July 2009

WED.1: I am having a productive, persistent cough lately. At night, I’m drenched in sweat. My throat is rather sore. It’s been about 5 weeks of this now.

THU.2: Today I had to go to Ocean Village to get the application for an apartment there. It wasn’t arranged for me. Do I want to live there? Hell no! But at the rate things are going at the shelter, I want OUT of there and as quickly as I possibly can get out! (I’d journalled on this date before. This is the text: This morning, I took the train out to OV and got an application. Do I want to live there? Hell no! BUT, the idea of having a door-key and a place to lock my-self into at the end of the day, or having a place to go and rest with-out a time constraint is better than staying in the shelter! Being in this shelter is killing me… and not softly.)

FRI.3: YAY! FINALLY! With today’s little deposit (and a lot of hard-ships to me) the savings account finally reached 2400! Why is that so important? I don’t really know, but there’s something about that figure: at 600$/month, it’s a nice buffer. Now all I need to do is find someplace to live for that kind of rent… and that’s almost impossible these days.
***** More important for this day: The one they call the “Resident President”, the Puerto Rican arse who believes that he has control over everything (and, of course, DHS is letting him run things pretty much the way he wants… for example, this…) actually, in front of me, as I stood there watching (and waiting for the pen so I could sign-in for my bed tonight) SIGNED FOR TWO BEDS! They were the top 2 beds on the 3rd page of the roster for the “D” beds! He signed somebody else’s names to the list!
Later this evening, he came to our room after the lights had been out. He called for D15 to come to the hall and I heard the conversation and saw the transaction: He told the guy (D15) that the bed is “Unassigned”. D15 told him: “I signed for it last night. You told me I could.” Says Resident President, “That was last night. This is tonight. Do you want the bed tonight or not?” The next thing I see is the guy (D15) reaching into his pocket and pulling out some cash. I couldn’t see how much but apparently it was enough because the next thing I knew, the two of them went down the hall for a while. When D15 came back, he not only had the bed but a pink meal ticket to go with it! *****
(Previously journalled: Something that certainly deserves to be included here: This evening when I went to sign for my bed, the one called “Resident President” (whose real name I have yet to hear, but it makes no difference to us anyway) was sitting at the table, supposedly watching to make certain that signatures were legitimate. The table is set so that C beds (4th floor) sign on one end of the table, D beds (5th floor) sign on the other. As I got to the table to sign for my bed this evening, ResPres took the listing from me, flipped to the 3rd page and as I watched, he signed for the top 2 beds putting the names of the occupants on the lines where each occupant was supposed to sign.
Earlier this evening I was told that someone in another room had asked if there wasn’t something that could be done to rid the room of a rather undesirable room-mate. The ResPres told this guy that, for 20 dollars, he could arrange for the undesirable room-mate to lose his bed! So NOW we see how it’s all handled…
At 21h54, D15 comes into the room and gets on the phone. As he’s talking, he tries to get into his locker, banging the lock and the locker doors. BUT, what’s more is the fact that D15 has been “Unassigned” for the past 4 nights and still, this occupant is allowed to sign for it anyway, no questions asked.
Later, after the lights were out and all in the room should have been sleeping, ResPres comes round and calls D15 to the hall. As I watched from my bed, I saw D15 give ResPres some money and he (D15) was told that he’d get a new “meal ticket” – presumably with the bed number assigned on it. So, from the looks of things, D15 is PAYING for the bed each night!
All during the night (and I mean ALL during the night), D15 coughed, productively, never covering his mouth. He spat into a styro-cup that he kept on top of his locker or she spat into toilet paper which he then dropped on the floor. As it this wasn’t bad enough, he farted, loudly and repeatedly during the night. The stench was so that it kept me awake. I sprayed Fabuloso, pine cleaner, air freshener but to no avail. The stench was too strong. So I opened the door to the room as wide as possible just to get some breathable air into the room!
Next thing I know, D17 comes in, changes his clothes, leaves the other clothes and such on the bed and leaves… for the entire night!
Lately, my thoughts are funning evil.

SAT.4: This morning I went to services as usual. My 3 hours of sanity and peace in a week. When I returned to the shelter, Ms. Crawford helped me with my OV application, showing me the list of documents they’ll require when I apply. She’s been most helpful to me and I appreciate it.

SUN.5: This morning I bolted for the 99-cent CIA store for some “provisions” and then headed out to Tilden where I kept falling asleep on the beach. BUT today, for the first time, I actually went in swimming! It was refreshing! On the departure, I stopped by T7 to chat with Brian and Penelope. Penelope actually had the audacity to tell me that I should come by and stop for a cup of coffee! The same one who told me to make my presence scarce around the place!
As she was leaving (about 17h30) I went to her car and asked if she knew anything about the plastic bag I’d left in the tool shed. “I’d go look now, but I don’t have the time. But I’ll go tomorrow and look.” I didn’t ask her to look. I didn’t want her to look. I wanted to know if she’d thrown it out. So I waited for her to disappear down the road and I went to look…
THE BAG IS STILL THERE, WITH SHEETS, TOWEL, BLACK FABRIC! It’s soon a year since that was my bed, my everything. Still there… I want the sheets and towel but have no place to store them lately. I hope my mentioning it to Penelope will be forgotten and she’ll leave it all alone!

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FRI.10: Again tonight I had to ask that D16, D17 and “Rich” don’t smoke in the room. But tonight, the response from D17 was: “Don’t’ try to be a ruler when you only have 6 inches… Besides, you’re still angry that the Germans killed your family.”

SAT.11: This morning I left for services in such a hurry that I forgot to bring ANY ID! But that’s never posed a problem before today when, on coming into the building, the little Black DHS guard dog (not fair to dogs, I admit, they have better sense and bigger brains and more worth in the world in general) stops me and asks me for my meal ticket and ID. When I told him I didn’t have it with me I spewed my HAnumber, bed number, room number, case worker, substitute case worker and date of entry. Not good enough. This arse had the audacity to tell me “I(‘ve) never seen you before.” He’s SEEN me almost EVERY Saturday when I return from services!

SUN.12:

MON.13: THE WHOLE ROOM HAS THE MOST FOUL, SWEET-ROTTING-FLESH STENCH THESE DAYS BECAUSE OF D15! He’s a drunk (like D17) and he REFUSES to bathe! I couldn’t inhale this morning because of the stench. And I can’t sleep well at night because I’m afraid of breathing through my mouth and inhaling that crap into my lungs! Even my clothes are taking the stench! I NEED TO GET OUT! NOW! I’m almost tempted to jump into something I’m not prepared for and really can’t afford at this juncture, just to get out of there. But I’m entitled to a lot of financial help (WAP) and I WANT that! I have an opportunity and I WANT it! Now it’s a battle of the wits… And I’m feeling like murder at this juncture.
It has turned out to be a rather “kind” day, all told. This morning, I had to put up with Guad. She’s become quite selfish lately and once again, she’d arranged for Mr. G’s therapy this morning and I would have been cut out of hours needed… And do I ever need them now! But I put up with it all… actually, the strange thing is that when I get there, I forget my hostilities and just go to work. Well, that’s the moron I am.
Meanwhile, I’m at Seaside Lib. Just bumped into Barbara who was glad to see me (as I was glad to see her). We got to talking and, lo and behold, there are vacancies in her house! They go for about 425/month which means I’ve got just a little short of 6 month’s rent. And she says the rooms are about 9×10 ft. But we’ve arranged to meet here tomorrow evening and she’ll take me to meet the landlord! I’ll take a look! If it means getting out of that shelter, I could be very happy no matter what. And Barbara says it’s nothing like the RPH with all that crap. So…?
Before that, I managed to run like hell into the MidMan Lib to print the letter for JCCRP and then run like mad out to Far Rock to drop it off with Jackie. SHE was delighted to see me and said we have to talk. She even interrupted a client when I dropped in.
From there? On the bus and to Waldbaum’s for “dinner” (at Tribute Park). I HAD ICE CREAM TONIGHT! Little Ben and Jerry’s cups. But it was ICE CREAM! (It’s kicking my stomach left and right now, but it was SO GOOOOOD!) There was a huge, dark cloud over-head for most of the eating period. But no rain. God still has love for me. And the wind was blowing. It hurts to be here and not be able to stay.
So I left the park and headed over here… actually for nothing but I’m journaling anyway. And I got to see Barbara. And there might be an OUT coming from this. We’ll see.
Just think: I get to look forward to going back to that hell-hole with that rotting flesh, brain-dead idiot and the other two talking “old times” in their prisons. Oh! What fun! I wonder why I’m still moving along here? The stress alone should kill me.
By the way. Upper, last tooth, right side, loose, broken, should be coming out soon. Isn’t this wonderful? Losing MORE teeth. Old, old, old.
Oh, and as I was leaving the library, the phone rings… Some broad named “Stacey” from some “CBE” wants to verify my name and last 4 digits of my soc.sec. to discuss some “business”. I told her that I don’t discuss ANY personal information over the phone and she needs to try a different venue! But, my gut, my heart tells me this has something to do with a collection action. Of course! I’ve managed to save enough to get me going out of the shelter and NOW SOMEBODY WANTS IT! WELL, IF THEY MANAGE TO GET AT MY LITTLE PIECE OF SAVINGS BEFORE I GET BACK ON MY FEET… LET THIS BE THE DOCUMENTATION THAT THAT WAS THE FINAL BLOW AND I’LL BE DEAD LONG BEFORE IT BENEFITS ANYBODY BUT ME! I’LL GET MY SAVINGS, TAKE IT TO THE OPEN SEA AND I’LL BE OUT OF HERE.. DEAD, DEAD, DEAD! I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS BEING BASHED AROUND!

TUE.14: 14.What a day! Since I didn’t have any work to do (no clients), I decided to make the best of is that I possible could. And so I think I did:
Started by going to schachrit at 7h. It was a pleasure to be at a morning service again after so long. I remember the days when I was a regular feature at CSAIR. How I miss those days… those mornings. I was well-received and believe it or not, somebody was taking pictures of the minyan and I got included! Unfortunately I was in my navy scrubs. But I suppose that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
After service, it was off to the rails and off to Rego Park to register with Sr. Bridge. THAT went VERY well. The interview included some role-playing and I aced that part. The woman who conducted the interview said:
“You have so much to offer. I want to get you matched with a client ASAP.”
I certainly hope they do. I NEED the income… more now than I did at the interview… but more on that to follow…
Next was a stroll along Queens Blvd. to the train to Jamaica for the next application/agency. Now THAT was a hoot and a disappointment. The advert was for “Towne Nursing” on Guy R Brewer. The place was a store-front for Mary Kay, all done up in pink. Denise was the only one there and I think she was more into the Mary Kay than much else. Well, the application and paper-work was for “Amazing Home Care” in The Bronx! But I completed the forms, having nothing much else to do at the time and was told that I’ll be contacted by The Bronx location. Right. I’ll probably be contacted by the banque with all sorts of false applications for houses, cars and credit cards. Time will tell. It was on to the Q113 from there in a neighbourhood that I really didn’t want to be standing on the street in.
The ride was really interesting. Went past 5 Towns. The back part of JFK is beautiful wet-lands! But there came another call from that “Stacey” from “CBE”! I simply told her that she got the wrong number. She insisted that she’d spoken to the correct party last evening at this number. I told her she had a cell number and left it at that. It’s going to be interesting to see where this goes. Meanwhile, I’ll eat my heart out and look forward to a quick death on the beach if they take my savings!
And finally into Far Rock to see Jackie.
She had me check her voice mails… SO MANY of them. But I volunteered to help her. I listened to her trouble-shoot a housing matter with a client and it made me miss the old days in The Bronx Housing Courts. I stayed until about 17h. (I’d gone to Associated for some quick eats before. I was starving and thirsty.)
On the Q22 to Rock Park to meet Barbara and THIS IS WHERE THE DAY TURNED… I got to the Seaside a bit later than planned and Barbara was still there! Thankfully. So I got to look up CBE and I was right… they’re out to take my savings! So, I’m resigned to making the move out of the shelter and moving out of this life the way I’d planned originally… To that end…
B. and I strolled over to her house where she suddenly said, “There she is… Denise.” This was the Denise I’ve been trying to get in touch with all week! I had that feeling too. (I need to trust my gut and instinct more… Yes?) We were introduced and talked about missing each-other and she offered to show me the 2 rooms she had available. Hey! It might only be a room, but it ISN’T the shelter… and it IS Rockaway! I had the opportunity to return and so I went for it…
The house is amazing! CLEAN. QUIET! ORDERLY! Carpeting on the stairs and hall. The rooms she showed me are fresh and clean. No bugs! The bath-rooms are immaculate. Two to a floor! It’s all so “Old Rockaway” that you can’t help fall in love with it. And I did… to the point of AGREEING TO TAKE A ROOM, ON SUNDAY!!!!! HELLO ROCKAWAY! I’M BACK!
Now, this is going to hurt me a bit because I SHOULD have gotten a “Work Advantage” voucher by this time where I would have had to pay only 50$/month rent and had the chance to save SO much more. But, the failure of the shelter system does not discriminate (or does it? I wonder, if I were Black or some other ridiculous moron minority, I’d probably have had the voucher back in May when the application went in first) and so I’m screwed to the wall. I’ll have to dig into the savings… hopefully well before CBE gets to it. I’ll have to make sure that I get more hours and more work and more money from this point on. I’ll be paying the whole 400$ rent every month. But I’ll have to budget too. Never mind helping me out here… That just can’t happen to me. After all, the shelter system is no different from my own family… and they screwed me, cut me up, dropped me flat, threw me out. So why shouldn’t the system do the same thing? No reason. I don’t like it but I can’t say that I’m particularly disappointed. So, plans? If the world goes the way it always has, I have this nice room to call “Home” for as long as I cant stand it all. When I can’t take anymore? I’m back on The Rock where I can take off and head out of here… just like I’d planned. Only this time, no turning back. At least I won’t die in the shelter. So, I AGREED TO TAKE THE ROOM!!!! It’s going to be fun moving, little by little. I’m not saying anything to anybody in the shelter. Just GET THE HELL OUT!
Tonight? I noticed that my pillow stinks! FOUL FOUL FOUL odour! And it’s from ME! I NEED to make a wash but I just don’t have the time. Something inside my body is going bad. I wonder… could it be from 11 months of homelessness? Stress? Improper diet? All of the above? All I know is that my body smells as if it’s rotting. So, maybe I won’t have to worry about taking my own way out of this… maybe my body is doing it all for me. Wouldn’t that be lovely?
When I got back, D16 had the TV on. BLASTING! These crack-heads are deaf! And the 17 comes in with his weed and Rich and he get stoned. My clothing is beginning to stink from the cigarette smoke in the room. I’m SO OUT OF THERE!
BUT NOW I HAVE A PLACE TO GO TO! A PLACE TO CALL “HOME”! I’M NOT HOMELESS ANY MORE!

WED.15: Metro: Wednesday, July 15, 2009 “Report: Homeless program a failure” New York. A rental subsidy program designed to help New Yorkers transition from homelessness into stable housing has been a failure, according to t new report from advocacy group Picture the Homeless.
Of 500 homeless people surveyed, 69 percent said they’ve been to housing court because of subsidy-related problems, and 41 percent were in rent arrears because the city failed to pay its portion.
Officials from the program say it’s helped New Yorkers sign 12,000 leases since 2007.
How about this? They publish it like this is news! BUT the question not answered is: How many of those were legitimate and how many were a success? I loathe this city and its propaganda! What a bunch of delusional liars!

THU.16: I got back to the shelter at about 16h30 this evening. A very hot and humid, oppressive sort of day. But I wanted to get some laundry done. Not much. Sheets, underwear. Things I need to get cleaned. So, I bagged it all, stripped the bed and headed to the laundry room on the 5th floor. Two Puerto Ricans had commandeered the washers and dryers! One for each (one person, two machines). They’re really a stupid race of people, and inconsiderate of everybody and everything. No bias. Just the truth from experience. So I sat on the floor and waited until…
The one who had the washers had washed some trousers that were covered in wet, white paint! So when I finally got to use the washer, I had to wash it before washing my clothes! And to think, today, for the first time in years I actually broke down and bought “Gain” laundry soap and for THIS! Well, I got to do my wash (and caught it before the white paint ruined one of my shirts). It took until after 20h!
I come into the room and there, 16 is lounging, watching his TV. 17 looks up and says “Oh, you only did wash! We thought we lost you.” (“Not yet…” I replied. I’m saying nothing to any of them.) Rich is hanging in the window, smoking a cigarette. I just don’t get it. He knows I don’t like the smoke in the room. But I swallowed this too and went on with my own business of making the bed and finally, at about 20h45, getting something to eat!
The evening went on. I got a shower in. I came back, got ready for some sleep…. SOME… and as I’m trying to sleep, 16, 17 and Rich are yapping away about pretty much nothing. Crack-heads do that sort of thing… they just ramble, talking TO each-other and never listening, making no sense at all. I’ve learnt to just let it go at that. But then…
At about 22h30 some moron walks in the door, looking to talk with 17… Old prison-mates! They all love to talk about “up-state”. Rich gets into the talk. Then 16 gets into it with his “I know all there is to know about everything there is” and they’re ALL talking prison! Meanwhile, I’m trying to sleep.
It finally got finished some time after 23h and I finally got to pass out.

FRI.17: Seaside 15h57 Waiting for 18h30…
Well, it looks like “the system” FAILED AGAIN! Instead of having a voucher for the “Work Advantage Program” in hand, I now have two money orders, one for the month of July and one for the month of August… RENT! NO HELP! NO HELP AGAIN! So many promises and so much information about how much DHS (Department of Homeless Services) can help me get back on my feet… And all the while, they’ve done nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! I’ve saved my own income. I’ve worked my-self almost to death (or sickness at the very least). I’ve done it all… I’ve put up with harassment. I’ve put up with the threats to my well-being. I’ve put up with the smoking in the room. I’ve put up with the room-mates who don’t bathe and who could knock the wind out of a set of lungs with their stench. I’ve put up with the screaming and hollering in the halls. I’ve put up with the urine on the floors. I’ve put up with running all over to get receipts and to do the paper-work for the so-called “case-workers”. I’ve done EVERYTHING that’s been asked of me and today? Here I sit, 800$ poorer in my savings account, ready to pay rent, with NO HELP.
DEPARTMENT OF HOMELESS SERVICES… YOU’VE FAILED… AGAIN!
Today, I left the shelter at the usual time (about 6h15), got the M15 bus to 14th Street, walked to 1st Avenue for the L train to Broadway Junction where I got an A to Rockaway Parkway. There, I got the Q41 bus to Howard Beach where I.G. was not in because she’s been hospitalised. I worked in the heat and humidity and bolted for the door at noon.
Back to the Q41 to Rockaway Parkway for the A train to Broadway Junction for the J train to Chambers Street. At the banque, get my savings balance, transfer the funds from savings to chequing, bolt for the J train back to Broadway Junction to the A to the Shuttle to Rock Park.
P.O. Money orders and my pay stub. Waldbaum’s for something to eat (PopTarts and Half-n-Half coffee). A quick bite in Tribute Park and here.
THIS room had better come through! If not? I’ll be on the beach at Tilden with my “bullets”, ready to go “Home”, ready to go to my Mom. That’s all I’ll say.
Meanwhile… I just want the world to know:
Department of Homeless Services, New York City has FAILED YET AGAIN!

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