights left on…) but that’s not an issue as far as I’m concerned. What IS my concern is: What has he done with the money I’ve given him? The worst of all this? I do know well enough, he’ll talk with his mommie (who’ll poison his mind), Hillary, and others. Me? I sit in solitary… no one to talk with about any of this… waiting… silently. Oh well. – Sitting in silence. 14.06. Tired. Weary, actually. Just weary. – ***** 18.59 I’m such a mess right now that I can’t get into it. So here, the msg. to Nanc: “At about 5pm Silas walked in. I was up-stairs. I went down to see how his classes went. He said “Hey”, walked away into his room and packed his winter clothes into a box. Went on a raging tirade about the Post Office screwing him by cutting his hours, maxing 3 or 4 credit cards. I tried telling him that there are many options open concerning credit cards, student loans and even utilities. He brushed it off and then dropped the bomb: He’s out of here at the end of the month. “If YOU want to stay on here that’s on YOU!” Quietly, I said “You give me 23 days’ notice? You have your mother to go to. I have no-where. I have to be in court on the 30th and again on Dec. 6. I can’t go to NY and do those trips. If I miss even one appearance, they’ll issue a warrant for my arrest.” (I just presented it as a matter of fact.) WOW!!! He SCREECHED at me!!! “Why’re you throwing a guilt-trip on me?!!!” I quietly said: “I can’t do that… you’re incapable of feeling guilt.” I left to have a cigarette. When I came back in I asked ” Can you tell me what your actual move-out date will be?” He tensed, glared at me and growled “I HAVE to be OUT OF HERE BEFORE DECEMBER 1st!” I thanked him for the info and left him to finish his packing. I came up-stairs to begin searching for rent assistance/housing. About 20 minutes later, I went down-stairs to run to the store… Alone. He left. I think he has to be at work here in the morning, but I don’t know that he’ll come back tonight.
Meanwhile… he NEVER paid the electric bill! It’s due TOMORROW!!! I investigated to see if I can pay it with-out knowing the acct number. Yes. I gave him my half each month, the bill is in his name, no paper bills, all on-line. But and so, I have to get that covered before it gets cut off. Even if I’m here another week or so, no electric means no kicking the boiler on. No heat. Amazing. Not certain what I’ll do. A 3-day week-end screws things a bit. I know I can’t swing this place alone and I don’t know that (a) I’ll be able to stay – since THE lease is in Silas’ name only (but I have a Lease with him and will investigate my legal options there including suing for insufficient notice, illegal notice not in writing, breach of contract, &c), (b) if the Owner will let me stay at reduced rent – which, at this moment won’t do me much good since I’ve put a pay-cheque into rent, utilities, oil already, (c) if the Owner will let me take another renter.
Well Nanc? I came to Vermont for a “Life”. If this is “Life” I prefer the “existence” I had in NYC.
Will keep you informed (until he takes the WiFi which runs off his computer).
I just had to tell somebody. I hope you don’t get this until after your trip. (I’m pondering holding it for a while…) I know there’s nothing you can do to change this… but just knowing that somebody knows helps tremendously.
*****
And here I sit, alone. Yes, the rent’s covered through the month. Yes, there’s oil for heat. But… what AFTER? What?
*****
The house was calm but I was not, sitting up-stairs, waiting for the storm to come slamming in through the door. Waiting for the U-Haul to arrive, wondering if it would bring 1 or 2 (mommie or Gwen) or 3 (the troops). Then, at about 17.00, Silas came tear-assing into the drive and walked into the kitchen. rather quietly. I waited a moment then went down… to see how his classes went. With little affect, and as if greeting some stranger on the street he said “Hey”, walked away into his room and began packing his winter clothes into a box. At first, I made conversation about his classes, he answered, congenially, talking about gripes shared with others, information he was getting about the PO and a job offer from a PM some-where south of BTV. All the while this was going on, I was sick to my stomach: with absolutely NO regard for me at all, he was packing to simply walk out, walk away, and say nothing to me about it. I don’t recall what I said, exactly, but I couldn’t get any volume to my voice from the constriction in my chest from the anxiety of being ignored, dismissed but as suddenly as a Summer hail-storm strikes, he went on a raging tirade about the Post Office screwing him by cutting his hours, maxing 3 or 4 credit cards, his account being over-drawn and his credit score plummeting! As is and always has been, I tried telling him that there are many options open concerning his credit cards, student loans and even utilities where-by he can make things easier, more controlled and still save his score. He brushed it off, continuing to pack. Because I mention utilities, he admitted that he NEVER paid the electric bill! It’s due TOMORROW!!! He went into a bit on how the payment will be post-marked on the due-date and that they “can’t” cut the electric. (I’d already investigated to see if I can pay it with-out knowing the acct number. An e-mail to the company AND a Twitter to the CEO! Yes, I can… even a partial. I gave Silas my half each month, the bill is in his name, no paper bills, all on-line. To ease the tension, express sympathy for his dilemma, I said so and quickly added that I understood if he’d applied those payments to his own expenses. He never even acknowledged my comment. Meanwhile, I kept thinking: I have to get that covered before electric gets cut off. Even if I’m here another week or so, no electric means no kicking the boiler on. No heat.) ***** And then dropped the bomb in a hot and blazing flash: He’s out of here at the end of the month. “If YOU want to stay-on here that’s on YOU! YOU go talk to Don! I’m gonna do what I have to do and if that means I have to move back into my mother’s and listen to them tell me about them having to clean up my mess that’s what I’m gonna do!” Quietly, I said “You give me 23 days’ notice? You have your mother to go to. I have no-where. I have to be in court on the 30th and again on Dec. 6. I can’t go to NY and do those trips. If I miss even one appearance, they’ll issue a warrant for my arrest. And you put me on TWO calendars in TWO counties in this state. That doesn’t make it easier for me at my job now, and certainly doesn’t help me get other work, even in NY.” (I just presented it as a matter of fact. I had no emotion left in me.) WOW!!! He SCREECHED at me!!! Actually SCREECHED: “Why’re you throwing a guilt-trip on me?!!! What’s that all about? Huh? Yes, I have family to go to. Yes, you don’t have anybody to go to here. But I have to do for ME!” I quietly said: “I can’t do that… put a ‘guilt trip’ on you… you’re incapable of feeling guilt.” I just left to have a cigarette out on the porch. When I came back in, I calmly walked over to the door of the room, his 2nd room that he’s used as his walk-in closet and asked, softly, so as not to appear argumentative: ” Can you tell me what your actual move-out date will be?” He tensed, glared at me and growled “I HAVE to be OUT OF HERE BEFORE DECEMBER 1st!” I thanked him for the info and said, EVER SO quietly and calmly: “You do what you have to do for you, but know that I will do EVERYthing I have to and can do fir me. No matter what that means.” and left him to finish his packing. I came up-stairs to begin searching for rent assistance/housing. Not certain what I’ll do. A 3-day week-end this week-end screws things a bit. I know I can’t swing this place alone. I keep getting calls from the place I said I’d take come Decembre, but, since my work hours have been cut, that’s no longer an option and I paid for oil and that put me where I can’t afford even the first month’s rent there any more. And I don’t know that (a) I’ll be able to stay here – since THE lease is in Silas’ name only (but I have a Lease with him and will investigate my legal options there including suing for insufficient notice, illegal notice not in writing, breach of contract, &c), (b) if the Owner will let me stay at reduced rent – which, at this moment won’t do me much good since I’ve put a pay-cheque into rent, utilities, oil already, (c) if the Owner will let me take another renter. – About 20 minutes later, I went down-stairs to run to the store… Alone. He left. I think he has to be at work here in the morning, but I don’t know that he’ll come back tonight. Frankly? I hope he doesn’t. I came to Vermont for a “Life”. If this is “Life” I prefer the “existence” I had in NYC… For all those times I bemoaned the violence, the crack-smoking, the stench, starvation, sleep deprivation, verbal abuse… tonight, I SO WISH I could simply GO BACK to that… NOW! TONIGHT! The ONLY thing stopping me?A bench warrant for my arrest. If I go back to NY, I won’t be able to get work until this court case is settled and if I did, I couldn’t afford to fly back and forth for court dates. Couldn’t afford bus or train especially since that would involve over-night lodging. Tonight, my options are extremely limited. But Monday’s weather is supposed to be pleasant… and right now I’m looking at “going HOME”. Period. But, for the immediate present moment, there are things I must do, some that I can do… I’ll distract me with those. – In complete exhaustion and exasperation, I shot an e-mail to Nanc. I intended to put it into “draft” to wait until she returned from her trip, she doesn’t need to see this shit. But in habit, I hit the “send” instead of “save”! I felt like shit!!! But I’d closed it with: “I just had to tell somebody. I hope you don’t get this until after your trip. (I’m pondering holding it for a while…) I know there’s nothing you can do to change this… but just knowing that somebody knows helps tremendously.” and indeed, it did, in its way, help to know that some-one else knows. Like the prisoners in the WWII concentration camps: Somebody must know about this… I began to Twitter, looking, searching for help… HELP! My mind wouldn’t stop long enough to focus and my own wrb-searching became over-whelming! And my “choices/options” kept narrowing to only 2: NYC or Québec (HOME… forever, never leaving again. THAT is my BEST option… PEACE, at HOME, forever.) ***** As I sat on the floor in what soon would become NOT “my room”, searching on Twitter and the Web for ANY information, I heard unusually quiet foot-steps on the stairs. Silas had returned. Time had passed and I wasn’t even aware of how much! I turned toward him, not getting up… There he stood, quite still, and, as has become the “norm”, the “usual”, the “programme”… the quiet, humble “Little Boy” (manic/depressive and Borderline little boy): “I’m sorry.” and the silence that follows. “Sorry fir what? There’s nothing to be ‘sorry’ for. Really.” I softly replied. I mean, seriously? No. There’s nothing to be ‘sorry’ for, besides, I don’t believe you are, don’t believe you can feel remourse. And I’m damned sure you’re sorry that your mommies ripped into you making it so you HAVE to come back here! But Truth? I don’t care… one way or another. So I invited him in to sit, talk. Session open:
As I am to understand…
•Silas went to landlord to break lease.
•Landlord essentially said “OK. But…”
•Silas can leave AND pay 800$/mo. until next August as per lease.
•Silas is distrsught, despondent.
•Hugz [sic] (and sick)
I offered the conventional “I know.” and “I understand.” ego-stroking and parental pampering. All of which, en passant, I am growing increasingly sick and tired of, particularly the “parental” bits! But, I continued, in a rather mechanical/therapy mode:
Your parents, all 3 of them, have managed to strip you of self-esteem. It’s unforgiveable. You have much to offer people, the world. And now, if it’s not too late, you need to learn to be kinder to you, appreciate you more, acknowledge and accept your gifts and your short-comings, work with you, and at least try to trust me, trust that I’m not ‘them’, I’m not here to destroy you. I believe you know that already. This opened what can only be described as an amazing, blatant “Therapy Session”! (And yes, I was SO consciously aware of that as I listened.) The tears flowed, the “truths” flowed, the history, California: he’d gone back to visit in February to find his old room abandoned; door closed, left exactly as he’d left it, dusty, papers strewn, packing tape on the floor, curtains closed. *** And a mention of an “heirloom” of his Grand-mother’s that he’d forgotten and left behind. I interpret that he left hurried, perhaps under duress? He followed with saying that indeed, his departure caused resentment – I wonder: “caused” or was part of why he’d had to leave? – He spoke on working at a job he hated, lived with 6 people he hated. That one of the room-mates said he was putting a jar in the kitchen into which they all would contribute… for his return. “They were telling me that I’d be back, that I’d come here and fail!” he cried. I listened. I reiterated the options open to him, that he could work WITH me on them, together. That he “can” work with me, or not, as he chooses. I recommended that he look into the options I offered and gave points of reference. A bit more crying as he sat in the chair, I sat across, on the edge of my cot. I pointed-out: ‘You say you want a family. But that means having patience, understanding, for you, your spouse, your children. You don’t have that now, what do you have to offer that family?’ And the admission of ruined relationships followed. It got later, he had an errand tonight and, his bedding was at his mommies’ so he couldn’t sleep here tonight. Session (almost) over. And at this juncture, “When I had to listen to them (mommies) reminding me that I didn’t have a job and criticising everything I did, you helped me with my résumé and cover lettres. I didn’t know how to do any of that.” Well, again, for that moment, again, I was “Friend”, better than “Mom”. For that moment.
As we walked down-stairs, we discussed rent, utilities, future, plans, matters that we needed to attend now. All was well with the World (again, and for the moment… I was aware). And I helped him put his tyres into the car… he was having the Winter tyres put on tomorrow, in Burlington. We discussed my working hours. When I said I’d probably be commuting to BTV and such, he offered: Depending on my schedules, I can help there, we can travel in one direction or the other together. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.” “I’ll leave the porch light on.” I replied. – As he drove out the drive, I immediately dreaded what would come back “tomorrow night”, after 24 hours of brow-beating from a neurotic (or psychotic) “mother” and her emotionally stilted “Significant Other” who, by the way, should know better (but obviously doesn’t) having dealt with the psychoses of the “mother” for almost, as I’m to understand, 23 years. They actually destroy the peace on this house I share with Silas. Granted, they react and respond to what they hear from him when he acts out his frustrations. And I’ve no doubt that I’m presented as all the negatives he’s thrown at me. I’ve no doubt our landlord, Hillary, Heather, and a veritable entourage has heard the same vitriol. About that, I don’t care. If those people aren’t adult enough to come to me, or intelligent enough to realise what they’re dealing with in him, they’re certainly not worth the efforts of my thoughts or concerns. But, as they rip Silas’ delicate world to shreds? I, ultimately, work to give him a new world… that they, in turn, vehemently attack. As I sent to Nancy in a follow-up e-mail tonight:
“Oh NANC! NANC! OH! NANC! Did I ASK to have this child? I DEMAND to see the birth certificate, adoption papers AND the bill of sale! I swear I’m going to find a scheister lawyer and sue BOTH of those dykes! First on the grounds of my aging rectum, second on the grounds of mental anguish (MINE), third for irresponsibility, fourth on “abuse” because their neglecting THEIR child is abusive to me AND while I’m at it, I’ll plead a fifth… of fukking Jack Daniels! Meanwhile, we’re BOTH NOT Homeless… and I patiently await the next tantrum. Nanc? Honestly! I feel more and more like his “parent”! Part of me rather enjoys it. I get to mold him into… a “New Yorker”! HAH! Revenge on the World! Part of me resents having had this mess dumped on me. But, I aks [sic] you: Am I crazy? Does this all smack of “parenting”? Are YOUR kids THIS impossible? Is this what other parents go through? My daughter was/is so self-sufficient, even at the age of 5! I’m not used to this! Butwellanyway… he’s back at mommies’ tonight, will be back here tomorrow night. The plan is: WE will work TOGETHER on getting his “credit” mess together, WE will work TOGETHER to get finances together and WE will work TOGETHER to get through this shit. (That was the case as he drove off into the night. Fear not… his mommies will have it ALL dashed to bits with-in moments of his arrival there. Ah… oh JollyFukk BOTH of them! But I’m prepared.) Their biggest trouble right now is that, like a wild animal, I’ve learned their modus operendi (or how-ever the fuk it’s speldid) and the Loup is on the prowl (I don’t use that title ’cause it’s cute… It was actually given to me… by the NYC Parks Commissioner.) So, I’m domiciled, protecting MY butt (boney as it may be… I could send pic if you’d like; let me know), and … oh and nothing! Now go enjoy your Northern visit. But may I recommend: AVOID VERMONT at ALL costs! The fukkin’ place is MAD NUTS DANGEROUS!”
– The night ended with a bit of Twitter. It’s become my sanity… even to the gut-wrenching reports on Rockaway. How I wish I could be THERE! To help.
(Addendum: During the “session” I learned that Silas came to VT with exactly the same hopes and aspirations that I came here with AND we’re both, equally disgusted.)

Fri.9.Nov: 14.42 Note: Novembre, paid 1/4 rent, 100% Heating Oil, 100% Electric Bill. It totaled 146,97 over what, by mutual agreement, should have been paid out. And, having paid the electric doesn’t save me or my name or my credit… it’s not in my name. Once again, a “Bail-Out”. But this one is à la Occupy Wall Street. And the lights, WiFi, stove, water heater and boiler continue to run! It’s blown my plans and chances to move. It’s blown my hopes and need and chances of getting a MUCH needed car. But you know? I don’t see me as much longer for this world anyway. The Courts still weigh too heavily on mind and spirit. I’m tired of having to prove my-self to this state, and Silas, and whom-ever. I’m just really exhausted. And if, in some tiny yet unappreciated way it helps somebody else who’ll be stuck in life after I’ve moved-on and out of the way? Good. And if it DOES do good and somebody appreciates: Thank my Mum… it’s what she did, what she’d do, and what she would have done, if she were still here. That’s what matters. – And so, this cloudy but strangely warm(ish) day has passed in peace. Trash and recyclables are gone… thank me much. It’s the 9th of the month and rent’s still not in arrears. My “accomplishments” today? None but to pay the electric bill. So what? And now? Who really cares? – (on Sat.10.Nov:8.00) The remainder of the day went along rather quietly. The sun began to set. My anxiety level began to rise in anticipation of confrontations to come storming through the door. At about 17.00, the phone rang. Silas… crying. Talking about driving off the road, “into a granite wall”. Crying. Talk sbout commuting to Shelburne, working at Teddy Bear, the car breaking-down. (Later, I learned, this “car” issue is Gwen’s poison. SHE’S planting this anxiety into his head!) And then came the word that churned my bile: “Burden”! His mother referred to him as “their burden”! A word that, at the age of 13 or 14, my father used against me… and I’ve obviously never forgotten, almost 40 years later. A “burden”? Incredible! And, once again: When he left here to go “there”, he’d hopped into the car, I’d cheerfully called “I’ll leave the porch light on!” and off he went… and again, those miserable bitches send back a pile of broken pieces for ME to re-build, destroying ALL the self-confidence I’d built in him, ripping any optimism he had! I’m… well… If he weren’t over 30, I’d simply report them for psychological child abuse. It is, after all. Damn them! For as long as we could hold a signal, we talked. He was en route back to the house… depressed. We talked. I did what I always do, what I live every moment doing of late: encouraged, supported… it was like being on a “Suicide Hot-line” for most of the time but, ultimately, he began joking, tone lightened… and then, as is always the case in Shitsville VT, the connection vanished and I sat here, worrying that he’d slip back some-where along the road. There was nothing I could do but wait… and prepare. – I was up-stairs when I heard the door close in the kitchen. About 18.00, Silas was here. I went down to welcome him “home”. He looked exhausted, said he had a migraine, “ME graine” he joked. We joked about the French word for it. He was in better spirits than when he was on the phone. I helped him bring his bedding and such back into the house, and when done, welcomed him “home”. He began making sugar cookies. He’s getting very much into baking, and as he did, he talked about how enjoyable it is to do so. And he thanked me: Apparently, seeing me make bread inspired him, encouraged him. It’s something he’s always wanted to do but never had the courage… afraid of failure. (When he brought the loaf of bread he’d baked to his mother, she wouldn’t believe that he’d baked it.) We talked about the burden of his expenses. We talked about Don & Connie and how they staunchly refuse to let him out of the lease. He asked me: if he simply walks out, will that “fuck me over”? Yes. Essentially. At least until my court fiasco is done. He explained how it would do the same to him because he’d be bound to paying the rent every month and not living here and, in that respect, he doesn’t see why I should have to leave. Apparently it was Connie who insisted that he won’t be released from the lease. She suggested accepting bi-monthly payments totalling full rent. Oddly, Silas and I both thought the same: Reduced rent for a period of time and then increased rent there-after when finances improved. But Connie won’t hear of it and stated that he would be taken to court. Well, here we have yet another bit of proof: Vermonters are certainly NOT the compassionate, understanding people they’re rumoured to be… especially toward non-Vermonters. Then came a revelation I suspected: In his “chat” with D&C (appropriate initials as I see), Don asked about me. Silas told him that I’m current with rent and pay oil and my share (actually, I pay much more) of utilities. When asked what I owe, Silas admitted: the 1200 that has, as far as I’m concerned, deleted any relationship between PJ and I. And Silas was very quick to add: “That’s it. Really. You’ve paid everything, right up.” (It came as a relief and a knife. I’m relieved to know that he understands the accounting, that my paying 100% of the oil does apply to general expenses. But, it drove the knife of the PJ aspect deeper into my spine. To think I’d been so stupid as to believe a blank promise and be subjected to ridicule and lies on Social Media. Well, par for the whole mess. It’s done. So am I.) As we spoke, he continued cooking, we continued talking. “It was wrong of me to drop a 27-day notice on you like that. Wrong ethicly and legally. Nobody can be expected to find another place in 27 days. I’m sorry I did that. Like you say; when I’m angry I only focus on my anger. It’s gonna kill me but instead of ditching-out at the end of this month, I’m gonna give it one more month and see what happens. Hopefully by then end of Decembre, things will change for the better. So you don’t have to worry about trying to move so soon, you can focus on getting this bullshit court out of your way and I can focus on getting better work and more hours.” (OK. I see it as it is: This moment, no further. But it’s a minor relief… for this moment.) (It also gives me 21.12… HOME!!!) – The house went calm… we continued to talk (the “session” continued). He spoke of California. Topher told him to go, do what he felt he had to do. The others expected failure and harbour resentment (I’m following accounts). He spoke of the ambiguity and negativity at his mothers’. His mother refuses to understand why, in his heart, he doesn’t want to simply walk away from house and job. “You were doing this at 3!” she allegedly said. His parents couldn’t afford rent so they simply walked out. So the precedent was set: They simply walk away from adversity… even to walking away from their child. Their child now does the same. I’m fascinated, honestly, by all of what I’m learning. I’m also exhausted from it. – And so, we discussed his options concerning debts, learning how to handle this as would apply to him if he had a house with mortgage and family, using the system, breaking out of the pre-conceived notions of shame and guilt… – He brought a bowl of his home-made soup up to Hillary, I went out for smokes (and a bottle of vodka… I had a few dollars and WOW did I feel “entitled” to a drink!) – What makes all of this more difficult here is that I’ve come to actually like this run-down town. It’s empty streets, the depression of it. I’ve developed a rapport with the folks at the little market, the gas station, the town’s folk. It’s my neigjbourhood, my village, my home-of-sorts. And I’ve had only 2 months of it! Bottom line: I stupidly slipped into comfort and now it’s being shit-torn-hell-bent shredded! As I said to Silas earlier: It’s being back in the Shelter. I’m over-whelmingly BITTER! – The day ended… Silas went to Hillary for a while, returned. I washed dishes. We closed our “issues” of the past few days, he showed me some videos (“The Joker”… Batman) and he went to bed… I went to my room… for one more drink… at this point, to go to sleep.

Sat.10.Nov:12.42 Well, I woke just before 8.00 this morning, a bit under yesterday and last night but looking forward to repeating tonight. Indeed, sobriety has become dreadfully dreaded. These days, if I were a junkie, I’d certainly be strung-out on some street corner. And I acknowledge that fact with-out shame or apology. – I ventured down-stairs to return the recyc bin and get it out of the tub, just as Silas closed the back door… out to work. From then on, I kept busy, looking for the receipt for the previous oil bill. Unlike me to not have such a thing readily available. After some hours of searching and putting other bits of life together… found! Back-pack. Of course: never part with such things. (My brain is rotting away. I swear it is.) – As I sorted, a thought on how to retrieve the “1st, last, security”. It eats at me, more-so now, that the nr.1 issue between Silas and I is 1200$. Had honesty been forth-coming from PJ, today would be so different. Had I not been so stupid as to believe “promises”, today would be so different. But now, today, I have ideas. Shame, Monday is a holiday. Another comes with Thanksgiving. (Viv’s birthday comes this month… but I can’t go HOME for that! Fukking Vermont.) But Tuesday? It will be difficult, but I MUST try to get this money to Silas. I know what he’s going through. I MUST do what I can! I though about his situation with landlord. In a way, I’m rather pleased that they’re “hard-balling” him. It’s about time he learns that he can’t simply run away from ALL responsibilities. And as I sorted my papers, the realisation that I can sue him for lost wages on the day he locked me out. Yes, I’m in a position to share my own misfortune, and, if it comes to it, I will… particularly if he’s with his mothers. Meanwhile, I focus more on what I need to do. (I’m so exhausted that I’m falling asleep sitting on this chair.) – And so, I need to send a message to L.&B. to cancel my move. I hesitate, but have 14 calls from them. – 14.38 A visit from a disgruntled Silas. More trouble on the job led to more thinking: For Decembre, instead of paying the month’s rent, he says he’ll pay his half and that’s all. “I’ll just tell them that I’m not paying my room-mate’s share.” Well, OK then. Me? Court: I paid HIS electric bill in whole at 114$ plus the heating oil in whole at 179,95$ plus the 12-hour loss of income on the lock-out day at _____. At least half of the oil and electric bills are his responsibility. The day’s income is due to negligence. I need to watch ME just as he feels he needs to watch HIM. And so, we can now put it into the lap of a Judge. I offered to attend to all of this immediately on Tuesday, since Monday is a holiday. He chooses to ignore ANY effort on my part. I begin today to prepare. Shame, really. This will end negatively. But I can, in all honesty, say: not because of me but because of immaturity, impulsive behaviour, impetuousness. Hey. Too bad. Life is Learning. I’ve studied and learned. Passing on the education. – I want to vomit. – 15.13 WOW! Left-side knife-stabbing pain. Interesting. – 19.33 (Hi Mamale!) Well indeed, the evening dropped… LOW… the “mood” came back and the atmosphere darkened (even now, I have to crank the volume on the radio to hear over the bass and surround-sound next door, Hillary and Silas watching video, knowing, because I told Silas, that sound comes right through the walls… Intentional now?) and became heavy. He came directly up to my room to tell of further atrocities waged against “him” at the office. My god! He’s a walking case of paranoia, depression, Borderline disorder, and…! So? I listened. It was rather funny: I was in the midst if calcing my Court claim against him. But he didn’t know that as he sat in my chair, whining. Oh well. – Interesting to note: he asked if I’d been to the new market, I said no, but needed to go. He went down-stairs and I got dressed to go out. As I sat on the stairs I asked if he was going to market. “Probably…” and he went out. I stepped onto the back porch to wait for him. Next thing, he drives off from in front of the house… to go to the market… at rhe bottom of the hill! So, I walked down. Bumped into him in the market. He acted as if all was as it should be. He’s making my retaliation well-founded. We shopped, I, for me, he, for him. At the cashe he offered a lift back. I took it. At the house… CURRY! He got into cooking AND: leaving the freezer open, the water running in the sink, stove and timer going for no reason, dropped flour and sugar on stove and floor. Yup. And Don thinks HE keeps the place clean. Oh fukyeahsure. I came to my room to eat: chicken cold-cuts on grinder roll with horseradish… cheese after. The fridge stuff is on the window in the loo. I’ve retired to my room. Don’t want to be around the oppressive darkness that he creates. I’m dealing with MY plans. Let him stew in his own bilious nastiness tonight. “The Doctor Is Out” tonight… drop for all I care. – Oh, since he’s decided to make MY existence difficult? OK. Let’s see how “defrauding the Fed” sits with him. – Meanwhile: 12.21.12 – 20.10 I went down-stairs. In the kitchen: stove light on, his “Bao” on counter, oven on at 380, nothing in it, he’s no-where in the house. – 22.20 The oven alarm has been blaring for the better part of 45 minutes. The rumbling of some movie or something has been coming through the walls of my room as I’ve been working on a new (Tilden/Rockaway) sketch. When I went down to the kitchen to turn the damned thing off, his “buns” were in the oven, the oven wasn’t on. I turned the alarm off and came back up-stairs. It was close to 22.30 when he softly tapped on the door. Something had gone wrong with his recipe. Gee. I wonder. Oh well. So, down the stairs to his room he went, the rumble of his “pocket doors” and me? I poured my-self a drink and went back to my sketch. – Tonight I went into the packed clothes, took out my kippa, put it on whilst I worked. “Shalom Alechem” played (several times) as I worked. Not “religion” so much as the “Tradition” of “my People” gave me some comfort. I actually SANG as I sketched. (And I put my little heater to use.) I was in a “New York” state of mind suddenly: Solitary, Stoic, Determined, Defiant… Survival! I may be at the end of rope and wits, but the comfort of “Peaceful Resolution” made it all quite easy to accept. Decembre is approaching… Winter… and all will be well… MY WAY. THIS is why I FINALLY made my Life’s journey to Richford! The train brought me to the station… It’s a short walk HOME from here.

Sun.11.Nov: 1.30 Something crawled down the Eastern window from up in the attic! Hmmm… – 8.25 I woke at 7.52. Silas woke (rumble of his door) shortly after. I fixed my coffee in the loo and came back into my room. For some reason “it” struck me: Total expenses and my payments into them. By paying the oil and electric this month, plus half the rent, I’ve paid MORE than half the total expenses of the house! Additional, I’ve not cooked, meaning I’ve not used half the electric. I’ve not used the fridge, I burn a 40-watt light whilst the porch lights burn all night. I’ve noticed Silas’ habit of leaving the fridge and freezer open, the doors open (heating The North Country) with NO concern. Like-wise, leaving the hot water running in the kitchen sink (cold water as well). I’m paying, not for the water, but for the heating of house and water as well as lighting in the kitchen and the porch AND HIS (not my) hot meals (which also go to feeding Hillary). VERY WRONG! *** Revelation: SOMEbody’s GOT to go (and it SHO ain’t ME!). Meanwhile, it’s ME who’s taking on the battle to preserve a house of shelter, ME who’s trying to bring realities and control into HIS relatively useless and tantrum-controlled petty life, and, although I won’t say it to him directly… Yes, he IS a “burden” because he won’t listen, won’t take responsibility, expects to be the “Bon vivant” and “Playboy” and ride the backs if others to support all that. He whines about wear and tear on the car and the cost of gas… DRIVES 3/10ths of a mile to work. DRIVES 3/10ths of a mile to market. DRIVES 1/2mile to the Dollar store! WHAT? NO! THEN sends scathing texts, accusing ME of “shirking” MY responsibilities (something I DO believe PJ has a starring role in). Indeed, I’ve no doubt that he’s told others already, but failed to calculate MY total payments into this house. So others believe me to be the “Free-loader”. Well, indeed. This coming week will be quite interesting. He’ll be held to HIS lease with Don AND I will hold him to his lease with ME! And I will be here until such time as *I* am ready to leave. And *I* will be at a lawyer’s office come the week.. HELLO NEW YORK! You’ve been sorely missed in my Spirit! – What a difference a day makes. – From 8.45-13.11: We talked… and we talked and we talked. But today, not in the kitchen, where previous “conferences” were held. This morning, quiet foot-steps, a tap on my open door. He’s worried, concerned, and the stress if everything has worked itself deep. Silas sat on the chair, I, on the cot, and I listened. Today, it was almost amazing. He asked questions, not about “ditching” but about Statutes, options. We talked, at length, in detail, about having come to VT, what we expected, and what we’ve both found and received here. At last, he understands that, in this situation, now, we’re fighting together for survival. The worst part of the entire time was when I, shaking from my own pent-up frustration, said: Things and times get tough and the very first thing you do is run… run away… just because you can. I sit here listening to you talk of wanting a home, a house, a family… What I see, and no, you shouldn’t like hearing this because it’s disgusting, what I see is my father! A grown man with responsibilities to himself AND a house-hold, running away… to his mommie! If this was your house, you’d have a mortgage. If you couldn’t pay the mortgage and you had a wife/companion and that child you want, you’d fuck them over, walk out the door, leaving them alone, and go to your mommie! What’s worse? Because SHE did it to you already, she’d take you in! Hate me for what I’m saying but, it really is her fault. She walked away from you, you feel it’s OK to walk away from others. And because she DID “ditch-out” on you, she supports that behaviour! Meanwhile, you come to VT, try your luck with a few local broads, it doesn’t work, you run to mommie. Oh for fuck’s sake, Rachel is STILL sitting there with your 500$ camera and you don’t have the balls to get that back… and your mommies are supporting and encouraging you to NOT retrieve it, by virtue of allowing you to simply let it go! My grandmother did the same thing with her kid… my father. Took him in when he walked out on a house, wife and, at the time, 3 kids! And here I am, watching the same shit happening. If this is what you expect to do to the family you say you want, that’s just hideously evil. Right now you have trouble. You, me and hundreds and thousands of others. Same shit, different names. Some run away, some resign to it and lose, some use the options available. Some win. Some lose. The very first night I stood outside that Shelter in NY, I was dead-numb. I thought: 1.It’s not too late to go back to the tree, sit there in the cold night and die. 2.Go in. If it’s as bad as documented, leave, go back to the tree and die. 3.Go in and experience it, see and learn for as long as you can. I went in at 9:00pm and waited until 1:00am for some heavy-accented, ignorant racist Nigerian to tell me that I had “no right” to shelter! A month later I got a job! On my own! A year later, I walked out and into a place of my own. I did what I did, used my options. I didn’t just resign to anything. I went through quite a bit of Hell to get what I knew I deserved! But I didn’t just walk away! When my child needed Care, she was my responsibility. I couldn’t walk away from her! COULDN’T! I didn’t. But you refuse to listen to anybody who offers any kind of help. You choose to listen to somebody who tells you to run away and who’ll take you in, then brow-beat you and ensure that you have no self-esteem in the end! Really, you need to ask if that’s what you want. Do you WANT to be your mother, 23 years dependent on somebody ELSE for ALL your needs? And ask yourself, seriously, are you going to do that to that family you want? You came here with what? 40k$? No rent, no food, no expenses. And a year later, you’ve entertained and made enemies in 2 states. Bad choices… but educational experiences. Move on! What’s to come of this isn’t going to be pretty. But it CAN and WILL pass. – He started to talk about timing and wants. I slammed into him: You WANT, and you WANT immediately, wrapped pretty, handed to you with-out ANY effort on your part. NOTHING happens that way. You GOT a place when you arrived, GOT a vehicle and NO responsibilities with it… and where is it all now? Just a hint here: If you continue to walk away, “ditch-out”, some day you’re going to need to know what you can learn now and you’ll be completely lost… and there won’t be a mommie to go to. – My tirade was met, quietly, and today, with-out resentment. I ended by saying: Your mothers, your Hillary and God-knows-who have convinced you that I am your enemy. I’ve done everything I know to try to make you see that that’s NOT TRUE! You won’t listen to me. You WILL listen to them. And that’s EXACTLY what I’m going through with almost EVERY “Vermonter”… including the State. Deaf, dumb and blind. I’m condemned and haven’t even been given the courtesy of a chance to speak to ANYbody who’ll even HEAR my voice! YOU are doing the exact same thing: I’m wrong, I’m stupid, I’m hateful, I’m angry, I’m useless. Fine. But one thing I WILL tell you: I will NOT be out there, trying to survive in some IGLOO through the Winter whilst I wait for this fucking State to do what it’s supposed to do! I will NOT be out there, waiting to slowly freeze to death! I might die, but it won’t be silent! And I WON’T go out ALONE! So I WILL be doing WHAT-EVER it takes to ensure MY basic needs. I strongly suggest you do the same. But before and beyond ALL else, get the notion of me being your nemesis out of your head. Work together and we both succeed. Work alone or against me, somebody’s going to lose… BIG… and it sure-as-shit WON’T be ME! – “Today”, it apparently made sense. “Today” it apparently made him think. “Today” we moved through my tirades and on to other things that have needed to be brought up. Utilities that I pay half for and don’t use. I enumerated, in detail. And, today, it was staring him right in the face! All my food was right there, on my little book-shelf. And I got a bit of his history. Previously, he roomed with others; a couple took a room and did as I’m doing, stocking food. The rest of the room-mates cooked for all. The couple bothered the rest because they wouldn’t participate with the house-hold. I am the same and it’s hurtful to him. He enjoys cooking and wants me to share what he cooks, that’s why he always makes sure to give me a portion and why he brings food to Hillary. But I live as I would in the Shelter: hoarding food in my room, eating out of tins. It bothers him terribly. Always has, more-so now because it makes him feel that he’s alone. I apologised. Yes, I DO understand and explained that I’ve done so because it’s the way I’ve been made to feel since he’s been convinced that I’m out to destroy him. He apologised. Once again, we’ve both done what we, in silence, thought the other wanted with-out communicating. Later, in the kitchen, he made sure to say: This is your kitchen, your refrigerator, your stove. And the pots and pans and dishes are here for BOTH of us to use, not just me! – Then the conversation turned toward our first arrival in VT, and admittedly, he made excellent sense. We both came here, intent upon becoming part of what existed, not to change anything or anybody, to completely assimilate with no impact on the State or the people. We came here to belong and be accepted. As we both agreed: we crawled into VT. But what makes it terrorisingly night-marish is, as he put it about me: “You Compromised yourself ! You survived being in a Homeless shelter, pulled yourself out of it, got a job and left all on your own with-out giving-up your own dignity or your-self! But you came HERE with-out YOU! You stopped wearing your yarmulke, you stopped being a Jew, you gave-up all your traditions and who you’ve been all your life, for these people who’ve done nothing, as far as I’ve seen, beaten you with everything they have!” We both agreed: we “crawled” into VT. He told me, when he started working at the PO, and people complained, how he took it to heart. His boss, a Vermonter, told him not to be so sensitive. “They can smell blood.” was the expression he used. Indeed, it’s as if they know we’re being humble and they attack! HE feels it and I’M getting brutally attacked. – He agreed that his mothers’ constant negativity wears him down. But today he was so receptive to optimistic ideas. It did my heart good. The change in him is so visible when his mood changes. There’s something rather child-like about him and a “parental” instinct in me rejoices when I see it! Yes, it’s really not my responsibility, but as I said to him earlier: I’m approaching 60, with my time dwindling; he’s just past 30 with more time… I don’t give a fuk, life will beat me for just a while longer; if I can, I’ll do what it takes to make HIS time easier (un-do his parents’ bull-shit… before it’s just too late). Ethical responsibility. – He went down-stairs… to cook. He was in a positive mind-set. It was a pleasure! – As the evening progressed he went to Hillary’s for a while. Round 18.00, a text: Do I feel like having steak for dinner? We went to the market, together. We bought steak! Splurge! Back at the house… STEAK! My old teeth weren’t too pleased with chewing it but my taste-buds danced with delight! We ate, together, standing in the kitchen, talking. – Tonight, again, he talked of being here through Decembre… having much to do, possibilities, optimism. He even mentioned July! That’s tonight. Tomorrow night his mothers will have at him. But tonight… he has courage. Tonight. It was good. He has strength. Tonight. – I came up to my room as he went to his. Moments later he came by to ask about bankruptcy! I told him that there are other options. He was receptive! Relieved! – By about 22.00 it was time to wind the day down. He was exhausted, I was beyond that. He wanted to talk, about things. He didn’t want to be alone and kept me by talking. But he has a long day ahead tomorrow. I said I needed sleep and he needed sleep. I told him “Leave today alone. Sleep well tonight. Be well rested. Tomorrow we can handle more exciting shit!” He chuckled. I came up to my room, a bit of Twit… 00.24 Lights out. The day… gone. But I gave Silas the ability to smile. Ok.

Mon.12.Nov: 15.43: I woke, well, gave up trying to sleep, at about 7.45 after a restless night. I was up and down all through. I’m mentally exhausted. Hurt. Angry. Annoyed. I fight to keep stasis. Fight. I didn’t come here to fight… not for Peace IN the house. But, I will NOT leave here defeated. I will NOT! – At about 8.20 Silas woke. We met in the kitchen. He started this day with laughter! Joking and laughing! Kriste! It was refreshing. We chatted, joked, laughed. He began cooking yet, another recipe he’s found on-line. During the day, he showed me more of S.F. via google; his house, school, streets. He did so yesterday too. Nostalgia. I understand… quite well. Neither of us is in a position to simply “pop back”. This nasty-ass State has seen to that. But most important: he began the day with laughter. – As the day progressed, a very warm day today, he got clothes together. He has work tonight, in Shelburne, will spend the night by his moms’. That weighs heavily on my mind, soul and body. It’s taken SO much to re-build his confidence. I DREAD the devastation those 2 morons will mete out! In fact, in spite of my keeping a positive façade all day, Silas commented: “What’s wrong? You just seem lethargic.” No. Just REALLY frightened about what shattered pieces those malcontents will send back… defeated. – I watched him pack what he’ll need tonight. I watched him HANG clothes again! Clothes that had been shoved into boxes. But, no matter what, my gut stays in constant “vomit mode”, ever-ready. No matter what I do, no matter how much confidence I instill in him, I wait for the reversal. My god! Those 2 are destructive! – 14.20 Silas left. I hugged him saying “Don’t let anybody get you down.” abd I told him of my fears when he goes there. He replied “It’s hard when everybody sets you up to fail.” It kills me! I went through that all through my child-hood. It took years of conscious effort to strip it out! I said to him, “It’s amazing how we’re so ready to easily accept those comments about our failures. But we just won’t accept ‘You’re brilliant!’ You just keep in mind that, when you get back, you’ll be supported.” Now, I can only hope. – The house went eerily silent when he left. Just ominously silent. Out-side it was warm, windy. In-side it was chilly, empty, quiet. – HISC called! Checking my availability and to say Hélén died on Friday. Ah… sweet-heart. Her suffering is over. Peace. She’ll be in my heart and mind forever now. She is at Peace. – Soon, me too. – 16.11 The sky is gone grey. Dark. The “day” is done. Tonight again, I’m alone here. Poor Silas! I’ve pangs of guilt. I thought I was doing him a favour by giving him this house to him-self. It was torture to him. How wrong I was! – Tomorrow… so much to accomplish. He’ll be back to work. I’ll need to hit agencies to hold this place through Winter. And I’ll have to deal with the shit his parents are, no doubt, dumping on him even as I sit here. (My chest tightens as if steel bands are being tightened round it. My arms ache. Fingers tingle. I want to vomit!) -But tonight will be tonight. Tomorrow… will be what I make of it. – 17.49 Dishes done. Stove and counters done. The kitchen floor needs mopping. I’m in no mood. – As I cleaned, Hillary came by. She didn’t know about Silas’ work tonight. I’m “intrigued”. I wonder: work or re-location? I wonder. She came to invite him to see the 6 new kittens, born today. I was not extended an invitation. However, I asked if she’d eaten (I’m to understand she often drinks tea, having no food … and she’s one of those opposed to Food Stamps). She said she was cooking… lasagna. I told her “We might scrap to find cash, but 99% of the time we have food.” My offer. She sweetly thanked me and left. I’m just noting. I’ve wanted to talk with her. The world arranged. – I’d also like to talk with Don. I wonder if the world will oblige. – It’s dark. Out-side it’s warm. In-side it’s chilled. Thermostat at 65F. Just over 1/4 tank of oil. I’m alone in the house. I can adjust to the chill. I’m rather glad to be alone. Less electric, water, heating oil will be used. Lessons dear Silas still has to learn. Meanwhile, I’m quite fatigued. So much on my mind. – 23.17 Quite tired, hungry too. Anxious. Twitter helps console. It did in the Shelter days as well. – Showered this evening. God it feels good to be clean! I had to get clean sweats for sleep which meant going into a duffle bag, packed to leave on a moment’s notice. I look about me, in this room: much empty space where a “home” used to be. I got ONE month of a “home” out of the 3 I’ve been here. I’m really and truly tired of this. I left the Shelter just over a year ago, but, save one month, I’ve never actually not lived in the/a Shelter. Boxes, bags, food eaten cold from tins stored on a book-shelf. I’m truly tired of this. Just looking forward to 12.21.12. Today would have been perfect. It was the original plan. I’m disgustingly and disappointingly stupid. But, at least it’s really on my terms. So? I suppose that’s OK. – The heat kicked-up a moment ago. The temperatures are supposed to plummet tonight. The wind is beating against the windows. I’m not turning the thermostat up. I’ll use my little heater, save the oil. REAL COLD is coming. Besides, I can acclimate now. – I dread tomorrow. Mostly because of having to drive that car… bald tyres. Then trying to find actual help out of this situation, expecting the usual “Nope. Sorry.” bull-shit. Probably having to drive 120miles or more. And then wondering what “mess” I’ll have to clean-up after Silas’ mothers have had at him. And in the back-ground, the choir sings “they all think you’re a worthless piece of irresponsible shit”. Yup. A Homeless, worthless piece of shit. Oh well. – Time to violate the lease one more time: last smoke before lights out… IN the room! Then home with all that I’ll fall (and stay) asleep soon. – This day passed quickly.

Tue.13.Nov: 8.21 Rain this morning. Temperature of 7. I’ve put the thermostat down to 60F for the day. – In the absence of a real computer (I don’t understand why, now, I’m no longer allowed to use the lap-top, when research is imperative), I’ve decided to head into the library with hopes of being able to while-away substantial time, digging into every possibility of finding the funds to get this place back on track. I don’t have the means (by any stretch of imagination) to go traipsing about the state in searches for “possible”. It would be better to just sit tight and work from here. But since that’s not a real option… If nothing else, it’ll get me out and away. – Right now, at this moment, as when my eyes first opened this morning, just before 8.00, my entire body feels as if it wants to vomit, not just the contents of my stomach, but the air in my lungs… right down to the contents of each cell. Why? In my logic I know that this situation isn’t new to me. I know that there is potential and there are possibilities. It’s “probabilities” that are almost completely in-certain. Add that, in NYC, I am “familiar” with “the system”, know where and how to begin, have a degree of knowing what to expect. Here, it’s ALL un-familiar, and, let’s face it, for a year, it’s been hostile. Yes, “hostile”. THAT, I am NOT familiar with! Oddly, even the curt, aggressive and oft-times condescending tones of NYC seem more benign and friendly today. And I have to add: today, this morning, to me, it feels as if even Silas works against me in his own manner. This morning I ask myself if I’m working toward saving this shelter for me whilst HE works toward his blind-set goal of simply walking away? In my logic I DO understand that, in legal venue, I could, “legally” remain here, quite possibly, through Decembre and not have to think about being tossed into the snow until January, at the earliest. But that’s “legally”. Here, in this State of disrespect, disregard and chaotic minds, “legally” appears to be nothing more than “what I can pull with-out being caught and then, how cow-dumb I can appear IF I DO get caught”. Add: I’m being persecuted for a perceived ‘crime’ WAY BEFORE the facts have been presented! I have “absolutely NO faith or trust” in the “legal” system in this entire State… NONE. In NY, I had “doubts” which allowed some degree of open curiosity, potentiality, possibility. Here, admittedly, I don’t even have any of that. Here, my “all” is… ZERO. Even as I sit here, on the floor beside an open window, fan pulling cigarette smoke (and heat) out of this room, having a morning tap-water coffee, I can’t stop the over-whelming idea that I’m actually working against absolutely EVERY living creature and being around me… including Silas The Defeatist. (In fairness, I have to add that I suspect that his stay in S.BTV has reinforced his defeatist mentality and that he’ll be back to walk in, silently, to pack more of his belongings, prepared to run.) – 9.07 Thoughts fire round in my head like sparks fro a bonfire: Repeatedly, Silas has said “I have to do what’s best for ME!” (In his mind, that means: “ditch-out”.) Meanwhile, I do what’s best for US… me AND him. THERE is THE point, the crux of ALL! He WON’T see ANYthing or ANYbody EXCEPT HIM in ALL of this. Sadly, his perspective isn’t even his; it’s the perspective of a mother who, by his own accounts, hasn’t worked for or toward anything in about 23 years, has the security of being kept by a woman some years younger than she, has little-to-no grasp on any reality, save that which she’s constructed in her own mind as she sits comfortably and confidently in a place that an equally mentally isolated other provides for her. Again, even by Silas’s account, Gwen locks her-self away from the out-side world, even though she daily goes to a job… a well-paying job. By Silas’ account, his mother provided all fir Gwen when she went through school to learn her craft. (And, as I see it, now his mother feels justified in taking and contributing little-to-nothing.) – Well, time is passing. 9.20. I’m still quite suspicious that Hillary didn’t know of Silas’ work last night. I do suspect that it’s a front, a ruse, and is to distract me from a possible fact that, in fact, come the 30th of this month, I’ll be watching the sun set on a mostly empty house, alone, to face what follows. – I suppose I’m compelled to repeat, for my own peace of mind: last month’s rent is covered (Dec.) thus (legally), a demand for rent can be presented at the end of Nov. but any (legal) action will have to wait until Jan. It is a month and a half: 46 days. Indeed, time is rather in my favour. It’s all a matter of “NO confidence” on my part: The “assistance” services, Don and Connie’s level of intelligence and respect for law and humanity, the Judiciary’s respect for law and humanity and Silas’ respect for humanity. There we have it. – Time to get together, freshen-up, HOPE the car runs AND that, again today, I make my trip from here to where I need to be AND BACK! – Goodmorning Vermont-Nam! –

Wed.14.Nov: 7.39 The temperature out-side is -4 and in my room, 17. To the East, the trees are coated in HARD FROST! It really is quite beautiful. But this morning, instead of enjoying it, it wrenches my gut. The heat is coming up, and the oil is going down! This morning it’s about bring able to afford oil, rent, the car starting. And it’s about the HORRID chest pain that woke me during the night. Paralysing pain! I just remember waking, moaning, not being able to turn my head. Wondering what time it was and thinking: “No, not here, it can’t happen here.” I laid there, waiting… for what, I wasn’t sure. Then the thought, “Well, close enough. Besides, who cares? It’ll all be over at last.” And at some point, drifting back to sleep. – A DREAM: A very nice flat, contemporary architecture. Clean. 2 women, one looked a bit like “Debbie” from Rockaway, the other, rather thin, pale, both blonde. Both were in HealthCare. I was visiting with them, but I was uncomfortable being there. I mentioned heating “the house” and the elder (Debbie) became aggressive, “Oh! You have a HOUSE! Excuse me. HOW can YOU, on YOUR income, afford a HOUSE?” I, and the younger girl began explaining that “house” was merely a term of reference and I meant “like this, like you have, rooms, a rental”. D. wasn’t consoled but the younger one changed the subject. “How are your finger-nails? Are they clean?” I noticed that no, they were rather long and had dirt under. “Well, as clean as possible right now. I need to make time to get to them.” “Well,” she continued, “They’ll clean them if you don’t. They’ll take your hand and clean your nails for you. They don’t put up with that there.” I replied, “That’d piss me off. Taking my hand to clean my nails…” We were talking about me, going into a shelter. It hadn’t been said, but it was understood. End of dream as I recall. Shortly after, I woke. – I’m anxious this morning, and torn. The house isn’t cold, the thermostat set at 68F. But the oil… the rent… my income… Silas’ mood when he comes in. Wednesday. Mid-Novembre. I know that the earliest anything can be done legally is at end of month, Décembre as far as being tossed from here. I KNOW this. But, in the interim, what of the heat? I can’t afford even another 50 gallons of oil and it’s going to be NECESSARY and SOON at this rate. (30 minute intervals between the boiler kicking up this morning. I DREAD going to look at the tank!) Meanwhile, Silas is with his “family”, he has them. I feel better-off if he’s not here because he’ll go “blind-anxious”, panic, angry, irrational. The cold, no Food Stamps, not enough hours at work, working out in the cold… I don’t need that. (But, it won’t be so different from some of the guys back in the Shelter who went into rages over food, CaseWorkers and the likes… I suppose.) And I keep thinking about, though I know I shouldn’t, of the 5 rejections from the PO due to this Court case and that applying for another job is almost futile until it’s done. (Yes, at the end of this one, it’s ammo for MY turn. But that doesn’t make it easier right now. I NEED a real lawyer! NOW!) It’s holiday season and retail won’t risk “me”. – It’s another day of being “Trapped”, “Cornered” and “Terrorised”. And absolutely NOBODY NOBODY NOBODY in ALL Creation knows, understands, wants to understand or wants to help in ANY way. Wow… I’m in a very huge, empty desolation. Just me… and not even the comfort of a glimmer of hope (lower case “h”… I don’t go near an upper case today). I have that “EAP”… but I don’t have a phone that will provide enough service. – Oh, it’s 8.23 already. The day is about to SLAM into “Open”. People in Rockaway are in in-heated tents! And I’m whining. Damn me! – 8.37 A Memo. To me: I HAVE resources. I DO. Not guaranteed, but more than “nothing”. But to GET TO them, I need phone service. And to get that, I need to travel… 10 miles away! So? DRIVE! Yes, get me together and DRIVE! Indeed. You keep chastising Silas for his Defeatist attitude and yet, here you sit.. guilty (how I DESPISE that word these days) of the VERY thing! You’re failing because you’re not even TRYING! If not for the sake of accomplishing anything, but for the sake of TRYING, at the VERY LEAST! – 20.08 waiting for a small wash to finish and researching, to my amazement, the services that I’ve grown to take for granted that don’t exist here! For a state that claims to love and protect its people… they’re totally unrealistic. But! The temperature has gone from negative to… a “positive” ONE degree! Heat-wave! – 18.26 Well, it was a productive day… in the house. I contacted several referrals to social svces to help (I’m hoping) with the recent “Economic Crisis”. I found a spot in the house where, bless me, I got PHONE! All of them, how-ever, said their “specialists” will contact me… tomorrow. How considerate of them. Tomorrow. Right. – I was in the shower when Silas came in… almost elated! He’s been offered a spot locally in another office in addition to his own office! It was a joy to see him so positive! And timing was excellent because we found out that the current elec. bill is 135,00! (I have to come up with 67,50… QUICKLY! Plus the rent AND WE NEED MORE HEATING OIL at a MINIMUM of 200!) Anyway, he got distressed when the elec. co. told him that, by April, he should expect the bill to be over 200/mo! He was consoled (again) when I confirmed that that was the previous tenants’ bill… they were 4 of them. Whew! OK! – Next? His FoodStamps. He rang the office to inquire about his status. Fine, I knew they’d hammer him because of not reporting the “better income days” BUT the BITCH he spoke with actually yelled at him! So loudly, in fact, that I heard her! It all but shattered him! So, NOW I got to heal the wounds inflicted by that whorebitch! But what followed was nothing short of amazing! All I said was that, had she done that to me, I’d report her. After all, chastising isn’t her place. He JUMPED on the phone and… even though that office gave him a run-around… he DID report her, stood his ground! I was bubbling like a proud parent. He’s learning to exert him-self… in a business-like manner! Appropriately. He even admitted that, had it not been for me and my support, he’d have been devastated. I’m doing OK by him. Hopefully by next month round this time, he’ll be able to do all this on his own, with-out me. (If not, it won’t change anything. But at least the foundation is built for him.) – When he left this evening, he was stronger, feeling quite good about himself! Ah… may it last. – As for me? Now? It’s really quite cold in here. I keep the thermostat low while alone. It’s not “comfortable” in here, but I believe I handle it better… Homelessness trained me well. – Speaking if which: a Twit this morning, a link to an article concerning Homelessness. In it, a description of a young girl in NYC, her first night of Homelessness, alone, frightened, crying. IT RIPPED my heart AND soul! My own memories came rushing, into realities! Palpable! I re-lived my own experience! I re-lived Jesus on the cold Octobre streets, no jacket, crying, shivering. Oh my fukking soul wept! It was so painful! To think of another person going through that hurt, pain, confusion, un-certainty! My own tears fell… I was glad to be alone so no-one (especially Silas) saw me. It hurt me and angered me! Too many people who simply need a moment’s help don’t get it! A moment! But there are fukheads who’ll promote help to foreign countries! Can’t and WON’T help right here! And even now, as I tap this out, there are people experiencing the very same emptiness! And here, in The North Country, some-where, a Human being will get en-crusted with another frost as s/he lays, in the cold night tonight, exposed to the elements. But nobody cares. I look forward to checking-out if here, this selfish shit-hole. Not so much because of my trivialities but because I can’t take the selfishness of others. VT wants to prosecute so, whilst they wait, they persecute. People go hungry, cold, Homeless… and those who CAN help refuse. It’s just too much. – In the past 20 minutes, the heat’s come up twice! Time to put the thermostat down… to 58F… for the night. Minus 1 out there now… and the night hasn’t really begun. – 19.16 A smile in my heart: I’ve become my Oma! Glasses on, extra sweat-shirt, nightly I go down to the cellar… to check the oil tank. GOD! I remember following her to the oil tank, looking with her… me, aged maybe 7? 8? 9? And here I am, all of 50 years later… I am my Oma! Auf wiedersehen, liebe Oma! – (1.07 Thu.) A calm night once Hillary turned the volume down next door. I can’t help but wonder: retaliation? Well… – It’s been holding steady at 20 deg in the room. Tomorrow: more work on getting rent and oil. For now? Attempt some sleep. Let’s see how this night goes. – Dear World: Just to put me out here… I have plans to go HOME for that. I’ll take care if it.

Thu.15.Nov: 7.25 and -6. But dry. Not frosty. At about 7.00, Bob called. So, I’m awake… again… damn it. A painless, dreamless night, last. I guess that’s fine. – I really need to decide whether or not to keep the room “there” and I need to do so today! That, believe it or not, is my major decision of late. I’d prefer to battle for this one, ride-out the potential Hell to come. But I can’t help but wonder when the next out-burst will be. And this morning I thought, as I reluctantly got out from under the covers: Silas wanted a job in Chittenden, 3 days/week, to come here on week-ends only. He has that now. Then again, as of tomorrow, he’ll be training in Swanton. He’s aware, as he said, that the Owners will get him for the rent whether he, or we stay or not so, he, or we may as well stay. He won’t look for another to share because, according to his lease, rent increases by 200$. But then there are his repeated lines “I can’t live with you.” and “We just can’t live together.” Then again, he’s tickled with coming in to a clean house. I found stray nails about the place yesterday and hung a few cooking utensils on the kitchen wall… “That’s awesome!”, says he. It’s all so un-certain… Like the Shelter… There, one never knew. Every evening I’d return from work, check the bed and locker for “You are transferred…” Here? Every time he comes in, goes out, sends a text… same thing. But, it’s now 2 weeks with-out work. I won’t get a cheque on the 21st. I don’t have the money to move since paying the oil and lights. Reality? Trapped… again. Well, today the calls and advice will come. I’m not expecting “help”… just advice. General repetitions of what I know and what I don’t need to hear. But… Once that’s done, I’ll have no choice. “Choice”
would be IF I get the 12 I need… 4 months at the other place (Dec-Mar) or… a bit of in-steady peace right here. I suppose I’ve no choice but to… wait. – Meanwhile, today will be getting out of here and to the library… job-search, print application and try for another job. And try to figure how and if it’s economically feasible to work in Shelburne. I’ll HAVE to walk every morning, about a mile, more or less. and hope they’ll stick to my availability. I’ll HAVE to get up at 4.00 every work-day, pay 10,50 every day just for transport for a 9$/hr job. Well… it’s 7.54… there’s a bit of time… Coffee time. – 2 hooded sweat-shirts and it’s not too uncomfortable up here in the room. Chilly (thermo set at 60F I believe) down-stairs. Silas won’t survive that. Ah… let’s leave such thoughts for their own time. – 12.21.12 – Odd, but true: The poor guy DID, apologetically, bring the heat up to 66F. But… not even 70. Impressive. –
***NOTE: I happened to see him take his meds at one point and, curiosity got to me (self-interest). I looked to see what he’s “supposed” to be taking. LORAZAPAM! 0,5 1T QD PRN. Exp.2/13 OK! So now I understand him a bit better. We’d had a talk in recent days where I said, in good humour, the one thing I hate about him is that he doesn’t drink. He replied “Me too! I have no ‘release’ from stressors. No drinking. No ‘drugs’.” (So to speak.) It’s true, that. But, as I say: Now I understand.***
– And so, at round 11.30Silas came in from his “rounds” and got right into cooking for then and his night shift. Laundry and the world in a whirl. It was a delight to see him with purpose and to talk with him. He truly is changed… yes, for now. But… – As we talked and he got into some computer-work (on his CV?), his mommie rang. He’d told me that he’s been getting in late at her place, going to sleep and leaving in the morning. They haven’t gotten to talk (no wonder his mood’s been OK). Ah… but she tried to get her “guilt” attack on him! Tried to shame him about FS. Silas stood his ground, argued his point… and actually got her to back off! (Just recently he admitted: His mother does NOT like me… nor does Gwen. HAH! Because I’m helping him break their noose from round his neck!) – As he spoke with mommie, I got a call… from EAP! Very understanding, supportive, helpful. Evln gave me info on a central resource! and encouraged me to be persistent. It was wonderful. I felt quite rejuvenated and encouraged. No “guarantees” but better than the nothing I began the day with. – At about 15.45 Silas and I headed out. He, to Shitbin; me, to Ensbg (library). Ah… the car actually started immediately! It’s letting me know that all’s not well and that I should expect a major coronary break-down at any moment. But, it ran! – At the library, I got my photo for the new wall sketch, e-mails, research. Learned that I’m eligible for several assistance programmes! How encouraging. Though “eligibility” does NOT imply “receipt”. Still… my work is cut-out from here. And I had about 2 hours on the computer! LUV that! – 18.30 and away! I was in “the BIG town” for the evening! To the Dollar store for windshield scraper… and a box of nails… and a “silk” poinsettia/holly (at 1$ ea). All I “needed” was the scraper, but… Next! To Hannaford’s: food! butter for Silas’ cooking, café for moé, the essential PopTarts (ah… the Homelessness) and TWO frozed pizzas (1 for me, 1 for Silas… I was HUNGRY damn it!). Wow, it felt good to be OUT! As I drove back, in the early blackness and crisp air, memories: The Catskills, a car about to die, empty road, me and… nothing and… nobody… watching for “the authorities”. It was SO “familiar”.., the rare “good, fun times of child-hood. Again, tonight, I was a “renegade” in the night. Aunt Sis, Dorothy, the open road, the blackness of the night, the crisp air… I escaped into those moments and away from that moment. It was just “fun”! I was alive again… for the moments I had! And I didn’t care. (I don’t anymore. I drive along, with calculated “care”, ready for the wheels to pop off the car at any moment, sending me careening, tumbling, flipping, rolling, off into a gully, ditch, ravine, corn field or… into an on-coming truck. And I don’t care. My only 2 concerns: Quick death/no suffering and not involving anyone else. I don’t care, and it’s just MAGNIFICENTLY light, DELIGHTFUL, a RELIEF! No longer looking beyond a specific point in time, not concerned with the “long-term”, converting “infinite” to “finite”, taking control over what was non-specific… it’s AMAZING! I can only compare it to that brief time of Zoloft and Xanax: I’m LIVING! I’m BREATHING! I just don’t CARE and it’s STUPENDOUS! – The elation carried into the house. A pizza went into the oven, the music came to the kitchen. I washed, cleaned, hung pots and pans where they’d be decorative yet accessible to Silas and I ate… a WHOLE PIZZA! It was… just all to simply? WOW!!!!! I DON’T CARE! (I’ll do what I should, what I can… It won’t be forever, but I WILL be “responsible”. Of course I will.) – Fed, work done, I came up to “my” room, accomplished… poured a light drink, settled in and corresponded on Twtr. NANC popped by for a while! Funny, this, but it’s like dropping in for a beer at the local bar and suddenly meeting a Good Friend there. Seeing her “handle”, as it were, topped my elation of the evening! And so, relaxed tonight, I… enjoyed.

Fri.16.Nov 0.28 Silas home.- 7.31 Minus5, garbage and recyc out. Silas in shower, and me? Oh just never mind me. Out-side, it’s another frosty morn, clear skies, and the stanque of somebody’s pellet stove fills the air… I mean FILLS the air! Smoke! You’d think this was the Burning of Richford, fer Krise sake! I mean, yes, the scent of burning wood on a COLD morning is delightfully comforting; THIS, how-ever, catches in the throat and coats the lungs. And as I stood at the foot of the back porch steps, looking across town (“across town”… distance from closet to potty?) as the morning sun rose o’er the Eastern hill, casting a glisten and glow on the frosted trees on the Western hill I thought to me: Here, in The North Country, at last… I DO so Love it here; and Winter just there; the frost will soon be snow, and it’ll be so beautiful! I’ve waited almost 30 years for this morning… just a few more weeks. – When I came in from putting out the trash and such I thought: about a year ago, Silas LB was a young man in a completely alien land, with no direction and precious kittle self-esteem. This morning, he’s off to work at a job he loves (that he’s admitted he wouldn’t have had I not helped and encouraged him), in a town and house that he’s come to love (again) (that he’s admitted he wouldn’t have come to had I not helped him with the job and agreed to come here with him). He’s learning to stand, realisticly, for his rights and entitlements (and the difference between the two). Still a little rough on the edges: there’s garbage in tge garage from since we arrived in late August, he can’t budget for shit, he’ll whine about impending water bills and run the shower before getting in and open a tap and walk away, and he won’t clean after he cooks, BUT the thermostat was at 66F last night to conserve oil and he’s working 2 jobs to compensate for my lack of work, he’s come to understand how it’s unfair but some-what balanced that my hours were many then and his are many now, that I covered then and he’ll cover now. There’s more, but… The point is: He might not be quite “There” yet but, he’s quite close enough to run on his own toward where he should be… with-out me. I’ve done rather well. He’ll be fine. I’ve done OK. I’m rather happy with that. I can… go HOME. – A thought for this lovely morning: I’ve learned that when a NYer says “Fuck you” to another NYer, we have a way of understanding each-other, we’re not intimidated by it. We take it and move on. It’s not so out-side NY. Here, we must temper our words, tone and volume, lest we destroy the other person. Yes, we are a breed unto our-selves. We truly are resilient, strong and stoic… and grossly mis-understood out-side “our natural habitat”. But that’s not our “fault”, it us as it is, we need not be apologetic, and… it is (to a NYer) rather amusing. Fukkem. Really. And having come here, to the truly back-assed, butt-headed, state of selfish liars, I’ve grown to Love and admire “my people”, my Home-State and all that we “Noo Yawkuz” are. In NY, we might be resentful and suspicious of others, but we don’t invest energy in making their lives miserable. Here, in Vermont, the majority of those I’ve come to know are intentionally nasty, hurtful, and WILL invest time and energy in making certain that you know they harbour hate. Ah… education, experience. Oh, and they don’t target only NYers… les Québécoises receive equal honours… and NewHampshire gets a bit of it too, though not to the extent of the former. And again I say: FUKKEM! – OH! This morning Silas stood in the kitchen and said “I really like what you did in here.” (pans on wall, clean and organise). It’s giving him a sense of “home”. Good for you Silas. It’s about time! As things are now and if Heaven possesses any Grace and Mercy, just as it was in 5W-101 NY M050… soon you’ll have “Seniority” when you share it all with the “new guy”. (Wow! The “Homelessness” and “Shelter” REALLY ARE THAT DEEP in me. Not only do I make the reference but I actually FEEL it… in my core. I “live” in constant flux, ready to bolt at any moment, never touching ground. True, that; boxes packed and stacked, toiletries in bags, daily clothes in duffle… and constantly thinking of “Next one to take ‘Dorm Seniority’.” – 8.37 Thermostat back to 62F. Whilst I wait for some phone call (that probably won’t come) and the time to leave for the library, where I’ll do my forms and applications for aid and assistance (that will probably be denied)… I’ll work on my “Rockaway-Tilden” sketch… in today’s sun-light… and remember. – Silas won’t be back until tomorrow some time. Richford in the morning, St.Albans in the after-noon, Shelburne tonight. Hopefully there won’t be “fall-out” from “burn-out”. But? WTF? – 10.40 No calls. Still minus2 and brilliantly sunny. And wow, I’ve been to the loo 3 times this morning! I ate last night and my body is dumping the food as quickly as it can. (Hinting?) – I happened across an odd piece of info: 12.21.12 is that last day on the Mayan calendar. Interesting and… co-incidental? Funny. – 16.04 Just “napped” for an hour. Planned on only 30mins but was cold and tired when the alarm sounded so I drifted back into sleep.
•DREAM(s):
I was upstairs sleeping. I heard the back screen-door close. Feeling guilty about being asleep during the day, I stood, leaned my head forward, shook my head to appear awake but had difficulty opening my eyes and coming out of sleep. “What’s going on?” Silas asked casually. I replied “I’m just trying to focus…” (I was about to say: “from looking so long at the sketch.” to try making it appear that I’d been drawing.)
Woke, still asleep and in dream.
I was upstairs, looking at the sketch, becoming anxious about being alone in the house. Suddenly I had a horrible anxiety attack! I went to walk down-stairs and as I got half-way to the first landing, the walls closed into a progressively tightening funnel, trapping me! Clusterphobia grabbed my chest and I said “Oh fuck this!” wand turned to walk back up to the room to use another way out. There was none and I knew it, but I thought of climbing out the bath-room window to “ESCAPE!!!”
Woke, still asleep and in dream.
Went to cellar to find something. Had the roll of art paper with. Thought that I should have brought something else with me and started back up as Silas came in back door. Felt I HAD to cover being in cellar!
(Break into actually being half awake) Gripping anxiety! The conscious awareness of an anxiety attack! “I’m asleep! I NEED to wake up and get out of these looping dreams! I HAVE to WAKE UP NOW BEFORE THE NEXT ONE HITS!” And I fought to wake up.•
THAT was disgusting! –
NEEDING to get OUT and AWAY from this gripping anxiety, I decided to head to the Dollar store… Enosburg. I’d get “stuff” to make this place appear more like a place where “people” “live”: silk greeneries, table coverings, and such. It would get me out and give me purpose! I showered, dressed and… sat… in the chair. Spending money I don’t have to make this house, that has been and doubtless will again be taken from me? No. Nope. I resigned to walk to the banque, get cash, get smokes. Period. So, out the door and into the street (the one). Got the cash and because it was delightful being out, strolled to the local dollar gen, mostly to browse… and browse is all I did! That store is FULL… of nothing. So, miraculously, I left with all the cash I’d walked in with! Proudly. – Strolled over to Mayhews for the afore-mentioned smokes and a bit of chit-chat… I heard my voice for the first time in a while. And then, back up “the hill” and into… the house. – Hunger! And the kitchen for ME! HOT FOOD to be had for a change! Potatoes and onions on the counter (which, as per Silas-The-Purchaser, will be tossed in due course) and an open bag of frozen green beans in the freeze. Food! A “base” for… something. I brought the iPod, cranked-up the volume and I cooked AND DANCED! Alone in the whole house, I DANCED in the huge kitchen as the veggies simmered. It was delightful, rejuvenating, refreshing! And therapeutic! I cooked, danced, sang… ATE! HOT, COOKED FOOD! Cleared dishes, cleaned and returned to my room to twitter until 1.55 with the house as “mine alone! Anxieties gone. All was good again. And I was enjoying it now. Tomorrow comes the “Dread”. I hate not knowing what will walk in through that door. I always expect more devastation so… come what may… tonight I enjoy Peace!

Sat.17.Nov: 11.34 Finally got to a forced sleep at about 4.00 and slept(?) un-refreshingly, through the night. When I “woke” at about 10.00, the skies, clear, the house, warm and peaceful. I was still alone. As has become my routine, went down-stairs to open the bkinds, let the day-light in. It changes the whole atmosphere of the house: Homey, bright, alive. – The cot I’ve been sleeping on for almost a year (almost 3 months here, plus Shelburne) is beginning to sag and rock.. I folded it for a bit which showed how un-even the fleece I’ve been using as a floor-cover truly is. I taped it flatter and re-assembled the cot. Looking good, but still, I can never shake the instability and transient oppression, knowing, in my gut, that there is to come, yet another tirade and tantrum of “I can’t afford this! I’m ditching-out. You’ll have to do what you can.” Accused of “still living in the Shelter” and never seeing… YOU are at the very core of it! – And then… this old house returned to it’s state of “normal”. At about 11.00 I heard foot-steps in the living-room, so, as protocol and décorum would have, I went down to greet. Silas, on his route, reading his mail… ignoring my greeting. “Now they’re cancelling my health care.” “I’m really having a shitty day.” (I pointed-out the last few good days but…) He’d gotten stopped en route back this morning: Driving 85 in a 65, driving in the left lane, pulling off the Interstate to the left. The police read him the fines: 200 for the 1st, 285(or…) on the 2nd and 150 on the last. BUT!!! Once again, Silas pulls his employment and goes away free. (Meanwhile, I get slammed with a ticket paid at 99$ and have to go to Court to get freed from a 156$. I am disgusted.) Next on the list: a notice that his auto insurance is cancelled and going into Collections. Due on the 10th and, just like the electric bill, he (claims that he) sent payment in ON the 10th! – This wears me, tires me, disgusts and sickens me. A few rather glorious days of being in Peace (and an anxiety attack, granted). And THIS! The TOTAL sense of COMPLETE ENTITLEMENT! The ABSOLUTE REFUSAL to take ANY responsibility for ANYTHING! WHAT… no… his mommie hasn’t worked in years, claiming all sorts of ailments and such, riding along on Gwen’s back (who enables her to do so). And then, fills Silas’ head with defeatist bull-shit, encouraging him to fail and yet, reminds him that he’ll be a “burden” should he return to them. So, I keep thinking of the words of the rep at FoodStamps: “SILAS! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Indeed, Madame; my words, exactly! Well, I KNEW this was just lurking, just “there”, bound to happen. When he threatened me with photos of the car and notifications to authorities, I thought of retaliation… but I did nothing. Again… Life and the World take my burden and addresse it. I AM a freakin’ Monk! – 12.16 The phone rings: “I’m sorry to just blow you off like that.” Jeezus! Mark! It truly is. I can’t help but think: it’s a little “me” too… rebellious, defiant, entitled. I remember Oma saying “No matter what you do, you’re always right.” If course, I was all of 16 at the time… half Silas’ age. Well, my “life” shoved the years up my rectum and into my eye-balls. That doesn’t make me “right” nor him “wrong”. (But I stick to my belief: His mother should be put away. Especially since she misses no opportunity to denigrate me to Silas. Well… yet another thing I’ll leave to the World. I’m actually too busy with my own sordid affairs and SHE/THEY just don’t seem to appear on my “Guest List”. NEXT!) I clean-up the “mess” ONLY to make MY time easier. True, that. Of course, along the way, dear Silas-The-Lost benefits so… I’ve done well. I can truly “RIP” when the moment arrives. HOME. Soon. – (12.03 Text: “Sorry if I was sn asshole. I’m just pissed and fed up.”) – 12.39 It just really hit me: Since I arrived in VT, I’ve not listened to more than a brief, fleeting moment of radio in English! Over a year and NO ENGLISH! How amazing! ALL of my “alone” time (and there’s been a LOT of that) is FRENCH! FRENCH! Imagine THAT! Hooduh thunk it? – At about 16.30 the phone rang. I didn’t even bother to look figuring it was Silas with another “I’ve been thinking… I’m out.” or something of that genre. I wanted to shower and so, went to prep. Stopping at the phone: voice mail. Silas. OK. WTF? I took it… CAR ACCIDENT! I called him, left a msg. I sent a text. I wondered: Moose? Tractor Trailer? He rang. Some idiot broad in a vehicle with heavy tinted windows backed into his door! He’s fine. Whew! She had no license, reg., ins., &c. But he merely took a photo and her particulars! Said the damage isn’t all that bad (“I can roll my window all the way down.”) and that he could have called the police but didn’t want her to be screwed. Imagine? (Well, he did say the same about me, still apologises for so much we went through. He has “moments”.) Anyway… he’s OK and is coming to the house tonight (I’m bracing). – And… I’m showered. – 17.24 I think Hillary’s returned… THUMPTHUMP through the wall. Stupid cow. – 20.08 (The thumping was Hillary’s cats. Home alone again.) And just got the message: Home alone tonight. And… ANXIETY attacks. I’m not sure why. But in my gut I feel Silas will be strolling in at the end of this month, truck in the drive, pack, say precious little and will be gone. SO… on Monday, I’ll get out there to go for what I can get to keep comfy, solo, at least until the bloodyfukking Courts are done mucking my life … or the 21.12. which-ever I find I can tolerate. I just can’t go on like this. And I won’t. Nobody can say I didn’t give my “All”. – I’ve been working on the Tilden sketch this evening. Not bad. Not great but not too bad… yet. And I should eat… or go dance in the kitchen. Or… – 24.19 Finishing another night on Twitter. Have been blocked by Occupy out of New Hampshire and followed by Amsterdam. I’m more understanding of my Oma’s terrible dislike for this country. It is, even as Viv noted, nothing more than violence, xenophobia and intense hate. I’ve returned to wearing my kippa of late, as I did proudly in NY. Silas was very en pointe and more right when he said I’ve compromised my “self”, my “being”. I won’t do that again. But I am rather uneasy and a touch fearful: I’ve never, in ALL my breathing moments ever been so aware of the distilled HATE this country has and is encouraged to act-out on when it comes to Jews. Well, they’ll do me a favour by killing me off, I want no part of it. I hope only to die at HOME… and I’m planning on seeing to it that that happens. – Meanwhile, in spite if being so damned exhausted all day, the night comes and I’m more anxious than tired. Insomnia. The Courts, this house, the heavy frost again tonight, the heating oil, and looking forward and into being Homeless again. Just tonight, again, I had to rummage through packed boxes for something. Boxes. My world, what little I have of it here… packed… in boxes… prepared to bolt… into… nothing. And at the core? The State of Vermont, a prosecutor who’s too busy to view my case. Meanwhile, I’m rejected by employers and denied access to Québec! I’m getting no hours at work. 2 weeks now. A month with no income. And no chance of further employment. But to be denied visits to Québec? One day, soon, they’ll find my rotted remains, leaching into the very soil of HOME. I will be at Peace though. – And the house is clean, quiet, empty, mine tonight. All is calm.

Sun.18.Nov: 7.48 Yes, awake. Yes, awake because, in my sleep, anxiety. Some sort of dream about being trapped in a large clothes washing machine. Vomiting on myself and telling myself to just sleep, then realising it’s air-tight and… waking. – Yes, I’m awake and it’s the bloody 18th! I just must remember:
**************************
FIRST, LAST, SECURITY: PAID
**************************
I, alone, could bring this through January. I must remember. – Now, on to the anxieties of heating, lights and car. (Yes, I’m becoming Oma every day:
“Oma, you look so worried. What’s wrong?”
“I’ve forgotten something. I can’t remember… I have nothing to worry about this morning. That means I’m forgetting something.”
How I miss her. But… soon.)
And so, here I sit, sweat-shirt and two hoodies, and gut-cramps. Ah, slowly becoming psychotic, as the morning sun rises beautifully, filtring through a morning mist of ice fog, hard frosts, and minus 6 degrees. – An e-mail this morning: Jobs… in NYC. I’m on the list. I wonder. – 23.19 Another day with this house… alone. And no phone call to say “Not coming today/tonight.” I don’t expect that consideration or maturity, especially since he’s spending so much time with “mommies”. It also makes me feel that the U-Haul will be pulling into the drive any day. At this point: no matter. Don’t care. 7 rooms to my-self. I can. – And so, salvaged the Rockaway sketch today… in peace. I’m quite happy. – Thursday’s a damned holiday! Oh bloodyfukkme! Thanksgiving. Last year was at J.San’s. This year… I had my Thanksgiving day… and dinner, in Octobre. I “was” “thankful”. Done. No doubt I’ll have the house on Thursday. No doubt “Boy Wonder” will be in So.BTV with “mommies”. Oh, I’ll hope. – Meanwhile, peace in the house tonight. Relatively warm. A little more on the charcoals and… to bed! Full day ahead tomorrow. I need this place for a while and my “HA8539266″ is in full swing! Vermont can suck my rectum! I’ll do what I must… for me. These days alone
have paid off. – But, all said, to close this day… I did OK, kept busy all through, potted the ivy, got MUCH on the sketch. Oh! Dinner? I made dumplings to go with my soup! Made dumplings! Micro-waved no less! Flour-baking soda. These are the times I’m proud of and comforted by my ancestry… and history. – A few hours of Twitter this evening… with a Labatts Blue (one day I’ll have and enjoy a “50″) Nanc was on. (And if you read this: You will never know the extent of Peace and Real Joy you bring to me, nor how I marvel over how we “met”, where I was, where “we’ve” come along our own “Time-lines”. I’m nothing short of astonished… and SO Grateful!). And there are a few new folks including one young Alaskan fellow, now in NYC. Young, Gay, Alaskan and in NYC. I can’t help but ponder: to be young, Gay, Alaskan, in today’s NYC… nothing remotely resembling “my” NYC when it was a bit tougher but SO much more friendly. I wish him all good luck and fortune. – Well… post-time. This day is closed.

Mon.19.Nov: 1.21 I promised I’d be asleep by now. Tonight I’m not “as anxious” as previous nights and I’m actually enjoying having this part of this house to my-self (ah… to bump Hillary out… she’s been irritatingly loud since Silas isn’t here… little bitch). Still, it is rather nice and the rent’s paid through. I doubt Don will return the “last” paid or the security. So, if “Wonder Brat” decides to “ditch-out”, so be it. If course, I need cooking utensils, furniture, especially rugs, dishes, flat-ware. (A computer for Internet too! Shit! Groups on Twitter give and give and here I sit…) But, I’ve done with-out before. No problemme! – Just less than ,25 tank if oil. So, fir a while, I’m OK. And as Enya sings on the radio, from HOME… – 8.10 and 16•, in the house. Minus 3 on out-side. And… quiet. We’re up (I’m up) and… as soon as the car thaws (or 10.00)… I’m off and running! (All this for a month?Yeah. Well. Why not? Eh?) – 11.14 I can’t get the temperature above 18 in here today. Hmpf. But the Tilden sketch is done, yay, even unto the fixative. I am “accomplished”. It was fun and interesting: The absolute compulsion to complete the sketch. Ann said: The difference between somebody who does “art” and a true “Artist” is that an “Artist” is compelled, has a “need” to create. This morning, I woke with that “need” and as I worked, I was delighted, and felt a “peace”. Is it what I feel to be “perfect”? No. But… it’s served its purpose… I remember, and now, I have it to see… daily… and continue to remember. One day, probably soon, it too will become land-fill. But it exists now, and will do so for its time. – 11.56 Time to get me together, get out, get busy in the conventional sense. I “need”… “NEED!” to turn the heat DOWN! Oil’s running out quicker these nights and, well, until some kind of relief comes along, this is the end of it for a while. Chilly days ahead, Captain. – No word from Silas. Interesting. No word… at all. I suspect “mommies” have convinced him to retreat in defeat with-out making any effort. And I expect he’s done so… with-out making any effort. I am… solo… again. – At about 14.00, I heard the thumping down-stairs. Silas had returned. Oddly, I was not happy, nor relieved, as I thought I might be. These past few days I’ve adjusted to a clean, manageable, peaceful house. Oh well. He came up the stairs to tell of his latest woes. Indeed, Silas entres, Peace retreats. I listened. More about the car. Insurance doesn’t want to cover because he told them he was delivering parcels (off the clock). Did I want to ride with him to Williston? He had to go to the banque for copies of his pay for FoodStamps. (I was happy to go to Williston, having things I could do there, but suggested he could get pay-advices on-line… I thought: the banque won’t have such things!) Fine. – I went down-stairs to shower. He went for the stove. Pans, tins, corn… I jokingly asked if they weren’t feeding him (mommies). “She wouldn’t stop feeding me!” Food on the stove to cook, he abandoned it to go to his room. It became my responsibility to make certain nothing burned. After a few moments, he made a telephone call out on the back porch and brief moments later he was driving away. Hillary shows at the door, no knock, walks in looking for him. He’d told her he’d be up there to visit. (Oh yes? Told me we were off to Williston.) I showered, put me back into “Me” mode. (And I did the dishes.) – Curiosity made me wait for his return… and, I had time. When he did return, some moments later… He’d gone to the office to discuss the accident. Of course, he was told: he was off the clock AND had no business delivering! Today’s “lesson”. And I’m not in a “caring” mind-set. But then? “Hillary wants to watch this video so I told her I’d be over.” Yup. And so, he was out again… to buy food for them. Whining about having no money, depending on FoodStamps that have been cut, spending money to buy food for Hillary (who works steadily). Naw, I don’t care. And I wad off, in my little renegade rust-bucket, to make my application for what *I* need, for *ME*. – A most delightful couple of hours at the library where my application for assistance got done… with a brief note: Primary lease-holder is “abandoning”, leaving me with bills and rent in arrears. Hey! That’s the last status report I got. We’ll see what this does when EconSvcs finds his and my addresses. I filed… here, at the house. Indeed, I don’t “care”. – En route back, I stopped-in at FamDlr for some cheap items to “dress-up” the house… for me. Table cloth, another 1$ poinsettia, air freshener for when the heat comes up, to take the staleness out of the house. Had really charming chat with the young sales lady there. We talked holidays and such. I can’t help but think: I’ve made attachments with Locals here. Silas bitches about them. I bitch about the State. But I have good times with the “Folk”. Indeed, I suppose I “live” here… he doesn’t… His choice. – When I got back, the house was empty, bright lights on. I turned them off, put up a Wint’ry table cloth, some red’n’green in the place, air freshener in the heat registre. Silas walks in, goes to computer, says he needs light bulbs for desk lampe… and heads out. Me? I just went about my business. – When he returned, we got into his Buddhist philosophies, chants, and how the World is oppressing him. He checked his credit score. 700′s but down from August… and 28k in out-standing debt! He claims he came to VT in Aug. with 40k in the banque! Almost an entire year living expense-free with mommie and now DEBT! Oh yeah!… my interview with SocSvces will be… Indeed. (Oh… earlier, he DID find his pay-advices on-line – may I record: once again, I’m not stupid and ‘I toldya so!’ Anyway… From July through early Sept; about 4500 NET! GONE! My “taxable” for entire 2011? 9762! And the I.Arse (RS) still took over 600 in taxes from me! Perspective here. HELL-OH!) And… I just let it all float along. – When, at last it was time to leave the “Gloom’n’Doom” behind, he complained about the cold. I suggested setting the thermostat up a bit… to 66F. I’d set it to 62F when he kept leaving the kitchen door open. And with a “Get good sleep.” I climbed the stairs thinking “I could say ‘Welcome home’… No… I can’t. This isn’t ‘your home’, it’s the place you abuse, with the person you feel entitled to abuse in it. Fuck you. And the day is coming… not by my hand but your own.” – I snuggled-in for some TwitChat for a while, looking forward to fun, fascinating, comforting, “adult” conversation at day’s end. – At 23.12 and 22,5 degrees in this room! Less than ,25 tank of oil & he’s cranked the heat! HE is in for some bitter times! And IF he thinks he’ll use the oil and run to mommie, I’m in “Homeless” mode and this will end in front of a Judge! I’ll fukking drag his fukking dyke “mothers” into it if need be! 23,5 degrees! Shit!

Tue.20.Nov: 8.15 Out of bed at 7.40. The heat must have come up at least twice between 7.15 and then. I was awake at 7.15 (but dozed a bit longer). As has become my morning routine, went down-stairs to open the blinds, let the sun in, hopefully warm the place a bit. The thermostat was set at 66F, as it was when we went to sleep. It’s only -4 this morning, so that’s not “bitter” cold. I put it down to 62F. And little Mr. Mommie is here, asleep. Good for him. How-ever, since I’m the one fighting to keep the roof (walks, ceiling, heat and lights), I’m the one who’ll control oil usage. As is my mind-set of late: Roles here have been reversed, and I will take this matter as far as I must to maintain my place of shelter. He will, I’ve no doubt, run to mommie at month’s end. I’ll not be put out. I sat here for the past several days, cutting-back on oil, electric and water. He will learn to do like-wise. – NYC8539266 is temporarily on holidays. HA8539266 is alive… and well… It’s MY “survival instinct”, the “cornered rat” these days. – 8.40 and the sound of SLAMMING cup-board doors. Peace… is… dead. – 8.53 He drives away! Inspection revealed: he washed and put-up the dishes he’d left in the sink over-night! I’m amused. – (16.33) At about 14.30, a visit. Rather quiet, removed, Silas returns to announce he’s going to get his snow tyres put on (this grips me with anxiety only because it reminds me: there’s NO tread on ‘my’ tyres and snow is coming and… well… it’s also illegal, in several ways). Hmm… He’d said that about 2 weeks ago. OK. He’ll be back “home” (he calls this “home”, how charming) about 6 or 7 tonight. Right. So what? Really. Go. But thanks for letting me know that I’ll have the house to MY-SELF! YAY! PEACE! BuhBye là! – Unfortunately, today, for the most part, I was just exhausted, truly exhausted. Physically exhausted. Strangely exhausted. So, no dancing in the hall-ways. Some text AND Twtr with Nanc. BOTH, back and forth. It was, to me, for me, amazing. I’d never expected me to do such a thing. – Then, some daily politics… the “un-rest” between Israel and Gaza. It shocks and amazes me at how truly stupid Americans are and how proud of their stupidity the are! My own opinions and connexions aside, the history speaks for itself but Americans will NOT research or read! Alas. I get involved on and off and then… let it drop. It gets circulation moving. Then it becomes tediously boring… which brought me to a nap. – When I woke from said nap, an e-mail: TeddyBear! Will I come back to work the holiday season? Indeed! (Now to figure finances for bus-fares! I’m about fukked. But…) Training on the 29th! (Awaiting confirmation at present.) Court on the 30th and HOPE like HELL they don’t want me to work the 30th OR the week-end (court fux me on the 30th and no busses on week-ends… More shit!) But, we shall see. I’ll make an effort. (Shit! I don’t even know what’s going to happen with my housing!) – Well… 16.55. Sun’s gone, blinds closed, lights on, me showered, heat’s coming up, it hit 20• in this room. And after a “cool” day in the house, it’s too hot! (I still have a feeling Silas took off today because I “froze him out”. I can put on a sweater… I wish I had one… He just isn’t built for The North. Toughshit.) – 22.51 Ah well, time fir insomnia. Tonight should be interesting: eyes won’t focus. But I know why: a diet of candy (sugar) and coffee all day. I’ll never learn. – Anyway, it went along the lines of… At almost 18.00 exactly, Silas did return. Came up-stairs to ask if I’d like some mashed potatoes. Figuring that might help get the O.D. of sugar out of my system (I really was feeling miserable, in the way only hypoglycemics and diabetics actually know) I agreed. And he made them… ALL of the potatoes left in the house, maybe a kilo or just slightly more. (I’m rather thinking he’s prepping for his “launch” out of here, or, as I thought as he ate a good 3/4 of them: He hadn’t gone to mommie today and probably didn’t eat. Either way, I don’t care, not really at all.) But, they were good, filling, and partially did take care of the pending sugar coma. As we ate, he invited me to watch a movie. “Prometheus”. Having not much else to do, and needing to not focus my eyes on anything, I agreed. (Missed Nanc’s tweet though, and am not happy with me about it, even though my vision was so damned bad most of the evening I probably couldn’t have communicated much.) Also? Hillary isn’t in tonight so… he had time to “share” with me. How kind. (Fukkit) – A note, however: Before getting into the movie, he was I.M.ing with one of the Cali-roomies and Vermont came into their correspondence. He read some comments to me and then sent my observation, almost verbatim: “One can’t help but fall in love with the beauty of this State, really; but it’s the people here that make it a miserable Hell.” He told me he completely agrees and the “one thing” that makes him so completely miserable and hateful now is that, no matter what, he’ll be bound by the lease on this place. (Neither Don nor Connie will let him walk away and, as Connie, the “Business End” of the 2 told him “You signed a year’s lease and, well, we’re gonna hold you to it.” Silas told me “Even if I ditch-out, I’ll still have to pay them 800$ a month for the next 10 months!” I pointed-out to him that, if they want to, they CAN seize his assets, garnishee his income. – What I’ve not said is how involved and potentially costly in time, effort and perhaps money that could be. Hell! If they want to go after him? I’d be willing to help them. For my personal sake and to show Silas that he can’t just run from EVERY-thing he doesn’t like. I mean… Shit! If his mothers are going to be so bitchy toward me, then let THEM bail him out! Let THEM pay off the lease… and I’ll just stay and cover the essentials. Yes, indeed, my HA number is “active”, I’m in “Shelter Survival” and, as I’ve said, it ain’t pretty. I’ll do now, what I did for 16 months: Ensure MY relative comfort! There were guys in the Shelter, cons, parolees, murderers, thieves, whom I refer to as “friend” because we helped each-other survive. Silas is NOT ANY-where even remotely near ANY of those guys. I am still very much “Homeless” and will do now what WE did then. And with-out shame… ANY shame OR remourse. – That said, the movie was OK. – I did manage to get that he WILL be out of here for Thursday, probably leaving tomorrow evening. I’ll have the house to my-self again and another day of Peaceful enjoyment. (And another “holiday” to my-self.) Yes, I think of how those 2 dykes could be “kind” and make a gesture to invite me (hoping with their ALL that I’d decline… and I most certainly would!) considering all the time and effort I’d put into getting Silas his job, his “fresh start” in a new place (it’s not my fault he ran up 28k on, essentially, 60$ hookers). and have spent most of almost 3 months “repairing” the damage they inflicted, giving him some self-esteem and some semblance of responsibility and independence. But… as it was, is and shall be: like it or not, it’s become, forcibly “unconditional”. I leave it in the hands of my ancestors and… Life, both of whom and which have, in careful retrospect, never failed me. – And so, I have about 29$ in FoodStamps. There’s corn and butter in the house. Potatoes, meat and a bit of Love and Memories, I’ll whip-up a Paté Chinois for Thursday, and here, 2km from HOME, I’ll enjoy a taste of that HOME that this State and Dianna Olsen and Days Inn are keeping me out of and away from. It will be a “holiday” no matter what. Hell, maybe I’ll take the 10 minute stroll up the road to where I can see across the border, maybe bring my Paté Chinois with me, and, weather permitting, sit at road-side and let my Heart and Soul cross to HOME as I eat. This year, that way. Next year, my way. – And so, 23.47. This day is all but complete. On cue, insomnia kicks in. I’ll post this now, have done with it. Soon, it will be “tomorrow” and then? It will be “today”… again.

Wed.21.Nov: 8.50 And it suddenly occurred to me as I sit on the throne: 58th wedding anniversary today. Fortunately, they shot that 37 years ago (my, but it doesn’t seem possible; time just whipped by). Unfortunately, they’re both very much dead. It’s unfortunate for the World that she’s dead. It’s unfortunate that he’s dead because he doesn’t deserve the peace and finality. And it’s time for me to get on. – Feeling the “crash” of yesterday’s sugar! Even looking it! – And… it’s 24.04! Again, tonight, awake past the hour I wanted to be asleep! This shit MUST stop! And one beer isn’t helping. Perhaps medication? I wasn’t this “bad” in the Shelter! Fir fux sake, I wasn’t this bad through the first nights on the dunes! I was better on the first nights of rain, sleeping under trees! Yup… the strings are unraveling and at the end of the rope? A tidy loop. – Distract to the day’s events… – It went rather well, all told. Silas didn’t come in until about 14.00 or so. And when he did, he was “level”. Came right up-stairs to say hello. (Of course, had Hillary been at home, that would have been an entirely different scenario.) I made the effort to make him feel that it was a delight to see him (as is my jerk reaction) (“jerk”… in all senses of the word) and followed him to the kitchen where he tossed some tinned chili into the micro-wave. He’s feeling the bind of not having enough to “buy” prepared foods. Part of me aches… part of me almost delights… part of me feels guilty because of the delight. But, he ate. I’m glad. – He wanted to share a latest video game, so I sat a while, watching him engage in the computer. (I have to admit, the graphics were/are really amazing! I got drawn into them alone! It’s become quite an “art”.) – The house was terribly chilled (I’m hoarding the 1/8 tank of oil for my days alone in here whilst he toasts at his mommies’. When this is gone, there’ll be no more for a while). He didn’t once complain or re-set the thermostat. Rather, he put on extra sweat-shirts! So, there we sat, in his room, talking as he played. (continuing Thu.22.Nov: 9.22 on the computer) I was rather hesitant to ask, but had to: I understand that he brings his lap-top with him when he goes to his mommies’ so that he has access to his games and communications and such, but it’s bothered me that he’s not once offered the use of the computer in the house. I’ve wondered if, in his mind, he’s concerned that I might, in some way, damage it. I braced my-self for an answer and asked directly. The response was a relief and welcome: “No. Of course you can use the computer.” I was delighted! I wanted to get more music for the iPod and wanted to work on the files I have on there that are accessible only via computer. And now, I had permission. Yes, I could have easily just taken advantage and used it. But, being the simpleton that I am, permission was necessary. And now? It was granted! – Time came for him to get on his way and for me, quite hungry at this point, to get to the market for provisions for the little “celebration dinner” I planed for tomorrow… alone. At round about 17.00 Silas got him-self ready to leave. Surprisingly, he came to me, open arms, gave me a firm hug and asked “Are you going to be alright?” Well of course I’m going to be alright. Why shouldn’t I be? I’m prepared for the day when you waltz in here, quietly, and with-drawn, and in silence, pack your belongings into a truck and leave. I’m prepared for the day when there’s no oil in the tank and no heat in the house. I’m prepared for the day when I’ll have to sit here alone and wonder when I’ll be tossed aside again. I’m prepared for it all… ALL. Will I be “alright”? To the best of my abilities, of course I will be. I’m alright now. I’ll be alright, one way or another, all alone. – I left the house first, headed down the hill toward the river and the market. He drove by as I walked into the parking lot at the market. I was… again… alone. But, the fact of the matter here is: I’ve walked along the streets in the town and met people on the streets. I’m just another one of them, even though they might not see me in that manner. I walk to the markets, talk with the people about the things that the people talk about here. I’ve not protected my-self in a car, or by distancing my-self from them. This town, for all intents and purposes, has become my “home”. I’m comfortable here, whether with some-one else or not. I “AM” “alright”. – In the market, with limited resources, I managed to get the little package of beef and a bag of potatoes I’ll need for tomorrow’s dinner (meal, as it is). A carton of half’n’half
beef, potatoes, half’n’half, a bottle of ketchup. Tomorrow, I’ll have a Paté Chinois! I’ll enjoy a bit of my HOME, in spite of all the successful efforts of others to keep me from that pleasure and to keep me from BEING AT HOME! I WILL enjoy! (This morning I looked at the receipt from yesterday’s purchases and am a bit amazed: When I left the market last night I thought I had only about 8$ left with which to by food until the 1st of next month… Lo!and Behold as well! 13,71! Certainly not a “banquet”, but by no means, too little to live with. OK then!) – Back at the empty and peaceful house, there was a frozen pizza waiting. I’d gotten it a few nights ago… for Silas. I knew he’d probably not been eating as well as he’s accustomed to so I wanted to make sure he had something to enjoy, something filling. But tonight, it was MINE! Into the oven it went! MEANWHILE… I hit the computer! MUSIC! MUSIC! MUSIC! Even if my days are numbered, I WILL HAVE MY MUSIC! And since governments and all sorts of stupidity prohibit me from obtaining the music of “HOME”, and, thanks to Silas, I’ve learned how to obtain that music anyway… MUSIC! Down-loaded, converted, up-loaded to the iPod and… MUSIC! FRENCH! YES INDEED! – I ate as I worked on the music and when all the tunes I could think of were ready, I was finished eating… Into the kitchen to clean my disorder and PLAY THE MUSIC AND DANCE again tonight. Ah… but the echo in the emptiness of this house is wonderful! From the kitchen, the sounds FILLED the house even up to my room! Tonight there was LIFE in here! It was just incredibly WONDERFUL! LIFE! I danced in the kitchen! I danced in the dining-room! I danced in the living-room! The music wafted, floated, filled the house! It was a delight! It was pleasant. It was, for those moments… LIVING! The dishes got done. The oven (needing, in the worst way, the attention) got cleaned! Tonight, this place, this huge old drafty, chilly old place is my home! I looked upon it, existed in it, and saw that it was good. Yay me! Fuk the rest! – It got to be late, I got to be a little fatigued (from all the dancing and rejoicing and stupidity) and it was time to retire. Probably some-where round 22.00. I went up-stairs to see if Nanc was or had been on the Twitline. Indeed… there she was. So too, all the bull-shit about Israel and Gaza. But that much didn’t really matter. A few tweets in the night to/from Nanc, a couple of comments about the others and, in spite of the insomnia that grips my damned mind and body of late, the ONE beer I’d saved for tonight was done and so was this day. – Tonight, the radio got turned off, the lights got turned off, the thermostat set to 65F (usually at 60F) and it was time to put this day behind me. – The thoughts of the expenses to come, the need for heating in particular, started to pound their way into my mind. Applications have been submitted and now, again, I wait for the actions and attention and decisions of others who have the ability to make my future either tolerable or miserable. I’m prepared for the worst but, in my own complete disappointing and disgusting stupidity, there’s just the very slightest glimmer of… “may the necessities come before the suffering begins”. Although there’s not much I can do about it, I will not accept that I should have to suffer any more than I have in my existence. I WILL!of course. I know this. But I just can’t let it go: I’ve been a relatively good person all my existence. Karma, god or what-ever… just plain shit. – Lights out, day done. Fukkit!

Thu.22.Nov: 7.47 And why am I awake this early on a day when there is no business to attend? Who knows? And who cares? I’m awake because the alarm sounded and I am awake. The house is delightfully warm, the sun is shining in through the open blinds, frost lends a beautiful Wint’ry haze to the World out-side, there’s peace, there’s quiet, there’s calm, there’s serenity, there’s 8 days until the rent comes due again, 8 days until the electric comes due again, 8 days until I have to be tortured and persecuted in Burlington at 8.30 in the morning, and probably 3 days’ worth of oil left in the boiler, there’s 40$ in the banque and there’s no way in Heaven or Hell or on Earth that sun if these things will be taken care of, and, in all likelihood, 8 days until I will be sitting here in this house, alone, after Silas takes off and away with his belongings and heads back down the road to return to the safety and sanctuary of his mommies. And yet, I am awake, and the new day begins, this U.S. day of “Giving Thanks”. This morning, I am, indeed, “Thankful”. – In my younger years, I had a Mother who was a delight, a charm, a Caring and Most Loving Parent AND Best Friend and Comrade. She nurtured me to the Very Best of her abilities and protected me, was my shield against most harm, allowed me to experience and learn what it would take, and has taken to survive. (A cat, across Town St., in a bit of leaves in the church yard, digs in the fallen leaves on this crisp morning… alone, in the cold. I watch through the window, from in-side the house where it’s warm, but getting chilly because I brought the thermostat down to minimum. The cat is out there, alone, in the cold… this morning, I am in here, alone, remembering the days of waking at sun-rise, under a tree, on the ground, damp from the night dew, alone, in the cold. I still remember… still remember. It’s very simple, so very easy to put a cat out in the cold. It’s also just as simple, just as easy to put a person out there. And I know because I still remember.) My Mother taught me what I needed and now need to manage with what resources I have. She taught me how to laugh, to find beauty in my surroundings, to make my part of the World enjoyable and to appreciate and cherish the Magnificence of others, few as they might be, who are also Caring, Loving and Kind. Surrounded by adversity, beaten, tortured and terrorised by her “husband”, “mate”, “spouse”, my “father”, she found, or created moments in which to laugh, sing, dance. Often with me… sometimes, I’ve no doubt… alone. She taught me how to take each moment in Time and to find something pleasant about it, to grab hold, tightly, to that bit of enjoyment, to Live in it and, when it passed, to store it in my memory as a resource, to be used again, at some later time when it would be needed. Surely, there were those who looked at her thinking she didn’t care, didn’t hurt, didn’t take any of the seriousness to heart, just as there are those who see me in the same manner. But I knew then, and I know today… exactly what it was that she felt and experienced in her Heart… and, just as it didn’t matter to her what others saw in her, it doesn’t matter to me what others see. Neither my Mother nor I were put here, in this existence, to project our “selves”, to burden others with our own cares. There are more than enough of those in each and every moment of each and every day. My Mother taught me that there is more pleasure in sharing a better moment, a lighter moment with others, to relieve them of their own battles and burdens, to give them a moment when they too can smile, laugh, sing, dance. My Mother brought these moments into my life, made certain that I would know how to see that ALL of this is transient and will come to a meaningless end at some point, and instead of allowing it to crush me and others around me, that it makes my life better, as well as others’, to lighten oppression, even briefly because, when those around us are able to enjoy, we can enjoy them. – I am thankful for my Grand-parents… on both sides. The paternals, poor country people with precious little of their own, surviving from day-to-day, mostly in the rural parts of the Earth, taught me to appreciate the Natural; a deer, a tree, a vernal pond. They taught me to make food from the most un-likely but available resources surrounding me, and to hear the music in something as seemingly mundane as a breeze, the rhythmic chirping of a bird, or the snap of twigs under foot as I walked through the woods. From them I learned how to survive on those dunes, under that tree, on the ground, to wake in the morning and walk toward the rising sun for warmth, to pick a nut from the tree, to find a berry in the woods, to drink, to be comfortable in all that surrounds me and how to enjoy, even when all seemed dismal and dark. – And the maternals taught me to appreciate and enjoy frugality, how to use what-ever resources were available, how to make sure that what would be needed later is part of what is available at the moment and how to utilise the immediate so as to ensure the future, and how to appreciate even the slightest of what-ever it is that I have at the moment, be it a morsel of food, a light-weight shirt in the cold or a bit of money, how to use what-ever resources were available and turn them into what-ever it is that my human needs made necessary. I learned from them, how to handle even a day like this when money, food, clothing and needed warmth are at a minimum, will need to be stretched beyond their present availability and yet, how to appreciate the “now”, remain aware of the “later” and utilise all to ensure that the “later” isn’t as difficult as it might be, had I not learned from them, frugality. I learned also not to resent frugality but to appreciate it, for all its worth. – I am thankful this morning for these people and the lessons I learned from them. This morning I’m thankful that they Cared for and about me enough to teach me. I’m thankful that I was aware enough to learn from them. – This morning, I’m thankful that I have been so very fortunate to have been given the Gift of Good, Kind, Caring and Loving others through the course of my existence and my Life here. Indeed they were few in comparison to the number of people I’ve met over 57 years. But the quantity is nothing in comparison to the “Quality” of them. Indeed, and in need, I’ve never really been “alone”. Even across great distances, there has always been some-one who Cares… for and about me… just as I have Cared for and about them. I realise and I know this… and today, as all other days before and after this day, I was, am and will be… Thankful. – 9.05 I’m thankful right now for being able to type this all on a computer! Yesterday I was given permission to use Silas’s computer, in his room. That trust is tantamount to all, and I am appreciative and thankful. – His room is rather chilly, a bit brisk. Hey, I’m even thankful for this opportunity to actually experience what this room is like for him! He’s certainly not accustomed to this chill, or the need to make due with and the best of what little there is available, as I’ve already given thanks for here. It must be rather difficult for him to accept. That doesn’t justify his unwillingness to learn how to deal with this, nor does it justify his apathy where I’m concerned, the ease with which he could and most likely will simply walk out and away. But, I better understand and again, today, I learn. I’m thankful… Then again… today is really no different from any other day… I learn, I’m thankful, and, more often than not, I resentfully close one day and greet yet another. – (To be continued…)

– I started to type an entry on Silas’ computer but got so involved with posting pictures that the notes never made it to the Journal. But I’d kept them as an e-mail draft. I’m adding it on here and will continue to work with it:The day? Well… it went right along some-how. I managed to get the iPod “fixed” and all the music the way I suppose it should be. For a while, I thought I’d lost more music, but to my relief, I found it! I’m wondering if all the music that I had to re-load wasn’t there in the first place. I’ve gotten so terrible at technology in recent years. I’m truly ashamed. But, the important thing is that all the music is there and I have it and can listen and enjoy it. And (As it would be, I managed to screw these notes up and duplicated some information. But, since there’s just a bit of difference between the original notes and what was added when I finally got my butt into bed, I’m going to keep both. What follows is the account from up-stairs, when I finally got to bed… at almost 4.00am) The day? Well… it went right along some-how. I managed to get the iPod “fixed” and all the music the way I suppose it should be. For a while, I thought I’d lost more music, but to my relief, I found it! I’m wondering if all the music that I had to re-load wasn’t there in the first place. I’ve gotten so terrible at technology in recent years. I’m truly ashamed. But, the important thing is that all the music is there and I have it and can listen and enjoy it. And today… I did… – By about 14.00, I thought it might be in my best interest to get to the cooking, just so it was finished before Silas came back (I don’t know that he will, and I don’t know that he won’t but I don’t want all the cooking going on whilst he’s here and I don’t want to eat whilst he’s here either. Actually? I’m rather selfish right about now and I don’t want to share… especially not this: paté chinois!) Anyway, I was off and running. Took a shower, got me together, hooked the music up in the kitchen and dove right into the whole project! WOW! For a couple of hours, I was THRILLED! Potatoes got peeled and in the pot to boil, followed by a pot of rice (all we have is “Sushi” rice, imagine that) for a pudding/custard for desert. Next, and onion, diced and sautéd. The potatoes finished just after the onions and what timing! Some of the onions got mashed into the potatoes whilst the rice cooked in water, half’n’half, sugar and vanilla. The timing was super through-out! Potatoes mashed, beef went into the pan with the rest of the onions… Done! I had to go into the packed-to-move box for a small loaf pan that JUST fit the ingredients perfectly! – (3.57… a nap for right now.) – For the rest of Thursday, there really is going to be a bit of trouble with this because it’s already 3.44 in the morning on Saturday as I sit at the computer, again, in Silas’ room, typing. (I absolutely HATE this “OpenOffice” programme. What I wouldn’t give to have my old “Word” back. But it’s been so long since I’ve been able to work with that… since NYC, come to think of it. But enough of this whining…) Let’s see what I can recall… Just before cooking the meet for the paté, I whipped a bit of a custard for the rice. I really enjoy making custard, the challenge is distracting and such a great sense of accomplishment when it comes out the way it should. (Tonight’s didn’t though.) Into the pot with the rice went a bit of half’n’half to cook a bit longer and then… and then… the addition of the beaten eggs! Well! THAT actually went perfectly well! I was happy about that. And it all fit into a nice oven-safe bowl which went in to the oven before the paté. As the desert began to cook, I assembled the paté and, yes, the ingredients DID fit into the small loaf pan just perfectly with only about a spoon of potato left (for me to eat as I waited for the cooking to get done). Into the oven and as that all continued to cook, I, of course, washed the dishes and put them up so that the kitchen was in delightful order as I sat to eat. No booze in the house these days, but I did manage to mix a “Virgin Mary” (V8 and horseradish… DEElish!) and instead of wine, a nice wine glass of pomegranate juice. Hey! It looked right! Right enough to take a couple of photos (see above…). – Finally, it was time to sit and enjoy a nice quite meal. I haven’t gotten to do much of that… well… shit… in almost 2 years again. Tonight was a very special treat for me. I wasn’t celebrating or observing the holiday today, but in some way I suppose I did… having a “sit-at-the-table” meal! And OH! It was SOOOOO GOOD! The paté cooked perfectly well, but (of course there’s a “but”) the rice that was supposed to be pudding came out dry! Ever so tasty, but instead of being a pudding, it was more of a baked rice. After I’d finished the “main course”, which was so filling that I didn’t even manage to eat half of what I’d cooked (very unusual for me, and for me and paté chinois which I usually devour all of what-ever quantity is made), it was time to sit, have coffee and desert! Imagine that! And so I did. – Well, by 17.25 Dinner done, dishes done, the whole thing, done. And here I sit, at the computer in Silas’s room, waiting to move some photos of today’s little “non-event” to the FlashDrive and then to, I’m hoping, the Journal. It would be nice to have them there, backed-up, just in case. – (Caught up with the notes and “cleaned” them a bit… covering all the details that aren’t even worth mentioning, but the have been. Now to get the rest in order and try to get on with Friday.) It’s3.57 on Friday. 23.11 and I’m just getting into bed. Not sure why I’m even bothering… I have to put the garbage out at 7.00. And why I’m making notes for today (Thursday) is anybody’s guess. Yes, I’m tired. No, I didn’t nap at all today. But it’s the insomnia: oil’s low, rent’s coming due, electric’s coming due, there’s been no work in 3 weeks, high temperature’s supposed to be minus 1 on Sunday, I have to tell Bob and Lyle that I won’t be taking the room on the 1st Dec. (because I’ve got 49$ in the banque and 3 trips to BTV coming next week)… on and on and so forth. I mean… really. Sleep? – But WOW! What a day this was! Truly amazing! It began (and ended) with MUSIC! Harmonium! Pierre Bertrand! Luba! Beau Dommage! And even a tune from 1975 that I remember buying in Simpson’s! On the “Campus” label! MUSIC! The poor iPod could play through a day or two now! Roberta Flack, Mahalia Jackson and even contemporary songs! I’m ready to live and die now! And in between, COOKING! REAL COOKING! Paté Chinois and what was supposed to be rice pudding but turned-out to be more of a baked rice. Still, it wasn’t bad.

Fri.23.Nov: Friday. I didn’t get to sleep until almost 4.00am this morning, and even though I put my head on the pillow, got snuggled under the blankets, sleep just didn’t want to come. I have no idea how long I lay there, awake, waiting for sleep to come take me, but, apparently, at some point I did drift off… But only until about 7.15 when the alarm sounded. (Now to continue… it’s already 4.21 on Saturday morning! THIS INSOMNIA IS EVENTUALLY GOING TO KILL ME! But, I’m in no mood to go to bed, there are dishes in the kitchen sink and I’m all but wide awake! So… I continue with this and maybe I’ll see bed round about noon… I’m not expecting Silas until late Saturday or maybe not even until Sunday so…) Back to Friday. – THIS FRIDAY WILL BE A DAY THAT I’LL NOT FORGET!!!!! It was, for the most part, and I DO mean this with every bit of sincerity that I can possibly put into words, a most tearful day. – (Note from this morning…) Fri.23.Nov: 9.49 Just waking… I woke at 7.15, looked out the window, saw no garbage bags on the street and thought that there’s no pick-up this morning. So I went back to sleep. Woops! When I woke, the recyclables bin is out front. Well, Silas has returned. – A photo message from Nanc… her kitchen. And it’s a lovely kitchen… Bright, neat, “kitcheny”. Welcoming. And then… – I went to check today’s weather on the iPod. It’s supposed to be up around 12 degrees today, but… NO WiFi! My heart went through the top of my head! First thought: ‘Silas is here… his mommies convinced him to leave… he’s taken the computer and is gone!’ He told me a while ago: ‘If you ever look in my room and the computer’s gone, that means I’ve gone.’ I don’t know why, really, but, in a panic- rush, I headed down the stairs. His bed-room doors are shut. (I didn’t even hear that, and that’s almost frightening to think I’d been that deep asleep.) No car in the drive. (continuing) I took the liberty of going into his room to check for the computer. It was still there (I use past-tense now because of the re-cap.) The next thing I think is that I’ve screwed it up some-how and that’s why there’s no WiFi! SHIT! I paced a bit, went up and down the stairs to check the iPod for connection and then… it must have been round about 11.30 or maybe noon when Silas came up the stairs. He was unusually calm, composed. And in some kind of mood that I would never have expected. He talked about being about 80$ short of having the rent for Decembre, but he’s not worried about it! He complained, but ever so calmly, about putting in all these hours and driving all the distance (working hours here and then the hours in Shelburne… poor kid! I truly feel badly for him. Yes, I had to go through similar over the course of years, but that doesn’t mean he should have to… nobody should HAVE to do such a thing!) and then, at the end, the pay-cheque doesn’t cover even the essential expense. I told him that I KNOW how that is and that I wish there was something I could do immediately, to compensate. He re-assured me that he understands what I must be going through and that he’s worried about me being here, in the house, alone in “solitary confinement” as he put it. I assured him that I’m fine… He asked about the insomnia and went into a supportive dissertation on how he’s concerned that the stress of all that’s been happening to me and the added stress of not getting any work hours might be taking a toll. (Well, obviously, it is. But I wouldn’t say that to him. It’s none of his concern, especially right now.) (It’s actually none of anybody’s business, but this will be read and… well… It still isn’t anybody else’s business.) I assured him that I’m fine. And so I am. Really. Just not sleeping is all. We went down to the kitchen where I told him there was more paté chinois. He had a portion of it, heated and almost finished the rice! Said it’s actually some kind of Asian dish, cooked that way. And he enjoyed it! – He had to go finish work, and as he was leaving, the mail was in the box. He actually got it! This too is odd for him. Usually, the mail will stay in that box (just as Hillary does with her’s) for upwards of a week or 2 before it gets brought in. I don’t usually check because there’s only one person (up until now) who sends me anything here at the house… Nanc. But today, TWO enveloppes for me! Paper-work on my application for “HELP!” from Vermont… anything to cause delays! Morons and bastards! But… BUT BUT BUT… From Nanc!!! A card! A Card! A CARD! Kriste it was good to receive mail and even BETTER receiving it from some-one I consider a “Loved One”! What I didn’t expect was what was in the card! As if my Heart had gone out on the wind, my unspoken inner thoughts had been “made known”, as if my feelings had been given a voice! (I didn’t open the card until after Silas had left to return to work. I wanted to cherish the card, alone, to my-self, in relative silence and peace. I didn’t know what was in the card at the moment… the card alone was a tonic to my Spirit.) – When Silas had left, I took the card up to my room and opened it. A cheque. A CHEQUE! With the 150 I can now put what I have in the banque with it and GET OIL! HEAT! NO MORE PANIC! NO MORE ANIETY! Yes, it’ll clean me out completely at this point, but at least I won’t have to consider sitting in here, alone, freezing. And I won’t have to ponder listening to the likes of “Fuk man! It’s FREEZING in here!” (what I expect to hear if the oil goes and Silas has to tolerate the chill that I’ve already become accustomed to). AND… just this morning, Silas had mentioned that his next checques won’t even come to enough to pay the rent! OK! So we’ll cross that hazard when it comes (since Vermont wants to play bull-shit with me on my application for help). At least we can fight for a place that provides some comfort. And the forecast for Sunday is a HIGH of only minus 1! There’s JUST enough oil left to get through that one day. On Monday, I can call for another delivery of the minimum that they’ll deliver. That’ll take us through a couple more days. SO! – I broke-down today. I mean, I actually BROKE-DOWN! The un-controllable and truly PAINFUL sobbing began. I don’t know, and I mean it literally, I don’t know how to handle kindness. It’s not something I’m accustomed to receiving. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to sufficiently “Thank”. I’ve never learned, never been “wired” for it. Oh yes, to give is no trouble. (It’s at times like this when I recall Liz scolding me, years ago: “You know the feeling you get when you help other people? You know the sense of accomplishment, the sense of being ‘Human’? Well, when you decline offers from others who actually WANT to help you when you need, you deny US the privilege of experiencing the same satisfaction, the same feeling of accomplishment, the same JOY YOU get! And that’s just UN-forgivably SELFISH in the MOST NEGATIVE way!”) Still, it was painfully appreciated. Just amazingly appreciated… and yet, painful. All through the day, the sobbing would suddenly start, unexpectedly. HARD! Just gut-wrenching SOBS! At one point I thought, as I sat by the window: it seemed as if ALL the pain had just come loose at once! ALL of the times when I should have cried congealed and burst, like a burningly painful carbuncle that had tightened my skin, my Soul to the point of Hellish fire! And here, now, it finally just burst right through and was oozing, uncontrollably. It had all festered for so long and now, here, it was BURSTING! And it HURT! Terribly. And it wouldn’t stop. I texted. I tweeted. I just didn’t know what to do… what to say. And each time I tried to express my un-worthiness, the replies were the same: You’ve done for others, now it’s time for somebody to DO for YOU. (I can’t accept that. I just can’t. Stupid as it may seem, I just don’t have what-ever it is that’s needed to accept that. And so, the sobbing kept coming.) What made it all the MORE difficult was; because he had mentioned the rent, I sent a text to Silas asking if most of what I’d received would help (I wanted to put him at some level of peace… I can’t afford to cover all, I can’t even afford to cover what my contribution should be, but… his reply was thanks for the “offer” but no, I should keep it because I’ll need it for gas and transport to the appointments I have coming next week. I tried joking it off by saying “I need to re-gift. It’s part of my Heritage!” When he came back after work he looked at me, calmly and sternly and said “You need to hold onto that for gas, food and cigarettes. I was just venting. Don’t worry about it. I have what I need.” I went numb. Over-load. My brain just actually shut-down. TWO people, in one day, giving a damn about me. It just doesn’t make any sense to me, won’t registre, won’t assimilate, won’t even come close to me. Today has been a lesson: I just don’t possess the structure needed to simply accept fro others. I don’t know exactly what it is or was that brought this to where it is now, but, although I agree with what Liz said, I just find it impossible to change because I have no reference, no paradigm. I have absolutely no clue as to how to accept a “Kindness” from any-one! Even this reality brought more sobbing. And then, I was left alone, in the house, to sort it all out. Nope. It wouldn’t happen. There’s just nothing in me to look at, to go to, to work with. My appreciation is so much greater than anything I can think of to compare it with, but the inability to accept, graciously? No there. I am, what Liz called “Emotionally Stunted” and in the worst possible way. My heart wants to explode with gratitude. But my mind just repels it all. Yet, here it is: no worrying about the cold to come. No worrying about the discomfort. No worrying about the plumbing freezing. All I could think of was the performance of a Mitzvah, a “Law” that I, as a Jew, am OBLIGATED to follow and fulfill… and a MIRACLE… and nothing short of either. More sobbing. – As the day progressed, I went looking for more music (my down-fall since I want so much, have a compulsion to re-acquire what my sister had stolen from me). Searches turned-up so much of the past. And what was probably the worst? Chants… from services! Videos of Yom Kippur, wars in Israel. Jews praying. JEWS! I suddenly felt so removed, so EXILED! At one point as I watched and listened, the truth: I AM SO FAR FROM MY “PEOPLE!” and SO DAMNED ALONE! I yearned for a service, for the chance to get together and participate in the traditions of Jews around the world. We still use the original language. We still use the original chants and melodies. And I am alone… ALONE here! There’s NO-one who knows, who would understand. There are only 2 synagogues in the entire State and both of them are in BTV! And I have no way of getting there. And if I did? Reform. Not even Conservative. There’s NO TRACE of ANYTHING, ANY heritage, Tradition. NOTHING! I AM ALONE HERE! And I longed for “my People”. More sobbing! It was, in the truest sense: bitter-sweet. – I don’t recall how or when or why it all stopped. But at some point, I decided that it would be good to get something to eat. So, being alone, I went off to the kitchen to make mini-pizzas on the little breads that Silas had made at the beginning of the week and had left in the fridge. If I didn’t eat them, he’d toss them… and that wasn’t going to happen. So, a bit of ketchup, oregano, garlic and cheese and a moment in the micro-wave and… dinner. I brought it into Silas’ room and finished watching the movie (Monty Python’s “Meaning of Life”, of all things) that we’d started before he left. I dozed, “re-wound” to the missed parts and settled-in for the night. – When the “movie” was done, I returned to my hunt for music. FOUND SOME OBSCURE SONGS from back in the days of Montréal and PJ’s Cabaret (no longer there)! It was AMAZING! It was the answer and tonic to my compulsion and I got lost in it all. At one point, it led me to “Disco” music… from the days of theLimelight and les Mouches! NYC. Joyce. Amazingly wonderful times! And so, my music collection increased. I was very “in” it all when, but some freak accident, I happened to notice a link on Nanc’s Twitter: “Paintgirlthoughts” on WordPress. I clicked… and what I found brought back the sobs:
“October 14, 2012Hello world!
News from a swinging hammock…….. Started this blog in honor of a dear friend that I found on Twitter. His journal contained his thoughts, dreams, joys and frustrations. He has a hard life and yet remains stoic and yet humorous about his ups and downs. He is my friend even though we have never met. Friendship comes and goes, lasts a lifetime or for just a short time as our lives progress. Too often we take them for granted and they just fade away like dreams that we forget upon awakening. I am lucky to have had many that I can call BEST friends. Some I haven’t seen in years, but when we do see each other it feels like only days since we last spoke. I am grateful, and if you read this know you are one of them, My Jude.”

NEVER has ANY-one EVER acknowledged ANY mention of what my “Life” is truly like. I struck against me as if a train had crashed through the walls, striking me with all its force and weight… and yet, I survived to feel and experience the episode. Again, I found my-self unable to handle it, handle the Kindness. And again, the sobs, the tears, the anguish. (I’ve learned a lot in my life-time… I know I’ve SO much MORE to learn! SO VERY MUCH MORE! – Well… the night went on, I occupied my-self with “things” to be done… both that HAD to be done and things that I WANTED to accomplish. And, has become the “norm” of late, I looked at the clock on the computer screen and, once again, the clock was careening into the 4.00 hour! Another night of insomnia… another night of sleeplessness… another night… The “today” had become the “yesterday” and here I was, alone, invisible to the world… alone in this house… and the date changed as I ignored it… in the darkness and relative silence.

Sat.24.Nov: 4.28 and here I sit. – 16.33 12 hours later and I’m back… Looks more like I’m still here. But so much has been accomplished with these 12 hours: I got up and out of the “cot” at 9.00. The last time I’d looked at the clock, as I pulled the covers over me, it was 5.23 this morning. I’d actually forced myself onto the cot. Not ready to sleep. But… – It rained all night last night. A steady rain. I rather missed it, sitting in here, in Silas’ room, blinds closed. And when I went to bed, it was still raining. I missed that as well because it’s not just a privacy matter in this house to keep the curtains closed, it’s a matter of survival. Keeps what little heat there is in here, in here. Missed another rain-fall. How-ever, I did peg it correctly: Just before dozing-off I said (to “Victoria”, the name I’ve given the woman whom Silas has seen on the stairs, and I seem to see roaming about the place in just about any room other than the one I’m inhabiting), I said to her “You watch… there’s rain in the darkness but when the light comes, there’ll be snow; not a heavy snow like the kind we should be having in Novembre, but there will be snow.” – So, I woke to… as I’d said, the nicest, soft, heavy flurries! It was BEAUTIFUL! Didn’t stick to the ground (yet) and there wasn’t enough to panic over. But there it was, looking as magnificent as it possibly could. (Of course, immediately, or simultaneously, I thought: Bald tyres and a head gasket ready to blow… here we go… Winter. Fukme! I can’t even enjoy THIS!) and then I bounced out from under the blankets and on to the day! – Down the stairs to the kitchen where all the dirty dishes from last night waited for me in the sink. Alas. And who-givz-a-fuk. Coffee. The scrub bucket. The cleaners. Broom. Mop. ATTACK! Silas’ room got hit this morning by 10.00. Strip the tossed blankets from his bed, gather all the sweat-soaked and not-pleasantly-aromaed clothing. It ALL went! Off into the washer! Next? The floors! Swept-down to almost dustless. The duster came out. The bit of furnishings got hit! In Silas’ room there was a particular challenge: he’s got more in furnishings in that room than I have, and a large, shag rug. But… I got right into it. I just blindly went at it. As I worked, I recalled my “Life” in NYC: Every Saturday it was the same routine: Get up just before the sun rose, make coffee and hit the cleaning. EVERY Saturday. The laundry (all by hand of course), the dusting, the washing of wood-work, floors. Ironing. Never stopping for more than a cigarette and a bit more coffee until it was finished, usually at about 20.30 or so, at which time it was necessary to eat something. Cook. Eat. Get the dishes back to where they HAD to be and then? Time for a drink! It was Saturday and I’d worked for it. One quick drink (coffee laced with a good portion of vodka) and a shower. Time to hit the bars! And that was my Saturday routine. Ah… the younger days. How I miss them terribly. But here I was, today, re-living my NYC Saturday. And I was thrilled! It felt so good, so real, so traditional, so comfortable. – It must have been about noon when… in the midst of it all… dear little Silas came in on a quick stop on his rounds at work. It was good seeing him (and it made me stop for a while… a break). Of course, it took only the briefest of moments until the place needed a “freshening”. But today, I didn’t mind. Not in the least. It really was good seeing Silas back in the house. We chatted for a bit and he was off again. He did notice that his room was torn apart and I half expected a tirade. But… when he noticed a load of wash on the dryer he said “Oh shit! I’m sorry! Did I leave this in the dryer?” When I told him that I’d just grabbed all the clothes I could find (didn’t tell him that it was 3 loads), he just laughed. “You have to get back to work! You’re killing yourself around here!” – He stayed a brief while, talked about work and the left. I returned to getting the floors damp-mopped. – About 45 minutes later, Silas was back. His work “day” was done (poor kid has to go into Shelburned tonight to work a 17.00-1.00 shift!) and, as is his wont, out came the pots and such. He made a “porridge” of oats and rice, sugar and milk. He’s learning how to manage with what’s here! I don’t know where or how, but it’s amazing. This isn’t the kid I met about a year ago. He’s actually developing a sense of survival… even to the point of putting on sweat-shirts in the chill of the house instead of running to the thermostat! Interesting, to say the very least. So he cooked, we talked about all sorts of things. And in the midst of the conversation he mentioned covering the rent for next month (I’m supposing he’s actually planning on staying and not “ditching”… we shall see. I trust? NOT AT ALL! But we shall see. I still am in the mind-set of working at having the full responsibility for my shelter here… for how-ever long or short the time may or may not be.) At one point he mentioned that the cleaning is part of what I do for a living and then joked “It’s going to get to the point where, instead of sharing the rent with you, I’ll have to start paying you! And then it’s going to get to the point where I’ll have to fire you because I won’t be able to afford you!” He took the cleaning in good stride. I said “I think about you walking in here and seeing me going manic with everything and I’m wondering if you’re not thinking ‘Shit! He’s in here blown-away on coke!” “Oh no!” he said, “I wouldn’t think that… we can’t afford it!” And we both laughed. – As I say, it was good seeing him again… (That sounds terrible considering we’re supposed to be house-mates. But of late, it’s true: we see so little of each-other. Hell, maybe that’s the actual answer to the troubles we’d been having. I don’t know. But I’m honestly not thinking much about it at all.) – We started watching a video together. He’s trying his best to keep me “entertained” and some-how occupied with movies and such. (Yesterday he’d said “You need to LOOK at something! The radio isn’t working. You’re going to lose it one of these days! I can see it.”) At about 15.00 he was off and out the door into the bit of “misty” snow that was falling. Oddly, I find my-self concerned: It’s at times like this when I think of how this weather, this climate, is (as I said just this after-noon, standing on the back porch in the wind and snow, having a cigarette: “I’ve waited 30 years to come back to this.”) so comfortably familiar to me and he’s at such a disadvantage in it. (And to think, he’ll get no help from those worthless… mommies of his.) All I could say is: Drive carefully. And off he went. Me? I immediately went back to the cleaning… until just now. – 18.12 and I’m caught-up to right now. Maybe not as I’d like, but enough. Time to think about eating something and running out for smokes. The snow has stopped and the threatened “Cold” is rushing along, in from the West. Music… the collection of music from a time of intense Happiness… Montréal… plays on the iPod, in the living-room. The emptiness of this house lends a truly great acoustic. There’s a HUGE pile of clothing to be sorted and folded, on Silas’ bed. And the day-light is gone… On to the remainder! I’m a bit dozey right now… but that will soon pass into insomnia… in no time at all. – 19.06 Just back… WHAT A DELIGHTFUL STROLL! To the banque. To the Sunoco. If one need’s assurance that one lives in a small town: Two sets of foot-prints in the snow… BOTH of them, MINE! One going… One returning. – Brisk wind blowing in from the West. Very brisk, indeed! It slams on the bridge. And even though the snow is light, it’s comforting… to me anyway. And when I came back in? The house is only slightly warmer than out-side, but welcoming. And tonight, I walked in to “Sur le bord du lac”. Now THAT’S welcoming! – (Tomorrow is Viv’s birthday. Here I am, 2km from the border and can’t get to her. FUK FUK FUK YOU VERMONT!) – 21.04 Dishes in the machine, heat up. Minus 2 on the out-side. Just a bit above that on the in-side. And the snow just drifts about in the wind. WIND! As I say: When they said “Cold front” they weren’t just buggering the Bishop about. Yes indeed folk, Winter has slammed it’s way in. I just hope like all Heaven and Hell that the oil holds out for a bit. (40$ short of a delivery… and from the looks of it, that’s not coming in before the end of this week coming. Oh well. Tough times ahead. The weather forecast is for snow straight through the week. Homeless experience is about to come in VERY handy… indeed. Poor Silas…) – Well, the night passed. The winds blew harshly against the house. The laundry got folded and put up. Distracted communications with Nanc on Twtr. And more music down-loaded and waiting to be converted and put on the iPod. It’s cold in the house, but not uncomfortable. At least I’m not wearing the extra hooded sweat-shirts tonight. I put the electric heater under the thermostat. It reads 70F. But the thermometre in Silas’s room reads 60F. At least it’s saving on oil. – I’ve had 2 vodka-orange tonight and am feeling like going to sleep. AT LAST! SLEEP! May it come before 4am tonight. The insomnia is just about killing me these days. – I’m rather happy that I’ve found so much to “do” tonight with the 3 loads of laundry to fold. Next? Turning Silas’s room into some place that appears to be a place where some-one would actually want to be. Little by little. His talk about rent for Decembre gives me the incentive to keep going, to keep the place in order. It’s rather comforting… for the moment. Do I believe him? Do I trust him? Absolutely not! Bit I live each individual moment…to the best of my ability. – Tonight, I hope that I can get to bed and to sleep before 4 or 5am.

Sun. 25.Nov:HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIV! GOD! I MISS YOU SO, SO MUCH! I Hope, with ALL my Heart and Soul that you’re safe. –

2.13 and I;’m still awake. The dishes are done and drying in the machine. Silas’ laundry is folded and put up. The house is clean. It’s quiet. The snows have gone down to a mere flurry. It’s chilly in the house tonight. Not cold. Not un-bareable. But chilly, none-the-less. I don’t dare go down to the cellar to check on the oil level. I don’t need anything more to keep me awake tonight. I wanted to be in bed (cot?) before 4am. It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. No matter what I do, I can’t kill the insomnia! Maybe the insomnia will kill me. I don’t much care. Really. Just get me to the 21st. – Today is Viv’s birthday. I don’t know where she is, don’t know how to find her. But it would have been much easier on me if I could at least be at HOME today, maybe trying to locate her. It would be nice to be able to tell her just how much I do Love her. It would be wonderful just to see her and to talk with her. But… Vermont… this shit-hole of the entirety of everything Created, known and un-known, is making that impossible. Funny, but Silas leaves his passport about. Yesterday he jokingly said that he’s surprised I haven’t tried to get across the border using his passport. No. I’d much rather just cross, find a nice little knoll in the woods… and if that’s the way I’m to get HOME… that’s the way I’ll get there… and never leave. And so, that said… time to relax… maybe wind down. “Blackadder” on the video. Chilly in the house. May I relax enough tonight to get some sleep! – 16.44 and it feels more like 26.44, even though there’s no such hour. The sun’s gone down already and even though it’s still early, it feels as if I’m violating something by staying awake. Ah… the Winter. We should all be hibernating. I’ve always thought that… even though this is my favourite season. – Just finished watching “A Home At The End Of The World”. Not half bad. A bit like the book but not nearly enough. Then again, I’ve read the damned thing about 4-5 times. – And so, today went along the lines of getting up at 8.00 and distracting self from the cold in the house by getting into the iTunes thing again. There was music to convert, load and then… put the whole thing in some sort of order. Why? Just because it’s here and I wanted to. Distraction. I needed that. It’s cold in here and I don’t use the oil during the day. First of all because I, myself, don’t really need too much warmth and second of all, because if/when Silas gets back, HE needs the warmth. I grew up on the cold of Winter. No reason he should be blasted with it. So, just now, I stopped using the electric heater (I’d even brought the little one from my room into the living-room to keep the boiler from kicking) to give the place much needed warmth. Aside from that, it was a day of accomplishing nothing. Just, plain, simple, nothing. – Dinner (meal?) was a bowl of oatmeal and coffee. Wow, things are getting down to the bottom of the barrel. As I washed the bowl from dinner I thought: This week will be a whole month with no work! A whole month! I mean, really! How does anybody expect anybody to actually survive on this? And the application for help? How the hell can these agencies take so long? It’s not like I have a long history of asking for help. Of course, this is the biggest reason why I don’t: It doesn’t come. This time, how-ever, I’m not asking for help for one person… there are 2 of us in this house and I’m asking for my fair share of what I’ve worked 42 years for: my fair share of what I’ve worked for and paid into for 42 years. But it won’t come, won’t happen and it gets to me, especially tonight when it’s ever so cold, in here and out there. – The high temperature did get to about 1C today. The forecast for the week is snow… every day. I’ve got to think about how to get into BTV on Friday morning. If there’s snow on the roads, it’s not going to be easy. No tread on the tyres which means no traction… not to mention it’s illegal to operate a car that doesn’t have “Winter” tyres. My fortune? Tickets for the tyres and confiscation of the vehicle and more court dates that I won’t be able to make. Yup… I’m looking forward to this. – Next item: I HAVE to send word about not taking the room! I keep telling myself that, but never seem to get to it. I don’t want to get to it. But I owe those guys the consideration. Hopefully tonight… I don’t want to call, I’d rather send an e-mail. I’ll figure it out. – Jut as an “aside”: After 3 days of constipation, my stomach is kicking the rest of my body around all day today. Not so much the reverse of the constipation as much as too much gas! Just painful gas that won’t seem to stop. At one point I’d used the down-stairs loo and had to go up to my room… Just as I got to the first landing of the stairs… BANG! Had to rush along again. Finished, got what I’d gone up for and when I got back down-stairs, had to rush along again. Gas. I wonder what I’ve done to my body this time. – 17.02. Sunday is over (according to “business hours” time). I don’t know if/when Silas will be back tonight… that would be the “if” part. No matter. I’ll be fine… just fine. – 18.20 Just out of a hot shower and feeling “warm” for now. But just before the shower, went to the cellar… (OH NO! NOT THE CELLAR!) to check on the oil situation. Ah hah! Grim, indeed. As I calc it, there’s about another 12 hours’ worth in the tank, and that’s only if I keep the thermostat below 65F. Not a pleasant situation. The oil company won’t deliver any less than 50gals and that costs just about 40$ more than I can get my hands on. There’s been no word from Silas since about 21.30 last night, not that he can do anything about the oil situation tonight… nor can he do anything from where-ever he might be, the oil account is COD. Joy! Meanwhile, my application for assistance is in process… pending a report from the job which means going to BTV! – Oops… Silas has returned. Nope. Hillary. I’m almost relieved actually, because, as I’ve said, I think it’ll be easier for me to deal with this situation alone. Meanwhile… the CVOEO wants a form completed by the job, I checked on-line for “Emergency” oil and that requires a trip into St.A., the trip requires the use of the car, the car? Oh the car! There’s an “Emergency” telephone number to call after business hours, on week-ends and holidays but that doesn’t do me much good with a phone that functions only momentarily. (Of course, there are places in this State where there’s NO phone service at all… not to mention, no television unless it’s via cable. If this isn’t “rustic”, nothing is.) (Ah… Hillary… in the house… BANG! Honestly! Odd, but she seems more aware and considerate when she knows her little Silas is in…) Anyway, that’s the news for now. The kettle is on for something hot to drink. I’ll go scrounge to see what’s here to eat. The shower gave me a bit of warmth so all’s not completely lost. And tomorrow? Tomorrow I’ll just get on somebody’s neck and see what I can’t bleed out of them. The difficult part: the main lease isn’t in my name… it all gets so convoluted. But, the fact remains… Primary Lease-holder or not, I’m the one who’ll be in this house when the temperature drops below freezing… There. Said. And on to the next disastre… may I be only sarcastic and not prophetic. – 24.11 The day is done. I sit, watching a PBS video on the history of the Jews, and the house is all but bitter cold tonight. And this isn’t the coldest it’s supposed to get this week. There’s about 10gals of oil in the tank, just about enough to last maybe until tomorrow afternoon at the rate it’s going. And there’s just no way I can get a delivery. The plan for the morning is to try and arrange for crisis intervention. But I have no faith in those. I’ve learned from the past that, when somebody actually NEEDS the help, the help is either long in coming or doesn’t come at all. But, there’s the stupidity in me that makes me want to try. It’s a relief that Silas didn’t come back tonight. I know that he wouldn’t complain about the cold in here and the lack of oil for heat, but I know that I’d have to watch him try, with his all, to simply adjust, and I’d know that he’d be miserable. I’m not saying that I’m not miserable, but oddly, this is so reminiscent of my youth and going to the paternal Grand-parents, watching them hoard each little twig in the living-room where the fire-place was… the only source of heat in the entire house. I remember tonight, how cold it was going from the living-room just to the bath-room. And how cold the bed-clothes were in the bed-rooms. It doesn’t make it any more comfortable in here and it doesn’t really make it all that much easier to handle, but the memories tell me that I’ll survive. As I said on Twtr earlier this evening to Nanc: my greatest fear is that the house will cool to the point where the plumbing will be affected and that’s something I truly do not want and can’t afford. There are small area heaters, one in Silas’ room and the other in mine. Silas has a larger and better one. Mine is little more than a blow-dryer. There’s another in the laundry room, that was given to us from the landlord. It has to stay in that room because there’s little insulation and the majority of the plumbing is there… including the plumbing that goes up to Hillary. If anything happens to that, there will be Hell to be paid! Well, it’s interesting and I suppose, in its own way, a bit of an adventure. Meanwhile, I managed to shower this evening. The hot water felt wonderful. But I reserved that as well. I’m clean. I have my pajama-sweats on under my clothes so I’m not too badly chilled. (The heat just came on… the thermostat is set at 58F. The house is taking a chill tonight… and again… this isn’t the coldest it’s supposed to get this week.) I suppose this is the time to ask: Just how much more? But, if I actually ask, I’m sure I’ll be shown. And I don’t want that. – Time to post. – Once again, tonight, the insomnia. There’s much to be accomplished tomorrow. I need to be awake and alert. But I manged to get through Saturday with-out a nap and still couldn’t sleep more than about 4,5 hours last night. I managed to get through this day with-out a nap and that too, was on about the same sleep. Hopefully tomorrow, I’ll be able to do the same. – The heat feels wonderful… and as it warms me and the house, all I can see is the gauge on the oil tank… dropping. – I have to add, before closing, a thought that keeps running through my mind: On Twtr there are those who claim to help and those who ask for assistance. Of the people I’ve followed since my Shelter days, I remember seeing several people report of wonderful accomplishments: bills paid, services returned, and other little niceties. I wonder… I just wonder… why not me? One dollar from each person who follows me would give another ,25 tank of oil that would last until money comes in. I wonder: is this the way the World shows me just how insignificant I truly am? I wonder…

Mon.26.Nov: 7.54 The splendid news of the day: end of constipation. Woke to a rather comfy- warm room at about 7.15. That said… 10gals of oil in the tank (and I’m only guessing now because I’m not mentally prepared for the actuality) and it’s a most picturesque, postal-card, “Ah look at the photo on the wall calendar isn’t it beautiful” Wint’ry SNOW scene ALL around the bloody block!

SO! Here I am, watching the Town rumble by in plow-trucks and salters, like hurried little ants, scraping the streets in futile efforts against the forces of Nature. No oil. Too bloody early to ring the jokers and jesters at the “O Fukking Kriste I’ve No Heating Fuel And Will Soon Be Dead Of Hypothermia Please Hold Thank You I’ll Send You An Application For Assistance Good Luck Stay Warm” office. Both little heaters in the living-room to spook the boiler into believing the clime in the house is “Tropical”. And… well… having no idea where Master Bater might be this morn… AND feeling quite… quite… “Well gee, Chucko, tough nuts and all about being left alone in there but really that’s about all I can say at the moment.” I suppose I could use the “Pardon, but I believe YOURS is the ONLY signature on the lease for the premises making the safety of it… well… YOURS” card. And, I suppose I could be bitter and filthy-nasty when considering that Master Nastybater has the residence of “mommies dearest” in which to snuggle with food and warmth whilst here, in the North, I’ll run the bloody electric bill so high the power company will send a “Thank You for our most delightful Holiday Bonus cheques this year! Signed, CEO and ALL the employees”. – 8.50 at the computer in Silas’ room and the little thermometre on the desk indicates a balmy temperature of 57F. Delightful! Indeed. Meanwhile, the snows continue to fall and there’s been no word from “Our Boy”. I’m amusing myself with dialogues in my mind as to how a phone call to the “Crisis Centre” might go along… all conversations conducted in the voices of Monty Python. Is it hypothermia or simple madness? Not sure, really. Just not sure. But it does entertain and is a tad-bit amusing. – 11.37 There’s just ONE SPOT of something I think they call “blue sky” up there, out-side the window! Now for the bad news: It’s not aligned with the sun. BUT, on the “OK News” side, I’ve gotten through to UNNNemployment and FILED! FILED! FILED! BUT, on the “Not-so-OK News” side, there’s a 10-day wait for verification of information submitted, a 14-day wait for direct deposit AND this week no benefits. On the “This Is Totally Fukked-up News”, all of the “crisis” help folks are other-wise occupied and I have to wait for them to call me back. “Crisis”? Wait? (OMG! That “blue sky” thingie is getting larger!) WAIT? I wonder what part of “CRISIS” these people can’t seem to comprehend. Meanwhile, the little heaters are handling the house rather well… all things considered. The temperature in Silas’ room has soared to a tropical 60F! The temperature in the living-room (with thermostat) is an absolutely Equatorial 64F (and I believe the “F” is for “FukkingCOLD”)! On the “I’m About To Lose My Nuts” side of the news. I HATE waiting for somebody to “get back to” me “before the end of the day”. “End of the day”? Really? Like… END of the day being by 5pm at the end of the “business” day? Sun-down? Sun-set? Or end of the “calendar” day… like mid-night? Why not simply say “FukYOO!” and have done with it? – OK. Deeeeeeep, cleansing breath! Ahhh… I suppose I shouldn’t bitch so much. Consider: The first call to UNNNemployment went through at 9.34… followed by rapid re-dial (I BLOODYFUKKING HATE HATE HATE this piece of shit phone!) until 10.27. Not too shoddy. AND… LO! and BEHOLD! I actually had a connection through the ENTIRE call! Imagine that! Yes, just imagine it. SERVICE! SOMEbody’s made a terrible mistake today; it’s highly un-likely for Straight Talk to give “full service” on ANY day! MY GOODNESS (not that I have much of that left). – As a note, whilst I’m on the line: THANK THE HEAVENS (and other responsible entities) for NANC! I might be sitting here solo (might? AM! damnit!) but there’s something very comforting and consoling (SUN SUN SUN IT’S POURING THROUGH THE WINDOWS! Shshshshsh…. don’t anybody move or … yup… gone again. OK.) just knowing that she’s there, some-where. I don’t really know what I’d do other-wise. – Well… 11.04. No word from Master Bater. 2 folks from the local PO have passed the house already this morning. Looks like I’m on my own with ALL of this. Hey! If nothing else, it’s leverage. For what? I don’t really know. And it probably doesn’t make a damned bit of difference. But… the house is going straight to Hell and *I* am the one saving it… ME! ALONE! (And thankfully again, NANC knows… I feel like those Jews in the war camps: Somebody must survive to tell the story. Pfffttt!) – (Kriste this post just looks disgusting with all the “personalised” words.) – 13.25 I really have to laugh. It’s been one HELL of a morning! (By the way, the sun is brightly shining and pouring in through the windows as I type this. Imagine that! Fukme.) (I like that expression of late. And there are SO, SO MANY here in Vermont who are just SO WILLING! Most of them don’t even wait for the invitation. I’m SO in DEMAND!) Well then. I don’t recall just what it was that I was doing or going to do at the time, but I passed through the living-room and noticed that the little heater from my room wasn’t hissing at me. Nice. It’s actually cycling. WRONG! Upon closer inspection, the operational light was off! OFF? I tried the table lampe. Darkness prevailed. Next check, the router. POUF! There too, lightless. SHIT AND DAMN AND FUKME AGAIN! OK. Let’s be off to the cellar, find the circuit-breaker. Must be that. (Please?) And off and down the creaky wooden stairs and into the damp and dank and chilling cellar to find… INDEED! (I AM “THE” Fukking Genius du jour!) And a quick flip o’ the switch… Nope. Nope? Nope. The switch flipped itself right back. The little fukker refused to stay in the “ON” position! WTF? Hmmm…. No Internet. No WiFi. No light. NO HEAT! No shit. Perplexed, I headed back up the stairs to try and at least figure how to get ONE heater going, close enough to the thermostat to keep the boiler OFF! AH HAH! The dining-room (thank goodness for dining-rooms… and separate circuits) is on a difference circuit! SO! Move the heater to the dining-room. It’s close enough to the thermostat. And indeed, it was and it did and it was fine and God saw it and was pleased. And on the next moment, I rested. Next? Internet! Extension cord. I have ONE, just the one, in my room, and it proved to be completely worthless because the cable that connects to the router isn’t long enough. POO! I need a longer cord (longer IS better in this case). But where the fuk am I to find one of them? I’m in Shitzville here and the closest hard-ware is… well… Saskatoon! A quick text to Silas: Are U up North 2 day? RING RING goes the phone. “Hey. Wassup?” And then the REAL comedy commenced. OMG! (acronymically speaking) The JOB! The CAR! The accidents on the 89! The tragedies! It was (OK, as expected) just THE funniest thing! Here I’ve been, in this house, in the night, in the wind, the rain, the snow, the cold, the dark, making best of it all, surviving, going at it alone in a town that crawls up into its own bowels at the very notion of sun-set, no dependable vehicle in which to escape and HE has troubles. It’s very much like a combo package of “I’m going to hold my breath, pound my fists and stomp my feet!” and “Oh… I’m such an old woman with nothing to look forward to but breasts that will soon sag so low I’ll have to wear support hose just to keep from tripping on them.” Me? I find that rather entertaining… well, today I do. “We should just walk away from that damned place! Just go! Let Don come after us! He sits there smiling at me while he’s fukking me over! That place is a pit!” and other such things. Then a shrill “Shut the fukkup!” Oh, Greater Black Woman! I lost it! Laughed sincerely. It was cute. Then “What about that place that was supposed to get you some oil?” (Note: Get “YOU” some oil. Not “us” or “the house”… but “YOU”. Me. Alone. Solo. Just me. Hello?) He truly is amazing. Expects to get on the phone: “Hello? Is that the crisis help? Yes. I have a crisis. Oh, you’ll be right over? Awesome! Cheque? CASH? Yeah. Awesome! 5 minutes then? Awesome! bringing oil? Oh wow. Awesome! And 6-months rent? Hey! Awesome! Oh! Food and CASH? That’s awesome! I don’t have to get up from the chair? THAT IS AWESOME! OK. See you in 3 minutes. Awesome.” So, as this is all taking place, intermittently of course because shitATT and shitStraightTalk insisted that Silas and I shouldn’t be talking over their air-space and portioned the connection accordingly on and off, I got the notion to return to the cellar… there was a dead horse down there that required some kicking. And off down the stairs again. A push, a shove, a flip and… CLICK! We were back! Rapid trot up the stairs, plug in the table lampe, twist the little power switch and… LIGHT! Let there be light and there was light! And God looked upon the results of his labours and saw it and said it was good. And for the next moment he rested. Then he got to the phone and rang Silas back. “I should just go over to….!” &c. and such. “I was just about to call Don…” NO! NO! NO! Really. What the Hell would that accomplish? As soon as I said “We’re back in the light.” all went… well… “awesome”.. I had to laugh, just HAD to laugh. Silas is so quick to simply walk away from even the slightest indication that all things in Creation might not go the way he plans, wants, wishes. Meanwhile, I sit, calmly, bemused. A delight, to be sure. Well, the phone decided, once again, that our time was up. So, in the silence I decided that: When the weather gets fukking cold, BAKE FUKKING BREAD!

It’s not like we don’t need it. And thankfully, between the two of us here, we’re up to our nose-hairs in flour and yeast. So… TO THE KITCHEN! The heaters are now on separate circuits and running in splendour. The are a many-splendoured thing! A bit of Francis Cabrel (highly recommended for cold days and warm breads) and… at 14.00, the dough is rising in the warmth of a pre-heated oven, the kitchen is tidy and in order and I’m out of cigarettes and in want for a drink! – Just a publicly private not to the dear property owner here:
Dear Don and Connie, Greetings. Ah, if either of you had even the slightest clue as to what I keep protecting the both of you from. But it’s not important, really. What IS important is the fact that you allowed the boy to sign the lease… solely. What IS important is the fact that neither of you acknowledge my presence or existence and, I must say, I happen to be your greatest ally in this farce. But take no notice. I’m sure you won’t. I am the one with the temperament and the well-tempered temper and the experience of having gone through several tragedies and an equal amount of crises. But don’t get up. I’m not done here just yet. I’m the one who had handled, can handle and am handling the situation here at the house. YOU wanted somebody in here, to pay the rent, augment your pensions and income and what-have-you. YOU saw the poor guy coming and have, thus far, taken full advantage of him. Indeed, that’s how I see it from my perspective and I seriously doubt you could honestly deny that fact. But that’s not exactly the point. The POINT here is: I’ve managed to keep you from having to hear the frantic screams of the banshees at night. I’ve repaired plumbing and electrics since my arrival. Had I not, you’d be receiving multiple telephone calls, frantic voices over the line, at all sorts of hours. But you know what? You certainly must believe that I’m not doing this as your “friend”. I’m not even doing this as a caring individual. Well, not caring about you any more or less than you “care” about me. One of these days it’ll all come to the surface, just like shit in a cesspool. Will it make any difference? No. Only that it WILL stink to the highest Heavens and, in all likelihood, come raining down on you… and I shall laugh, gleefully delighted. –
And now, at 14.10, I have bread to knead. That’s it for now… For later? I’m not even going to bother thinking about that. – 19.14 I’ve just put the heat up as the thermometre in the living-room hits 60F and the one in Silas’ room drops to 57F. There is a story, a reason behind it… At about 14.00 today, Silas came to the house. It was amazing to see him! Truly. This time apart from each-other is refreshing, I think. It gives each of us time to think and to realise just what’s a stake here: a Friendship. But, what he did when he walked in was something that I never expected and will never forget… he handed me cash, 160 in cash! And with-out giving me a chance to speak he simply said “Call for oil. Will this give you enough?” Yes, the oil and the heat are for both of us, but the simple fact remains: He’d come in briefly just before and felt the chill in the air in the house. Apparently when I told him that I was braving the elements as a “North Country” person would, it must have hit him. I am alone in this house, something that he never adjusted well to when I’d go to work on the over-nights. This house bothers him. He says it’s too large, too empty, to alone. I, on the other hand, don’t mind being with “me”. The point is, and will remain, that something touched him. So tonight, with the little bit of oil in the furnace, I can afford to kick the boiler up a bit, for a moment, to bring some warmth. And I have Silas to thank for that. – The poor guy had to go back to Shelburne tonight to work. He’d just dropped in to change his clothes after delivering mail all morning. And he had to run right back out. Part of me accepts this as his “passage” into the realities of Independence. Yet, another part of me is very sad for him, particularly when he, in his rushing about said “Shit! The time is running out! I hoped to get a minute to just sit and relax!” Life shouldn’t be a series of rushing about. Yes, I did it for YEARS, but that doesn’t make it right for some-one else to have to do. It just doesn’t. – As soon as he left, I got my-self together to head out to the banque. I’d been holding onto the cheque from Nancy until it was absolutely necessary to use it. Well, it’s now necessary and it covers the difference between what Silas gave me and the minimum oil order… and then some. I got on the phone and placed the order. It’s a pleasure to talk with the woman at the oil company. She’s sweet. She knows me already. We chat a bit about the weather and the cost of fuel. We chat… I asked the cost for the minimum order for today (it fluctuates on a daily basis… of course) and when she told me, I OKed a minimum. But then I stopped, thought, calculated. I need to be certain that I can get into Shelburne on Thursday and then to Burlington on Friday morning and again Monday. There’s enough to do that AND throw in an extra 10 gallons of oil! I called back, changed the order. It’ll be delivered tomorrow! OK. So not tonight when I might need it. But the house won’t get so terribly cold with the little heaters (as I learned last night) and I can keep a bit of warmth in here during the day until the oil comes. I’m fine. – I actually felt GOOD, walking along the street to get to the banque! (Ah… 64F and that little bit has helped tremendously! And the boiler has stopped. OK then.) The sky was clear, the air was just a bit crisp. And I could see the tops of what Vermonters call “mountains”… the snows had already melted in the brilliant sun-shine. Down here, in the lower lands, the snow remains, but not at any particularly deepness. It’s fine, it’s OK, it’s tolerable. The day was a delight to be a part of, not just because of the oil, but I’d managed to bake 2 loaves of bread. Something to eat. – I have to journal my intense and eternal Gratitude today: Nancy, from across so many miles, has had faith in me, has taken me into her own Life, and has been such a Magnificent Gift! Especially now, at a time when the State of Vermont and all it’s minyans are of the belief that I’m nothing more than a common thief, somebody who needs to be prosecuted and persecuted, at a time when I’ve been attacked and accused by Silas (in recent past), at a time when Hillary too hasn’t even bothered to take the time to get to know even a little bit about me, at a time when Doug feels justified in treating me like some piece of worthless shit, after all the barrages of attacks over the past year, Nancy has given me what is, to me, the Greatest Gift, the one thing tantamount to all: Trust. There’s nothing Greater… to me. I know I’m worthy of people’s Trust. They don’t know that, and, for many, they won’t give me the time or the attention to learn that. It used to hurt me terribly when people would pre-judge me, or simply take the words of some-one else about me. Not so much these days… but just enough… just enough. Nancy took a Grand Chance and, well, I’ll never live long enough nor be able to do enough to thank her sufficiently. – And I have to say that I’m thankful and Grateful to Silas who showed his heart to me today. He cares, and that’s amazingly Wonderful! This one gesture makes “all” well. Even last night I thought of all that I did for him when I could and how it became hurtful when he simply tossed me aside when he was ready to simply pack the whole place in and go back to his parents. Well, today that seems to have changed. I have a bit of “worth” to him and, well, that gives me more courage than anybody can imagine. These tough times will pass and I will be at a place where I can do more. This, I know. Just let it be before… – This evening I also thought of how Silas is so responsible for something greater than even he can imagine. Perhaps it’s because I just finished watching a PBS presentation called “Empires: Kingdom of David”, the history of Jews, but it occurred to me that indeed, I AM VERY MUCH ISOLATED here, from the people, the People who have always meant so very much to me. It hit me that I’ve managed, like Jews in history, to follow the rules and laws set-down 5000 years ago, and that, in spite of everything that’s ever happened in my life-time, only once did I ever waver (when I watched my Mum suffer so much and then die). But even in spite of that, it all stays very much alive in me. And tonight, I owe so much of that to Silas who verbally slapped me into my own senses and sensibilities and, like the People of my history who were exiled and flung about the known World, I’ve managed to keep my Heritage alive. Thank you Silas. Thank you. – And now, 19.49 and there’s been no call from CVOEO. The 2nd and last time I phoned them I was told “Somebody will call you before the end of the day.” I could be an old man sitting here, alone, with no oil, no heat, perhaps lying in bed, drifting off in the on-set of hypothermia. They don’t care. They just don’t care. I’m Blessed… there are TWO who DO CARE! But this “crisis” intervention group? I’ll never forget this. NEVER! – 24.54 and minus 8 degrees. And time to get to bed (cot). The thermostat is set at 65F and is kicking the furnace infrequently. I’m glad. It keeps it a bit on the warmer side, though I’m still in 3 sweat-shirts. But I don’t much mind. And tomorrow, at some time, more oil will come. And I don’t much mind that it’s at “some” time. I now know how to keep from freezing. – Tonight, I go do sleep… hopefully… in a much better frame of mind: I won’t have to keep electric heaters running through the night to keep the house from freezing. – Today? I applied for and received Unemployment benefits. Something. More than I’m getting. I should have done this 2 weeks ago! Better late than not at all. And perhaps… I wonder… maybe I’ll hear from that fukking “Crisis Help” centre. I wouldn’t elevate them to the level of colonic bacteriae. – Goodnight…

Tue.27.Nov: 9.43 A bit more snow this morning. Still waiting for the oil delivery. I made the dread error of going to check the tank: Almost completely empty! Thermostat set at 62F. I’m running the electric heater only in Silas’ room this morning because that’s where I am and it’s rather chilled in here. – I can’t explain why, but this morning, there’s a sense of “Dread”. Maybe it’s because of the coming days: Thursday morning I have to be on a bus out of St.A. at 7.30. Then, on Friday, on the bus at 6.30. That “Dread” comes from thinking about driving on bald tyres on what might be icy roads. Not to mention, being stuck in BTV those days until 17.00 and getting back up North at 18.30 and having to drive, in the dark, on what might be icy roads. I don’t think so much in terms of injury to me as much as injury to others… and… if anything happens to that car, I’m screwed beyond repair. There’s no other way for me to get back and forth now. Silas works at night, stays with his mommies. There’s absolutely no way I could stay there (they hate me… and that’s been confirmed). Oh well. There’s really nothing that can be done about it so may as well just go along with what-ever the World will dish out. – A note: Yesterday, walking up the hill to the house, in the snowy sort of scenery, I thought “I want to go NORTH!” It’s the thought that comes every year at this season, and when there’s snow on the ground. And then, I had to chuckle just a bit because, in reference to NYC, I AM “NORTH”! 2km FROM HOME, NORTH! (Of course, then, as usual, the knife-sharp pain that comes when I realise: 2km from HOME and I CAN’T get there! Followed by the anger and bitterness.) It’ll be interesting to see what happens when Winter actually arrives. – I wish the damned oil delivery would get here! I can’t complain, really. The company is small and their rates are very reasonable (in today’s economy). And they cover a large area, one guy delivering. Still… – AND… this morning, 102FM from Tel Aviv on the speakers. Hebrew! That’s something I didn’t think I’d ever hear again! I miss it. I miss being able to speak it. I miss my Saturdays at synagogue. I miss my People. – Oh, and still no call-back from the “Crisis” people. THIS is unforgivable and unforgettable. – 15.03 OIL!!!!! The OIL arrived! 222$ brought it up to 3/8 tank (60 gallons from just about EMPTY!). I’m thrilled and then… I refuse to burn 10gallons each day so, the thermostat went up for a bit to take the cold out of the walls and it will soon go back down to about 65. I’ve rather gotten used to the chill these days. Ah… isn’t is grand to be back up North again? – 22.02 I’d expected to be in bed and asleep by now! Tomorrow morning I’m getting up at about 4.00, and won’t be napping during the day to exhaust myself so that I’ll get to sleep early (HAH!). I HAVE to be UP at 4.00 on Thursday and again of Friday and all this insomnia bull-shit has GOT to go! – It’s been quite the day, all told. And I’ve kept occupied for most of it. The one thing that bugs the shit out of me (and more on that) is that, the two times I sat to watch a video, like all the other times, I dozed off! Just went into some sort of REM-thing where I heard the audio but the video played in my sleep! It’s not that I’m that tired. I’m thinking it’s depression. Clinical. – In other news: Two calls from Silas. Much about his insurance not wanting to cover the incident the other day (the car door is destroyed!) because of a “lapse” that they reversed and because he told them he was delivering parcels (he’ll never learn to just shut up!). Much more about two job offers, PO, one in Shelburne, which he wants, and the other in E.Fairfield, which I believe he’d enjoy much more but he worries about the wear on the car. Then it went into how much the cost of this house is running and how he “knows” that Don and Connie are just abusing the both of us because they know how much it would cost THEM to maintain the place during the Winter and they want US to pay! Now he wants to look for a place (for BOTH of us together) where the heat and such are included for the same rent. Me? I’m back to gut-wrenching (for this reason and the coming days of wondering if the car will make the trip to the bus and back and the thought of being “trapped” in BTV for entire days in the cold, and not wanting to be there in the first place and the Court bull-shit). So much so that right after I ate dinner (steamed veggies and a bowl of breakfast cereal), I HAD, HAD, HAD to RUN to the toilet! Diarrhea! Quite bad… twice! Oh well. I rang HISC today to say that I’m available. Robin tells there’s nothing in the county but there are two new clients in the works. She’ll pass along the word. Meanwhile, I’ll have to figure out how to be getting to work (IF I actually get the work at TeddyBear) and what shift. Silas said that I should try for his hours and he’d arrange to drive back and forth for the both of us. I don’t believe that for even a half moment. But… nothing is set until Thursday where that’s concerned. – I’m feeling quite a bit like Moses these days, with the talk of moving: I’m 2km from the border and yet, I can’t get HOME. Moses got all the Jews to “The Promised Land” and then was told he could look at it, see all of it, but would never be allowed to entre. I’m fed up with this. Truly just completely fed up. There’s a “battle” coming that I didn’t start but I WILL finish… one way or another… their way or MINE! (I’m thinking more along the lines of MINE.) – Oh, then comes the Silas bit: He again claims that he can’t afford to cover the rent for Decembre. Says he’s going to give Don a cheque for 400 and if there’s any trouble, remind Don that the “last month’s rent” is paid and that if he wants to pursue the matter legally, he (Silas) will go that route. (I believe it’ll be more like *I* will have to be the one… even though the lease doesn’t have my name on it.) I mean, shit! Unemployment will be coming in (AGAIN! ALL THINGS HAPPEN JUST A MOMENT TOO LATE! FUK.ME!). But, as is the usual venue, Silas takes the mentality of a pre-pubescent brat and bolts into irrational decisions. It worries me. – Well. So much for this day. – There’s oil in the tank, but I’ve set the thermostat for 68F today, just to get the chill out of the house. Tonight, back down to 62F (if not 58F). I’m NOT going to watch this tank go to empty again, and there are much colder nights to come! On Thursday, I’ll stop at the office to give them the form that needs to be sent in for fuel assistance and rent assistance. I’m not counting on this bloodyfukking state to do shit for me. In one respect I know better than to even think in those terms and in another, let’s just look at the “Emergency”/”Crisis” help I still haven’t received! Honestly! Meanwhile, there’s just enough of a chill in the house to warrant extra sweat-shirts, but NOTHING like the past few days! Although I’m noticing, as I sit at Silas’ desk, there’s a definite draft that comes in here from some-where. No wonder he closes him-self in the room, doors shut. I hope he does use the electric heater when he’s here. (His room is a delight. He even THANKED me yesterday for cleaning it up! His bed’s been made for days and the floor was mopped round the rug… for what?) – During the day, on and off, I managed to add more music to the iPod! Vaughn Monroe, Spike Jones, Three Suns, 40’s, very early 50’s and some 70’s. My music collection is returning… slowly. I wish I could remember all that I had. But there’s “1,5 days” worth on there at present. One of these days I’ll have to see about arranging it better. There are directories, but the music is just in there. Still… I’m relieved to have what I have and I thank Schmulik for the iPod. When he gave it to me he said “You NEED MUSIC!” Sweet man. I have to get in touch with him too! – I have to jot an e-mail to Nanc before heading to bed tonight. Oh! And there are dishes in the sink that MUST be done BEFORE the end of the day. – One smoke left in the pack. Too late to go out for any… and just a bit too cold (for me right now… after the diarrhea and such). So… it’s time to wrap this up. – One more note to me: Hillary… KRISTE! She stomps heavily when she moves about up there! It makes the floors down HERE vibrate! She didn’t do that when she knew Silas was here. Hmmm… idiot. – And that’s that for this. I’m posting.

Wed.28.Nov: 20.06 And here I sit, typing away, here and on Twtr. I should have my old arse in the bed in preparation for tomorrow’s 4am wake-up. But no… Besides, as I’d noted earlier: ”17.35 There are times when the World appears to be consumed with pure Hate, and right about now, it seems it’s vomiting it’s hatred for me: It’s snowing!” and it hasn’t quite stopped as yet. Not a heavy snow. Just enough to make the roads as slippery as they possibly could be. If this is what it looks like at 4.00 when I wake, I’m not going to the bus to go to BTV to catch another bus to Shelburne to go get that job! It’s not the busses part that bothers me, but I have absolutely NO tread on ANY of the 4 tyres on the car! NONE! Not the best idea to be driving up and down the hills and dales on those things. Of course, I sat here earlier thinking: Why bother putting 400$ into tyres on a car that might just be snatched away from me at any given moment when I could (if I had) put that money into a car that I could call “MINE”! and be done with it? Now, if only to get the money to get the car to get the hell along with my life. But… the day went rather well, all told. And here we go with it: Indeed, I forced me to get out of bed this morning by 7.00 and got right along with the tasks of the morning, opening blinds, having coffee, scrounging for a cigarette, giving up on trying to find a smokeable butt and getting me semi-dressed and strolling down to the store. I have to admit, it was a really nice stroll at that, crisp morning air, clear skies, empty town (of course). And it made the temperature in the house feel all that much warmer when I came in! Charming, to be sure. – Since it was too early to do much else, worked on the music a bit more and grabbed a few more tunes. And then, it was “Business Hour”! and to “Business” I got. – I need to get a form in to the office for all the “assistance” I’m applying for (and certainly not planning on receiving, based on current events) and to my amazement, I found it right away! Even got to play with the scanner attached to the computer and made a copy of a form! So proud of me. So that’s all together and waiting for the morning. The next in line was to make a line (or 3) on the oil tank. Down to the basement to measure the tank and mark-off the quarters and half (nothing like being “half tanked” I thought in the nasty damp chill). It won’t do anything to save oil, but at least I’ll have a better idea as to how long I’ll have before hypothermia takes me out. Or, maybe, if he ever goes down there and looks at the damned thing, it’ll give dear Silas an idea as to what those little numbers on the gauge actually mean in terms of how much oil is NOT in the tank. Not that I really want him to even think about it. The less he knows, the better for the world. – Next line of business: get a damned jacket out of the packed clothes for the cold weather. Tomorrow (should I actually make the trip) will be me roaming about the county, taking busses and waiting for busses, standing on road-sides and the likes. Imagine this: the best jacket I have is the one Fran gave me… it was Bob’s. Part of me is thankful to her, part of me is thankful to him, and then the realities of the whole situation came crashing down on me: the sleepless nights, the searching on the web and pulling my name to the fore-front, the talking to all sorts of people including the kids about stuff that a responsible adult would let slide (or journall… on the Internet?). I suppose I should have some remourse… but I don’t. Cruel? Perhaps. But that’s how I’m feeling these days. – Had a thought too: IF Don comes to me to say anything about Silas and his rentscapades, the truth and fact is that my name doesn’t appear on any of his or their papers. So, the whole situation is none of my concern and I’ll simply point that out to him. (Not to mention what I learned later today from Hillary about “things said”.) Me? I’m just going to go on about by own business and take care of my own matters. Period. That’s how it is… I wanted to co-sign the lease but between Don and Silas, I didn’t even get to hold a damned pen on lease-signing day. Little did I know then what I know now: a blessing in disguise in the kitchen. – NEXT! Got the kitchen together. The mail arrived! And in it was 3 enveloppes… for ME! Unemployment forms and info and other wastes of money in postage and ink and paper. It said something about registering with VTDoL! WELL! As Fate might have it when it err and does something “right” by me, I just happen to have that registration! It was the first thing I did when I got to this “Land Of The Forsaken”. So I bopped on-line to check and modify and point and click and tap and type and there I was! All nice and up-to-date! THEN I looked more and longer at the “info” on paper. They didn’t include ANY of the income from the HISC job! WTF? (as ’tis typed) THAT would bring my rate UP a bit more! SO… I rang… well… I tried… several times… shit service on the phone. Finally, when the connection went through? “Please hold…” ladeedahtralaladeedahdahdumdumdumdeedah… hold! Hey! I manged to sew the gloves back together whilst I waited… er… holded. Multi-tasking. Thank goodness for “Please hold”. AND… today I learned how to take the phone off “Speaker” whilst some-one was speaking. So it wasn’t a complete loss. How-ever, the non-accounted-for income? “Oh. That’s from the quarter that we’re not using to calculate your benefits.” Bull-shit! July-Sept! Bull-shit! In this economy!? Well, there was no sense in taking any offence and so I just let it ride. Then I verified that my DoL do was valid and the nice lady said “Yes. You’re kosher.” I almost plotzed! Told her that I was amused and she said “It was something about your name… I LOVE IT!” (Second person that’s said that. I believe they’re clueless but then… I don’t care…) – Well, I felt accomplished. Shot off an e-mail to VTB to confirm tomorrow’s appointment and about an hour later got a phone call (that didn’t ring through but I got the message). Confirmed. OK! I was off an trotting about the place! – Today… today… today… for the first time in several days, I actually went up-stairs and shaved the scruff off my neck and THEN… SHOWERED! (It’s not so much the depression thing as it is that I don’t want to come out of the shower and feel the cold in the house. Besides, for the past several days, it’s been entirely too cold in here to get wet.) The shower felt SO delicious! And today, even now, I feel like a different me! CLEAN AGAIN! (I threw all the things I’d been wearing for the past few days right into the washer! Not that they needed… yes they did!) – Came to be about 15.00 and there was a knock on the door. Imagine this: Hillary! “Where’s Silas? Is he ever coming home again?” (Well! Then she tells me that she’s been sending him text messages all week and he hasn’t responded!) But the real reason she came by was because Silas used to have a bag of cat food in the house (the days of L’ti’chat) (come to think of it… she and Gosse haven’t been seen in months! If anybody harmed either of them and I find out, there WILL be DEATH in this fukking town!) and she’d run out. The cat food was tossed ages ago, I think in one of Silas’ rages to leave. BUT… I got the chance to TALK WITH HILLARY today! Interesting talk too. Seems she agrees that when Silas returns from BTV he’s generally miserable. She say it’s because, when he was young, Gwen wouldn’t let him do anything… because he’d do it wrong. Insight! We chatted about how I’ve been working towards giving him self-esteem. She seemed to appreciate that. I mentioned that he’d mentioned that she “hated” me and she informed me that she didn’t at all. So, once again, proof: More animosity is bred from people listening to other people and not talking with each-other. We talked about the cold in the house. She’d told Silas that the house gets bitter in Winter. Another point he chose not to listen to. But she told me that she keeps her place at about 58F or so! When it gets too cold, she turns her music on and dances! We both laughed when I told her that I do the same thing! But I was concerned about disturbing her. She said she hears nothing coming from here, in fact, she was wondering if I’d died in here. Said she’d even checked the car and found it un-locked and really got concerned. (Of course, she never came by…) Anyway, much was settled and brought to light. I showed her Silas’ room. She said she’d NEVER seen it this way (orderly and clean). And then she started to leave to go to the market to see if she could get a tin of cat food or something for Wally. Suddenly, I recalled some tins of tuna that may have been in the cup-board and on investigating, found 2 tins of cat food which I gave her. She was thrilled and so thankful! Well… unless I was going to eat it, it would have stayed there. Hillary was off to home. – Tonight, I hit the cup-board for dinner. Found 2 open boxes of pasta and a tin of cream of mushroom soup. DINNER! Filling. Warming and wonderful. – And so, 20.00 and a few Twts with Nancy tonight. A delightful way to bring the day to a close. Always. – 22.35 SNOW SNOW AND MORE SNOW! I’m all but resigned: There’s no way I’ll make the trip into St.A. tomorrow for the bus. NO WAY! At one point, earlier, 2 cars went sliding down Town St. Since I’ve NO tread on the tyres, there’s NO way I’ll be able to even get out of town! Down-hill to the Main St. and then UP-hill to get out of town. No tread? No traction. And I MUST MUST MUST make the trip into BTV on Friday… for the fukking Court. So? I lose a job. But there’s the possibility of the over-night shifts coming. Possibility. – It’s late. I’ve got Netflix running as I type. “The Blue Planet”. A BBC series. Oceans. Water. Just what I need tonight. – Thermostat set at 16C tonight. It’ll be a long while before the next time oil gets put into that tank. But… 16 isn’t all that bad. – Well, post this and off to the bed. I’m exhausted!

Thu.29.Nov: 7.20 I woke at 4, looked at the streets. They hadn’t been plowed yet, but under the snow I could see the glistening reflections: ICE! I put my head back on the pillow and drifted a bit as my stomach began, in earnest, to grumble and growl. I need this job! But there was no way that I could even entertain the notion of making the trip, in the car, to get to the bus. If I knew, if I could be guaranteed nothing less than quick death, I’d venture out, even drive the full distance to VTB. But I doubt I’d be so blessed and end up on the road-side, blown head gasket or flat tyre. I don’t so much mind the cold in the house, but standing road-side? Very different. – The house is cold this morning. 16C and yet, quite cold. Grey skies. A quick check of the weather report for tonight: Snow again. Well, tomorrow will be quite interesting, indeed. I’ve no choice in the matter. Then Sunday’s forecast is snow and freezing rain! Now MONDAY will be the challenge. I’ve GOT to be back in BTV by 8.30. – I put in for some over-night work in Williston next week. I have NO idea how I’m going to get there for the 2 nights. There’s no public transport in either direction. So far, the best case scenario: Take the bus down Thursday morning, hang for the day some-where, work until the Friday morning and hang for the day until the 17.00 bus back North. Then comes the issue: No public transport on Saturday! Honestly? This morning I just don’t have the stamina to deal with it. – But I’ve been up from since 4, will not nap during the day, WILL be in bed by 20.00 and tomorrow morning? I’ll get up at 4, be out of the house by about 5, take me sweet time getting to the bus… and see which one I manage to get: the 6.30 or the 7.30. Damned shame the way these busses run round here. Not to mention, there’s a rail line from St.A. through BTV. Vermont should be using that! – Time to make this day productive. I’m glad Silas isn’t here this morning. His room is quite chilly and I’m certain he’d be whining about it. – Ah… then tomorrow… the end of the month. Another something to ponder: Rent. – 10.19 The snow is still falling. The thermostat is set at 16C/62F and it’s chilly as all Hell in here this morning. So too, my general state of mind. It’s so quiet, and I’m enjoying that part tremendously. But with the snow falling, I’m incredibly anxious about tomorrow’s drive into St.A. With regard to getting back to work, I’m anxious about how to manage that. There’s the oil situation: can’t afford to keep the boiler running, but can’t afford to keep heating with electric either. Then there’s the fact that tomorrow is the last day of this month and rent will come due… I’ve blown all my resources paying electric and oil bills. Silas is working all those hours and is never here any more and I’m just waiting for the moment when he just comes along and says “I’m OUT!” (Of course, there’s the sensibility that Don and Connie will go after him for the remainder of the lease… and even Silas agreed that it’s better to BE at a place one pays for than to pay for it and not BE in it. Even though that’s pretty much what he’s doing lately.) Today is the day that it all comes crashing-down on me. But then again, that’s this morning and this moment. As I always say: This too shall pass into an insignificant past. – I’ve decided to open my mouth (pen? key-board?) on the Court issue and have begun posting bits to Twitter. I’m fed-up now beyond words. I could be working some-where but can’t because of back-ground checks. I could have been working regular hours, in brief walking distance from the house, at the PO, but NO! The back-ground check and the Court shit! I could be talking strolls up to Abercorn or Sutton on days off. But NO! Can’t get across the border! One thing just came to mind though: The Days Inn will be paying into my unemployment now. Let them try and fight that! They still owe me for the 8 hours on 29 July! I wonder about that… Perhaps something else to pursue today. – Well, time to get up, get busy, get moving, maybe get dancing! WARM-UP! – OH! At 23.26 last night, Silas rang! (And just as I type this, the phone rings again… I don’t want to talk with him. I don’t know why, exactly. But I just don’t. It’s one of those conversations I have with my-self concerning the conversation we might have. I don’t need anymore depression. – Voice mail: “Just calling because I’m worried about you. Not really. I’m more worried about me.” Yup. This is how it’s going to be going. Good thing the call came… Changed my mood… Bitter.) – 14.53 THE FRIGGIN SNOW IS NON-STOP! There hasn’t been a plow since about 5.00 this morning. The drive is disappeared. But… a call from Silas: GOOD MOOD! Imagine that! Odd… but hearing him in a good mood put me in a better mood. Not that I’m in any kind of moos that could be called “good” at this point. All I keep thinking about is tomorrow morning! If this doesn’t stop, there’s no way in Hell that I’m going to be able to make it to the COURT! SHIT! I’m just hoping that, since this IS “The North Country” and all that shit, that there’s some kind of leniency allowed for being TRAPPED against one’s will by the forces of Nature. If not? Then not. I can’t risk getting out there and hitting another vehicle or person! (No insurance? Helloh!???) And with my “fortune” from since I arrived here, that would be just the thing that would happen… better yet, it would happen HERE, in town! No escape! Well, right now there’s nothing I can do about tomorrow except make sure that I’m ready for any event. (I HATE watching cars go by with their Winter tyres!) – This morning… just about ALL of this morning, I diverted my attentions into the damned iPod again. Now, all the music has dates of release. Oh wow. Like that makes any difference. It’s not like I’m actually getting to hear any of it these days. But it passes the time and I thought that washing the floors, with the heat down to 16C probably isn’t in my best interest. (It is rather chilly at 16… and to think, in July and August, we prayed for that temperature.) Of note: Talking with Silas did warm me up a bit. And moving about the house helps tremendously. Maybe it’s time to “face the music and DANCE”! But I have to get out of here for a bit. I need to get some food in here! At some point, I was hoping to try my way into the gas station too. When I get out, I’ll check the streets or… as soon as the plow goes by I’ll make a RUN for the station! But for now… time to get me a move-on here. It’s a fukking shame: I always look forward to this time of year and days like this just fuk me over. How BLOODY TYPICAL! – Make the best of it… At least Silas is in a pretty good mood… gone into work. And he says he’ll be back on Saturday night. OK. Ok….. – 20.13 and there is some good news, some not-so-good news and some news that truly is enough to make me want to just walk out the door and off the bridge (which wouldn’t be such a bad idea if the bridge were higher and the water deeper or the rocks larger). And then there’s the fact that I’m tired… hopefully enough to go to bed and fall asleep until 4.00. Now, where do I begin? – The day went along rather quickly. I don’t really know where the time goes, especially when it gets to this hour of the night. One might think that I sit, whiling-away the hours, but I don’t. What I DO is a mystery, even to me. But… I managed to occupy the day with something. The important thing? THE DRIVE IS SHOVELED! IMAGINE ME! I DID IT! – And a call from Silas… I took one of the several he made. The door on the car is replaced. It’s maroon. It’s not new. And it’s costing him 1040$! Well? Call me cruel but, I’ve no doubt he wasn’t paying attention when he was driving, and, well, here’s another of “Life’s” lessons he’ll learn…or not. He got into the job at the PO and how things are looking rather well for him with other offices. He’s still bent on the spot in Shelburne though. I think being up here scares the shit out of him and he doesn’t want to be left alone in this house again, should I head off to working nights again. Alas… and Oh well. But he was in great spirits again. So that was a delight! – It must’ve been about 15.30 when I headed out the door. The original intention was to try and get the car down to the gas station, put in some fuel for the morning drive. But that went a bit astray when I got out there and saw that the drive really did need to be shoveled. So… I digressed. I needed cash for gas, so I strolled to the banque and got that, but, whilst there, BRAIN-STORM! SHOVEL! CHEAP! Dollar General MUST have CHEAP snow shovels! After all, this is VT and this town is shit-soaked-flat-out-down-to-the-britches BROKE! The only way to find out? GO! And go I did. It was a rather nice stroll too. And sure enough, when I got to the store… 10$! Hey! I needed the shovel. It was there. It wasn’t 30 or 40$ And so, with shovel over shoulder, along Main St. I strolled to return to the house and get to work! Fortunately, the snow that was falling all day was dry, so the shoveling went easily. It’s a rather large drive, not so much the length but the fact that it leads to a 2-car garage and there’s space for 2 more cars to park in the yard. (Usually, Hilary takes one and I take the other. Silas parks in or in front of the garage.) I got to the house, dropped some things that I’d brought along in the living-room and WENT TO WORK! iPod a-blaring in my ears and the work went right along… nicely too. Just one glitch: by the time I’d done with all the shoveling, the sun had disappeared and… MORE SNOW was falling! Well, it all looked a LOT better than it did before I’d gotten to it. I was rather pleased. And then came THE EVENT of the night: The car. Oh, it started quite alright. A little hesitation but nothing too unusual. I got it running, put it into gear and away I went, out the drive and toward the smaller hill that would bring me onto the more “main” street… AND THEN IT HAPPENED! I COULDN’T STOP!!!!! Nope. As I’ve been saying all along, there’s NO TREAD AT ALL on the tyres and tonight was more than the proof of that! I veered to the left and as the car turned round, facing back up the hill, I gave it just enough gas to get it going… back up the hill and to the drive. It wasn’t pretty at all. It wasn’t even slightly comical. And then, a major slide into the drive and ALMOST RIGHT INTO THE GARAGE… THROUGH THE CLOSED DOOR! Nope. There’s no way at all that that car was going any-where tonight. When I finally stopped, I decided to garage it for the night, still hoping that the streets will be clear enough to drive on tomorrow morning. There was yet another adventure. The car is now in the garage, at an angle. It SLID into the garage! And when I looked at the tracks it had made in the snow that’s left on the drive, there’s NO sign or indication of tread AT ALL! AND THE SNOW CONTINUED TO FALL!!!!! So, I just gave up on the idea of gassing tonight and came into the house. – How wonderful to have worked-up a sweat! Even at 16C/62F the house was entirely too warm. I was amazingly comfy! So I grabbed a tin of soup from the cup-board, got it together to call a “meal” and settled-in for a bite to eat… whilst watching RDI, the French news station from Québec! On the computer! How WONDERFUL! – Just as I got in from shoveling, Silas phoned. A brief call. but he said he’d mentioned me to one of his co-workers who claims she remembers me and likes me. (Right). I told him I’d received an e-mail asking if I’d re-sched my appointment for today. And then he got another call. Eating(?) done, I peeked out the window again. The plows hadn’t been round since this morning. But then, at about 17.30, there they were! Not that it does any good for me. Under the snow is ICE! And if that doesn’t go away, between the new snow that will, no doubt, fall tonight and the freezing temperatures (15F at about 19.00) I figure there’s NO WAY I’m going to make the trip to the bus to the court in the morning! WHAT WHAT WHAT THE FUK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW? – Well, I tried phoning the lawyer to leave a message (I knew there’d be no-one there at this hour). The phone FUKKED! Cut me off, wouldn’t let me push the extra numbers. Just a piece of SamsungShit! I think I managed to get a message through… in 2 parts. Then I went frantic, searching the Internet to see if I could learn what happens if I miss an appearance. I mean, tomorrow is only “Jury Picking Conference” or some such bull-shit. But this being Vermont, I’m positive the people involved will turn this into THE FIASCO of the entire millennium! the way they’ve turned the whole incident into something “news-worthy” and all. I want to puke! I WANT to be dead come morning. But I did what I could and that’s about all I can do. – 21.13 and again, I’m later than planned. The snow’s have stopped at last. I have the heat up to 18C warming it up before bed. A few dishes and I’m done. Not matter what, tomorrow I have to get the garbage out in the morning. And, if the streets are REALLY CLEAR, I’ll give it a shot. But for now… I’m really exhausted. – Oh, no no Nanette tonight. And all the comments I asked for on Twtr?TWO replies. People are shit. – I’m going to post this now and head to the cot……. I miss the little time with Nancy though.

FRIDAY 30 NOVEMBRE 2012 16.10
Fri.30.Nov: 4.33 It was a horrid night last night. I got to bed at about 22.00, after all sorts of anguish and anxieties about this morning, wondering if the roads would be any better, wondering what sort of reply I’ll get from my messages to the attorney about not being able to make it to court this morning, wondering if I might actually be able to make it, thinking about the fact that I’ve tried everything possible to make this move, this living in Vermont a pleasant thing… just wondering… and being severely disappointed. And then it began: the phone started ringing, repeatedly. 22.11, 22.25, 22.26, 22.27, 22.34, 22.24! Silas! I’d sent him a few messages, knowing that he wouldn’t get them until after work: 19.15, “Good news drive shoveled by me. Not good news more snow.” “Really bad news I cant get to court. NO traction on car AT ALL.” “Slid into driveway across the st going down Church to Province. Slid coming back to house.” “I left voicemail for my atty. Will call the court in the morn. (BENCH WARRANT no doubt oh well)” But seriously; why would he just keep calling? Did he even consider coming all the way back up here last night? Or worse, this morning? All I knew was, I was about to drift into sleep and the phone wouldn’t STOP! I got to use one of the functions on the phone (another lesson in phone): Block. I don’t know that it did work and I don’t know that it didn’t, but the phone didn’t ring again all night… and soon, I was “out” and asleep. – This morning, now, as I sit at the computer at 4.45, I’ve sent an e-mail to the Public Defender’s office, attention to the atty. I don’t know that it’s gone to the proper place. I don’t know that it’s gone any-where. In this State I’ve learned that NOTHING is as it seems and NOTHING is as it SHOULD be. But, voice messages and e-mail. What more… oh, there’s no sense in even asking that question. I’ll ring the office at 8.30 and tell them, listen to somebody “sing a sad song of misery and woe (is ME, and probably them too)”. What is done, is done. The streets are a mess this morning. Town was plowed and salted but the snow melted and then, during the night, froze. Church was lightly plowed and the packed snow has frozen. There is, in reality and truth, no way that I can leave here in the car. “It’s all down-hill from here.” and that’s quite the truth. And not in a good, or convenient way. No doubt a Bench Warrant will be issued this morning. No doubt at all. Well? There’s another appointment on Monday. There’s nothing that can be done about it. And, again, I resign myself to the simple fact that: Here, in this God-forsaken, miserable State, those with any authority to do anything ridiculous, those with any means to make another person’s existence a pure and putrid misery will do all they can, and then some to ensure the worst for another. I love the land here. I love the weather here. I love this house. I even love looking forward to going out this morning to re-shovel the drive. As Margot put it: The World really is a beautiful place… People make it miserable. And here, in Vermont, that couldn’t be any more true. – The heat keeps kicking up. I checked the weather report: -14C/7F this morning. For me, other-wise, this would be MAGNIFICENT! I’ve waited for this weather, and looked forward to it. Here it is. But, as “Life” and “Fate” would have it, I’m denied the privilege of enjoying it. – OK. Not true. It’s all a matter of my perception. If I choose to simply compartmentalise the day, the matter of the “Courts” will be put where it belongs and the weather? I’ll enjoy it to the maximum! And enjoy it I shall. – Meanwhile,, there are floors to be cleaned, some laundry to be done, drive to be shoveled a bit and who-knows-what more to fill my day. (Now, if only to keep the boiler from kicking-up every 5 minutes. There’s another tid-bit du jour: Check the tank. I don’t want to, but I should. Silly… no matter how much oil is in there, knowing/not knowing makes no difference. It is what it is, will be what it will be. I’m just a damned glutton for punishment… Again: Perception. Thermostat set at 16C, 3 sweat-shirts…) We’re ready to ROCK’N’ROLL! And it’s just 5.00. – Oh… Silas is UN-blocked again this morning. I wonder what kind of message/response he got when he rang, as I know he did, through the night. – As I once said, long ago and far away: KADIMA! –

There really isn’t much more to say. I mean, I don’t know WHAT to say. I didn’t make the Court appearance, waited all day for somebody to call to say “Bench Warrant”. At 15.43 a voice-mail from Chris, garbled beyond description. All I got out of it was “call the office this afternoon”. I waited a bit, mustering up enough of a dissociation to be able to handle what-ever it was that was coming. After a few moments I went numb, which is usually what happens. I rang back. “You’re free. You can get on with your life.” I stood against the wall in the living-room and went speechless, then wanted to sob, then… went into nothing less than shock. When the conversation was finished, I IMMEDIATELY sent a text to Nancy, then to Silas, then ran over to Hilary. I even RANG Nancy! I HAD to tell HER… RIGHT AWAY! It’s 4.41 and I’m still in unadulterated shock. Just shock. Just… shock. – 16.41 Hilary just left for the week-end. I’m alone in the house. It’s silent. And my insides are a complete mess. I just can’t believe that all of the shit from the State of Vermont is DONE! And how strange that I didn’t make it to the court today as I should have and, even with-out my presence, the entire case was dismissed! And my emotions are tearing at me and tearing inside me, between manic and depressive… and there’s no-one here to talk it out. Odd that I should actually feel like talking with ANYone at this juncture. There really hasn’t been any-one who’s understood how I’ve been feeling all along, and no-one really ever seemed to care. I understand that nobody can actually “feel” the absolute despair that I’ve had for the past 5 months, and I understand that some may have thought me a bit over-reactive. Not one person ever thought that this case would actually get to the courts, but I’ve had to carry the entire doubt every single minute of every single day! It’s been nothing short of living terror and torture. I even think about Silas saying that he wasn’t sure I wasn’t guilty (back when he took that Order of Protection against me which made everything all the more difficult). People doubted me: I lost 5 opportunities to get a better job! I couldn’t apply for any work that involved any type of security at all. I couldn’t even get to Québec! A simple 5-10 minute walk from the front door! And here, today, I get the words, softly, calmly and quietly “You can get on with your life.” Even though I couldn’t believe it… my brain just won’t accept it, after all this time and anguish, I decided to take myself “out” for a bit of celebration and to vent. MARTINIS! I promised myself that, one day, I’d sit at the shores of Lake Champlain and have a martini, to rejoice in being back up North. I never got that opportunity. But tonight, lake or not, there was reason to “celebrate” and since I’ve held this all inside, quietly, for all these months, alone, I thought “Damn the World! Not only is it a Friday, and the end of the business week, it’s also the end of the month going into my favourite month of the year, it’s Shabbat AND I’m ALONE! Just so damned ALONE!” I scraped together the little bit of cash I had and headed out the door into the Wint’ry night. Tonight, I felt different. I came to this town with the Days Inn shit ON my head and shoulders and in my heart. I’ve walked these streets, talked with these people every day since my arrival with this shit ON me, not just hanging over me. But TONIGHT! Tonight I walked the streets as the person I’ve always been: Respectable! I actually FELT it right down to the cellular lever of my body! It was MAGNIFICENT! Went to Wetherby’s and there, for the first time in probably YEARS, I bought a small bottle of vodka and a small vermouth. I even told the woman there a bit about my cause for celebration tonight. She congratulated me and bade me a happy celebration. I strolled back, across the bridge, still rather in shock, stopped at Mayhew’s for a pack of cigarettes and chatted with a local customer about the weather. It was cold out there, but I didn’t mind… we talked a while on the street and inside me, I could feel my Soul smiling! Very odd feeling, indeed. The stroll up Province… Québec license plates on cars parked in front of the restaurant. For the VERY FIRST TIME since I arrived here, I saw them and “celebrated” the fact that soon, I could be crossing back and forth as easily as they do… soon, I’ll be able to go HOME! The entire experience was just incredibly delightful! Just something even unfamiliar at this point. I was here, this is “home” and I’m back to “ME”! The good person very few have ever taken the time to get to know… – I no sooner got into the house, got myself comfortable, enjoyed the relative warmth (15 degrees) and tidied things up… Tonight, I scurried to light “Shabbat” candles! 3 of them: the 2 for Shabbat and the extra one… believe it or not… for Nancy, because she’s been a great source of strength and courage through these months. She’s had faith in me, believed in me, even with-out having ever met me. Tonight, not even SHE could know just how important that’s all been. I made my… MARTINI! I took it to the living-room to sit for a moment, but before sitting, I help my glass to the Heavens and aloud, in Hebrew, I thanked “God” for having given me this opportunity to experience this Joy! As I sat in a chair, sipping the wonderful martini, I suddenly HAD to acknowledge, aloud: MINE IS A GREAT AND POWERFUL GOD! Yes, I do know that THE strength and endurance has come from that “God” IN ME. But even that comes from my “Life-time”, my Mum, her Mum. They taught me to be strong, to be stoic. This night wouldn’t be possible if not for them. And tonight, perhaps more than ever before, I was Grateful to and for them! Sipping done, I thought of Fran and that I should send her word of this event. Odd… I went to the computer and before creating and e-mail, I check for an obituary. It’s become my Life to do that: old or young, check to see if the person is still alive. The only mention of her was in her Mum’s obit from a couple of years ago. Fran, as far as I know, is still alive. I sent a brief message to her to tell her that it’s done. – Suddenly, the song “I’m A Free Man” came to mind! I hit the computer to get a copy to listen to (and to have in my collection). As that down-loaded, I thought of “Misdemeanor”… found that too! What a night! And since I was alone, no-one to talk with, it was a night on Twtr as well… a rather quiet night on Twtr, but at least it was some-one to communicate with. I’d left a message with Silas on his voice-mail, left a message with Nancy, spoke with Hilary… but I was just bubbling in side! Alone. Still? That’s been my history… News, good, bad or other-wise… I’ve almost always “shared” it with… myself. Tonight, with my martini, I did so… again. – As Twtr rolled down to relative silence, to match the silence in the house, I found the video for “שלום עליכם” in a beautiful version… and tonight, I played it… loudly and joyfully! – It got to be almost 23.00, as I recall, and being awake since 4.00 this morning finally got to me… Tonight, with a relatively lighter heart and soul, I climbed the stairs in the silence of this house, changed into my sleep-sweats, put the little heater on, got into bed (cot) and, in the light from the street-lampe out-side, I said “Thank You!”… THIS day, this month, and THESE MONTHS OF TERROR are… OVER! Time to “get on with [my] life”!