NYC8539266

February 2009

SUN.1 SUNDAY 1 FEBRUARY 171/140 20h10 at D18. The day ends. Another bloody month begins. I wonder what little “habits” I’ve developed in this misery I’ll take with me when I leave. Cold “Hot” chocolate at night? Hiding in the loo to smoke? Watching for somebody to come into the room at night? Half-sleeping, waiting for the lights to be thrown on for some “bed-check!”? Stuffing my world into a space no larger than this locker? Will it become neurotic? I can’t wait to find out. – Keith just walked into the room with a box of rugelach! Gave Rey and I one each. I’ve no idea where they could have come from. But the one I had was quite good. (15 and 16 perked right up to look. Keith didn’t offer.) – Rick came by earlier to bring 2 dinners in for Rey. He needs more food! He needs vitamins. He needs rest. I think toward the day when I get to leave here. I hope it’s before Rey goes but since he and I get along so well, I don’t like the idea of leaving him here to suffer through this. Sometimes I amuse myself and think of this as some kind of Purgatory. We’re here to suffer for some reason. We’re not quite ready for utter Hell but we’re forbidden to exist in Heaven. We are our souls, hovering over our rotting corpses, looking on in misery. This is “shelter”. – Up at 7h30 or so. A clear day. So much planned. So much actually accomplished. So much not done. – A moron in the shower got ticked when I opened the full shower, changing pressure and temperature. “There’s somebody in here!” he yells at me. I ignore, take my shower and my leave. I dress, thinking I’d like to go to the Brooklyn 99cent store, then to The Bronx library, Associated for coffee and food, Jack’s for the umbrella and to wash my undershirts for work. It’s a full day. What I manage to accomplish? The M15 to 14th and a walk to Union Square for a Q running local all the way! I got to the 99cent store at 10h, just as it opened! But I did get almost everything on my list and, because I’d taken money (40) out of chequing last night, still had enough for the new umbrella! At noon, I was still on the damned train coming back to The City! I wore my black sneakers and they were killing my left foot. Still, I got off at 34th, got the umbrella, walked back to the dung-heap. The day was shot to all hell. So I did my wash. I’ll be happier for it tomorrow… I suppose. I had 2 rolls and 2 pkgs. of turkey here, so at 14h30, I ate. Started another kippa (which I ripped and re-started) and napped from about 16h to 17h15 when DHS Task came bounding in for “routine check”. Yup. The day is gone. The idiot looked in my locker with his little flash light (my locker is open and today, was covered in laundry) and asked “You smokin’ in here?” “Of course not.” “Somebody’s smokin’ in here.” “It comes in from across the hall.” What a friggin idiot! He comes in. I’m asleep. Am I smoking? Brain dead. – I was awake. Returned to my kippa. I was alone in the room too! The dead-beats had left. They moved! Imagine? – There are those in here who sleep and eat and nothing more and nothing less. What I don’t understand is how those get into rooms with those others who work, look for work, have ambition. What I don’t understand is why those who work and those who actually want to work aren’t put in some area condusive to those pursuits and afforded good rest, clean quarters, better conditions. The slobs don’t find inspiration in us. And we’re simply annoyed by them. – 21h09 still not signed-in. It’s “Super Bowl” night. The emasculated are watching somewhere down the hall. No doubt there will be chaos when the game ends. A night (ANOTHER NIGHT) of no sleep is coming. – Another note: I’ve taken to mopping only the 17-18 side of the room. Yesterday I moved the lockers to mop. Hopefully it will keep the vermin on the 15-16 side. Neither of THEM do a damned thing to maintain this room. Shit happens in any colour… obviously. – 22h26 The dumb fuck Puerto Rican has come to life. Rey is in. Mr. Ed is displeased with our open door for ventilation. 15 is sleeping. I’m hungry, ready for sleep. But I fear ‘twill be a god-awful night. Especially with that piece of shit with the Rican arse-wipe (flag) on the door, shrieking up and down the halls all night. When the night comes, this Purgatory turns to Hell.
MON.2 172/141 8h25 at Guad’s. Inexplicably, last night wasn’t as bad as expected and I managed sleep all through. The little miracles of Hell. This morning, Mr. Ed put on the low light to go to his locker. So the “prison” attitude is now coming through. Keith estimated 90% of what’s in here at the dung-heap is convicts, serving parole time. A recent comment from somebody was “I did my time in prison and was remanded to the shelter.” It’s not uncommon to see Parole Officers coming to check on guys here. Usually women P.O.’s traveling in groups of 3, escorted by shelter “security”. It’s a joke, really. As if shelter “security” could protect let alone save. Most are disgustingly over-weight and the meanest thing about them is their petty attitude of some sort of superiority. Otherwise, they’re utterly useless. For example: Extension cords that were confiscated on Saturday were strung across the hall again this morning. And the flag-Spic down the hall watched his DVD whilst sitting on the floor, in the hall last night, even as “Security” came round. They enforce nothing. The reinforce chaos. I suppose the only reason I manage here is because I use it for all it’s worth: a place to sleep and bathe. Other than that, it’s all entirely useless. Meanwhile, here I sit, quietly, in a relatively nice home in Howard Beach. The sun is shining. It’s a comfortable day. A rain bow of colours streams across the page as the sunlight pours in through the glass prism of the candle-stick lampe in the window. I could use a nap. Coffee and bagel will come soon. I need my own “Home”. Let’s see if Tret doesn’t cancel Thursday again this week. It’s all about money now. By April I want a life back. – 20h55 A the dung-heap. I’ve eaten. Dairy (again). – When I left Sims this warm evening and began walking to the train, the disgust of where I was headed grabbed me again, bitterly, painfully. It’s hate, compounded by hate, topped with more hate, tinged with even more hate, wrapped in hate, perpetuating hate. The weather today was perfect for a return to the Bakfort. But tomorrow promises more snow. The season of uncertainty begins. And here, tonight, Mr. Ed is particularly annoying, in undershorts and pink-blonde, 15 has gone to the laundry and retuned, depressed and planning on researching other shelters in the hope of finding one that will help him find a job. There’s a decided odour in the room, in spite of my having mopped (the 17-18 half). And I’m waiting to sign-in… the queue is rumoured to be lengthy. Yes. Here, it’s a major task to look at a printed list, find bed number, sign one’s name. Stupidity abounds. It might be remarkable to some. Here, it’s the norm. – I took the Q41 to 157th, walked to Sim’s today. Left Guad and was at the bus stop at 12h33. Arrived at Sim’s by 13h! Not a bad walk…. In fair weather. When, at 16h, I offered to clean Mr., he said “Don’t worry about it. My wife will take care of it when she comes down.” When I said I’d do so he replied “You don’t get paid to do that.” How cute! Believe it or not, I clocked-out and stayed a half hour over to have a coffee! I’m hating this City, this shelter that much now. Good! Helps me live on 30% of my pay, save 70%. I’ll try making it 20:80. The sooner I get rent and security and some to be certain not to fail’n’fall again, the better. – And so I recall: 20 years to compile the Mr. G’s music… gone. 10 years of web-work… gone. 9/11 photos and the list of dead a destroyed businesses… gone. Quebec music and books… gone. Covered with “I’m sorry…” I want my revenge and I will have it. Between now and August 2010, I will do what I must so as to leave this all behind with no regrets, no unfinished business… including the RPH theft. (No reply or response to my letters. Well, as Penelope said, you have to kick Fate in the ass to make some people pay. Justice no longer happens in due course. It has to be pushed.) 21h39 Signed. The continuity in this hole is.. well… is isn’t. Tonight, they’re pulling the “No Meal Ticket, no bed” crap. And the funk in this room is choking. The horses’ arse (16). Another no-bather. The DHS Task is on the floor. Earlier, they dragged the weed-head in 20 out, cuffed and screaming. So I was told. Last night they busted him for a room full of people who didn’t belong here. He was hauled out before, a while back. He returned to his “private” room as though nothing happened. Suspicious? Oh yes. Atypical? Not in the least. The only “atypical” around here is anything “typical”. Even down to Santiago coming in for a cigarette just now. Ah, what our new goons must wonder about me supplying smokes to a staff member. Let them wonder. It just might keep their… er… brain(?) functioning… momentarily. – 22h02 Confirmed. The horse’s arse is the funk. Here we go. Not too much longer and it’s going to be bad times in here again. Flatulence and that sweet pung. GOT to go! One or the other. Poor Rey. The shit that settles in that bed, across from him. As he said, Nr.16 is cursed! – The dumbSpic down the hall? D23. Private room. Figures. – Craig just came by the door carrying a bottle of water from the cooler. The bodega continues. And D20 is back, prancing about the floor. See? Nothing is “atypical” here. Stench. Stupidity. The gambit. – Tonight on the train, as we waited to make the turn toward Rock. Blvd. I wondered why I bother going through all of this… Then I thought to next year at this time and how close to closing it all out I’ve gotten. In Newburgh, 2010 seemed so far off in the future. We’re already in the second month of 2009 already. Days just flash by, pulling months into years. I’ll go out working, simply because that’s how my Mom’s family, my name-sake, went. We make our dignity by working to death. We die working.
TUE.3 173/142 8h23 Guad. A good night’s sleep in spite of excessive heat and some sweating. My linens truly need to be laundered. – 20h16 At the dung-heap. – SNOW today. Almost ALL day. And the new umbrella held and passed the Gestapo… that’s no fair… to the Gestapo… the baboons of our “security” force. I’m in, did my wash (flannel shirt and unders to go with), changed to “lounge” scrubs, eaten, mopped the floor. The dim light is on, or I’d be working the next kippa. But I’m not complaining. – I’d no sooner settled to journal this morning when Mr. Guad woke and I went in to “chat” with him. He speaks well in the morning, but by the time I was ready to leave, the other side reared it’s ugly head. I’ll swear it’s because Mrs. makes him crazy with her 100 questions: Do you want tea? Coffee? Water? Juice? Cereal? Eggs? Heat on? Heat off? Get up? Stay in bed? I’ll make cereal. You like soft boiled eggs. Drink some juice. Here’s some water. It’s enough to drive ME nuts. No wonder he goes off. – OK. So it’s Thurs. already. I didn’t get far enough with this day. Suffice to say: finished well at Guad’s and in the snow, made it to Tret’s where I had a coffee, left half of another and half my cookies. Just not feeling well at all. Not feeling comfortable in there either. It’s not so welcoming of late. Stephen is on holidays in Aruba and I just can’t stomach Joey and his nasty comments about everybody. The schedule for them is down to 2 days each week. It would be great to get Sim these 2 days and drop Tret. But they were kind and gifted 50 for the holidays. I must remember that. – When I left, got a pack of cigs at Walgreens, grabbed a Q10 to Lefferts train. – Wow! Did it snow! I’m truly glad I got the new umbrella when I did! Fate slipped. I did good. – I don’t recall – wait… As the lights went out tonight, about 23h, screaming in the hall. Tony DramaQueen got his phone stolen. Plugged into the charger, charger into (illegal) extension cord, cord plugged into hallway outlet. Why not just put up a “Take Me” sign? Just before that, some DHS idiot comes into the room, puts on the light, “How y’doin’ guy?” he says to me. He walks over, looks at 16 and 17, snoops a quickie in my locker and leaves. He did put out the light though. Still… NO PEACE NO MATTER WHAT!
WED.4 174/143 It was all just starting to come together but Fate… with-out warning or even a hint, Mrs. Guad got Mr. into re-hab! Today! This evening! TWENTY HOURS EVERY WEEK RIPPED AWAY! – Susan Sim drove me to train. – I walked from Guad to Sim in about 30 minutes. – Tonight, Mr. Ed disappears. Some over-nighter got the bed. Turned on the light, asked for D16, Rey said “There.” Lights out. Whom/what ever slept in/under Ed’s linens. But quietly.
THU.5 175/144 11h40 MMLib Tired. Catching-up. Very cold this morning. I need a smoke. Tret’s at 13h. Back to mornings at library. Logging “Monogram” again. – Wrote that and bolted for the train. I lost rack of time and timing for the train travel. Arrived, as it turned out, at Tret’s at just past 13h30! Helped Mary disassemble the Easy Pivot for return shipment. We had great fun packing it up. But Joey got on my last nerve today with his anti-Semitic remarks. Today he blamed the Jews for putting Obama into the presidency and for letting him waste taxpayers’’ money. So, today, I let my tongue go… a little… and told him that his remarks made him appear very stupid and that he shouldn’t insult his father that way, making people think that his parents would bring such ignorance and stupidity into the world. (Completing on 15.2) I thought it would mean immediate dismissal but, to my amazement, he got up and left the room. Mary actually THANKED me for finally coming back at him! Apparently, she’s been aware of his remarks all along and they’ve bothered her. She never apologized but she did tell me that he’s got some very serious problems that she and Stephen want him to seek professional help for. Seems he’s not simply anti-Semitic, he’s delusional as well. He makes inappropriate remarks all over. Still, tonight I was about ready to call me off the case… BUT I NEED THE MONEY! How fucking miserable have I gotten?
FRI.6 On Friday 6 – 176/145: With the morning to myself, I headed to the MMlib for 10h and my 45 minutes on-line. Headed “Home” to the post office and my pay advice, then, on to Sim. It’s become such a pleasure to be in that house. Mr. is such a pleasure to work with because he actually does try to work with those of us who want to help him! And Susan is very kind. It’s like “family” and they certainly are better than what remains of the one I was born into! I’d like to go on about them, recording how truly kind, attentive and sensitive they are but my energy level just won’t let me. (How I used to love writing. How, now, it’s actually an effort.) – I wish I could recall the evening when I left there. But I can say that I do enjoy the stroll in Ozone Park. The planes. The open space. The open sky. How odd that Queens has become “Home” to me.
SAT.7 Saturday 7- – 178/146: What can be said for Saturdays of late? The mornings are spent like this one. I lounge about, waiting for the misery of not knowing what bull-shit I’ll be forced to handle just to make my mandatory meeting with Renee Simmons. This morning, I worked on a new off-white and black kippa. One to wear with my tallit, when I finally return to Shabbat services. Stomach churning all the while. It just can’t be a simple matter. She sits at her desk, waiting for “her client” to come to her. Meanwhile, the lackey at the office door denies “her clients” entry. Ah, but today’s visit was a pleasant shock: When I finally got so see it… her… she copied my pay-stub, MetroCard and savings receipt, typed some crap to my “ILP”, I signed, she wrote a new meal ticket and in all of maybe 15 minutes, I was out of the office and back to Shabbat lounging and some more crochet on the kippa! Imagine? She CAN get all things done quickly but her, her sloth and slovenliness (?) and incompetence prohibits. What a shame. So fat, so brain-dead. And I noticed she’s so lazy that she doesn’t move her mouth when she speaks. More of my torment and torture. Existence must not ever be pleasant! Not ever! – Tonight brought a terrible bit of drama. Geo came in, rather early for him, not simply his usual drunk … (2011, 30 June MMlib This is where this entry ended)
SUN.8
MON.9
TUE.10
WED.11
THU.12
FRI.13
SAT.14
SUN.15 185(6 MONTHS OF HOMELESSNESS BY THE CALENDAR)/154(4 MONTHS IN THE SHELTER) 18h52 My bowels are knotting. I can’t tell if I’ll pass gas or blow my intestines out. So much pain and no-where to go to escape, to sit on a toilet and wait for what’s to come. It’s been a terrible 10 says since I last journalled. Much fatigue, pain in the bowels and right arm and shoulder, fatigue, new morning patient (Fish) in a flat FULL of roaches and stale stench, a new 16 who came in to take over and snores through the night, fatigue. I’ve occupied my time involved in completing an off-white and black kippa which I finished just last night. I didn’t have the energy to put pen to paper. Even now, the pain in the right arm takes the pleasure from this. But there is relative calm (for the moment) in the halls, Rey is, I should think, next door, 16 is out peddling his candy bars, 15 is reading a paper or doing a cross-word or something. So, it’s time to try and capture 10 days as best I can, whilst I may… I kept little notes in my pocket calendar, so I’ll work from that. Probably not much detail will be recorded because my brain seems to be going quite dim. Fatigue, general disgust and developing apathy toward much in every day affairs. But, that aside… (19h45) Started to complete the entry for the 5th when the bowels took me across the hall! Very little comes out but what does is acrid. And it isn’t done yet. The pain is still there (here?) and I’m exhausted and ready for sleep! – Let’s try this re-cap thing again: (Friday 6th, Saturday 7th)
MON.16
TUE.17
WED.18
THU.19
FRI.20
SAT.21
SUN.22
MON.23
TUE.24
Wednesday 25th, 18h32 at the MMlib: This is proving to be a very confusing and difficult month. Still at the shelter. The shelter is still hellish, save for the link with sanity provided by Rey. There’s a THIRD new D16 since George left. There have been over-nighters who have been misery: STENCH! But there have been 3 assigns. The 1st (as I recall it) was Rich who decided he didn’t like George’s music blasting and said so. He disappeared shortly there-after. The 2nd was Eddy who came to us from Sing-Sing and decided that life there was better so he arranged to leave (presumably to go back. He didn’t want to be on parole anymore). Then came Baxter: old guy who had plans for some money he was to come into and he disappeared one night. Ah hah! THEN came the PR who was running a little bodega from the locker: Nightly trips in and out of the room with HUGE stashes of candy bars, Cup o’Soups, cigarettes, lighters, etc. He too, suddenly disappeared. Now? Some Black guy who showed up one night, crashed. Next morning, he wakes and lights a cigarette in the room! I told him to take it across the hall. “No problem. Thank you for telling me.” But it hasn’t been a good night’s sleep since.
This Saturday past, I managed to get to SCHUL! It was WONDERFUL! EXACTLY LIKE CSAIR! I’m looking forward to going back from now on.
Next? Hospice case in Old HB. Been there since Thursday past. Just before that, a nightmare case in Rock Beach. Fishbein is what gives all Jews a miserable reputation! I actually called my-self off the case.
Meanwhile, at the shelter, the DHS “Task” comes and goes, barging in and out at all hours of the night, waking and disturbing. Lights on. Bang, bang and out the door. There have been several fights in the hall. Most of the guys who are “regular” and a pleasure to be around are being given housing and shipped out. Rey and I will be the only two in a while. How friggin strange to have “seniority” in the room.
Every day I go to work in Old and New HB and it kills me. I want, so much to be back on The Rock!
Every day I remember what’s gone from my life and I want the Rockaway Park Hotel CLOSED AND DEMOLISHED! And I want the rest of those responsible for their cruelty to be addressed in some appropriate fashion. For every second of my heart-ache, I hope they all suffer an eternity, right here, on this earth, in this life.
Almost time to return to the cell at the shelter. This is the end of my day… I hate it. But I’m saving money and will be ready to bolt in a little while.
Meanwhile, I’m so tired every night that I haven’t journalled all month. Look at this… a new page! It MUST come to an end… SOON!
THU.26
FRI.27
SAT.28 Sat 28 February 20h05 198 Days Homeless and 167 Days in the shelter. “Hotel California” blasting in the hall. Jenny Craig’s been cranking his radio all day long. This morning, old-time blues. This evening it was tunes from the 30’s and 40’s. Rock now. Even Rick got into a little dance step to “Stuck In The Middle With You”. There hasn’t been much to dance about this month. I haven’t had the energy to write. Even today my lungs gurgle, my nose runs and I wake through the night in coughing fits. I’m sleeping on month-old linens, never changed or washed. It was a strange and not delightful month over-all. Save for finding Tiferet Israel on Saturday, 21st. Services duplicated CSAIR. A few hours of familiarity in a time that is never “same”, never “familiar”, never “sane”. A few hours of peace. A few hours to escape. – Thursday, 26th, my Hospice case died. I had to inform the family. I’d washed, shaved, cleaned his mouth. He was “ready”. He left. He was in “Old Howard Beach”. I still have the case in “New Howard Beach” to remind me that I’m not in Rockaway. – This month, George got transferred to the Borden Shelter, Rich got an SRO on W.35th. We’re on our 3rd D16. Mark (D15) is proving to be a strange case. (“Wild Horses”. I never liked the song. Tonight it throws me back many years. I know why my music has been stolen from me. Music hurts now.) – February has been a painful month. I’ve been sick for most of it. The relative “comfort” of the “common-place” here has been destroyed. Rey is down. I’m supposing his general “social circle” is diminishing. Around here, one of the most important things is knowing the others around you, creating some kind of bond, knowing the extent of that bond and holding it for as long as possible. For example: When I was at A108, Angel was my “bond”. I learned that I could trust him… to an extent. However, on the evening he actually picked a fight because somebody was in the shower, I didn’t defend him. To do so was senseless. Had he waited his turn, all would have been fine. When I came to D18, I was the “new” guy. I couldn’t get into the locker because the previous lock hadn’t been removed. I stored my belongings under the bed for 3 days. Nothing was disturbed. I learned that I could trust the other 3 in the room and so, I began to speak, to talk with them. Back then, it was, for the most part, Rey and George. Quiet, clean, respectable, respectful. Brindou kept to himself. He and I spoke only to maintain a sort of connection and to establish certain limitations on the situation at hand. As time passed, I learned that Rey has incentive to get out of here, to move on, make better, George has succumbed to the general malaise of shelter-existence. He’s in it for the free ride. But he’s clean, respectful, in general… a lazy drunk specifically. Brindou? He and those who have followed him in D16 was the “curse” of the room. Delusional and prone to violence, disrespectful, noisy, dirty, he was the element placed to ensure that the rest of us would never become so comfortable as to “settle” in. He was there to remind us of our “homelessness” and that the situation and circumstances are to remain “temporary” no matter what. – Rey and George had been in 5W-101 the longest. They had had the time to learn each other, adapt, adjust, bond. Brindou was the 2nd D16 for them. He made no effort to “belong” and they made no effort to change him. When I arrived, I made the effort to integrate and my efforts were appreciated and accepted. Meanwhile, Rey had somehow done likewise with Keith, Rick, Rich and (to a specific extent) Dana (Do-Rag). Over the course of months, Do-Rag proved to be a complete idiot, drunk, druggie. The other 3 showed ambition (to get out) and a great sense of survival. Good alliances. Good support. Good network. But now, at this juncture, the elements are disassembling. Rey is becoming a solo entity even though he and I maintain some sort of “bond”, is ”structure” is diminishing. It’s taking a toll… on him and of course, on me. As he’s affected by the disappearance of his “social structure”, I too am affected because he is an integral part of my “social structure”. It’s a bit painful but the instinct to survive is remarkable. As the changes take place around me, they take place inside as well. Lessons learned, experiences, situations, surroundings are integrated and assimilated. Increasingly, my existence is becoming “mine” and the external is becoming less important.

NOTES

Site-Build: JA Kessler Design 2018