August 2011 - Park Avenue sHELLter

01/08/2011 at 06:50
6.30 Pulling-out from Woodside Q53. – They turned so evil; so very evil. Miserable and rotten, to their core. I wonder how. So hateful. So terribly hateful. Even to turn against their Mother. She gave everything, everything. Perfect? No. Not really. But as close as possible to it. And hateful toward me. I held them, protected them. I took them on. Not mine… hers… theirs. But I knew they needed, I knew what they needed. I gave. I had nothing more, nothing left. They took. I’ve nothing left. “Oh God forbid that one should perish.” “They live so far away.” They never heard my calling… calling…
I didn’t want to see this month, this year, this morning. I wonder, this morning, why I’m here. I wonder what keeps me going. There’s no hold on me. I owe nothing. I owe no-one. I didn’t want to see this date, this sun-rise. I wonder… because here I am… wondering.
It was an OK night. The radio went off at about 21.30. The light pierced my closed eyes when Hires(1) came in. I went back to sleep. I was exhausted. – This morning, woke about 4.15, with-out the alarm. – A 6.00 M101 to GCT Nr.7. And at WoodhavenBlvd./62ndRd. at 6.46. – A lovely morning. – Queens. I’d made it my “home”. Strange land. Same shit. Give. Give. Give. My fault. My fault. – My guts wrench again this morning. My body wants to collapse. I’ve no time, no opportunity. To die. I’ve done more than enough… thanklessly.
Calling My Children: The Dartmouth Aires
07:04
7.00 AtlanticAv: @BelindaUSA has been such a wonderful correspondent. I have to smile when I see her posts. We’ve never met yet seeing her posts puts me in a mind-set of sitting on a front porch, rockers, big trees, soft breezes, iced-tea, chatting, catching-up. Thank you Belinda.

02/08/2011 at 06:30
6.21 28th/1st Waiting… with guts on the verge. – Yesterday (Monday 1 Aug. 11) I was reminded that a new month has begun: When I arrived at the Dung-heap, Darsevid had his head in his locker, click-clicking away on… yup… Ye olde crack-pipe and mumbling a la machine gun fashion, to its self. The joy of a new month: Daily we toil to pay taxes which go to the pockets of the useless non-toilers who, in all their leisure, re-circulate that currency at the hands of the dealers who supply them with the means to get stoned and all the more stupid, useless, disgusting, repulsive and generally abusive… to us who daily toil to support them in their useless leisure.
06:33
6.32 M15 to 42. PAIN!
06:42
6.38 42/1 Waiting… (Monday…) I arr’d to HoBe at about 7 on a morning when 8 would have been fine. The inside door was still locked. Mrs. was still asleep, so I perched on the stoop-rail to read the morning paper. The family is on holidays thus no children to watch.
07:41
7.12 Woodside. The family’s in Mexico. TAG! I’m “It”. Then, I get told the good/bad news: An extra hour every week-day! Good because it’s another lousy 6-7$/day. Bad because it pulls an hour away from anything I might want to do. But CA/colon confirmed. A CA pt. My heart goes out now. (7.19 Q53) – At 9.09 I rang Melanie: Thursday off to re-new license. BULL-SHIT! “There are offices open late.” “There’s one on Rockaway Blvd. open until 6.00.” WHY? I GIVE YOUR BLOODY CLIENT AT LEAST AN HOUR EXTRA EVERY BLOODY DAY! I need ONE FUKKING DAY and you CAN’T simply say “OK”! I sent a note just to document and back up. – The day went along. Jigs (PT) came… 15mins. Mr. has been somnolent all day, poor appetite. But PT will continue. – Mrs. wants 2hrs. 18-20.00 daily. No way the agency can provide and truly no way I can, nor would. And NOT at 10$/hr.! – So… I ate much junk again today. Ice cream, candy, cookies. And I wonder why my guts are in misery. – Day ends, bolt for the 53… TWO PASS! I have to wait! – PenLb. I only need appear and someone there puts my name on the PC list. Accomplished? BUNK. Although I did registre for change of address on-line with DMV. But it didn’t actually go through until I got to MMLib later! An hour… pissed away. But, am I in a rush to get to the Dung-heap? – As I was leaving for the Shuttle, thunder rumbles. RESENTMENT! I wanted to stay, to go “home” in Rockaway, to watch the storm. I can’t. And Rockaway seemed “small town” comfy. I HAD to leave! – MMLib. The Dung-heap Annex. The mouse malfunctioned. The key-board malfunctioned. NYC. The Grand Dung-heap. I’ve no more patience with/for this hole any longer. So I diddled. BUT DID CHANGE THE ADDRESSE! POB AND PHYSICAL ADDRESSE… FOR ROCK.PK PO (FML). Hopefully I’ll get the new license quickly. I NEED to move out, move on, move along. – Cigs and beverage, CVS 42nd. M15 to 30th. – In with no probs. Lift to 7 and walk down to 6 to CrackO. I ignore him completely. No sense speaking. No sense to ANY of ANY of it ALL. But, at one point…
07:46
It calls my name. “How you doing?” with a grin. “I’m good.” I half muttered back and left it at that. “It” went back to the click-crack smoking… IN the dorm, IN the locker. – No laundry tonight. Sign-in on 5. As I’m leaving the table… BANG! Steve! I think it turns people on their arses when he does shit like that. (I’m EXHAUSTED this morning)
10:22
10.12 HoBe (more for Monday) He bumps into me and makes a big deal about it. It tends to quiet the crowd a bit. Too funny. Anyway, he’s doing OK. 4-bed room. Not too bad as rooms go. He’s friendly as all hell. There are those I couldn’t care less about. I’m glad Steve’s ended 7 years of the E. – On my way back to my Hell-hole, stopped to chat with E3. Darsevid’s cracking bugs him too. As ’twas said: there’s the toilets, shower, court-yard; he doesn’t need to do that in the room. Well, I’m kind of amazed. I didn’t think it phased him. OK then. Later, we talked about Rockaway and how few places are left in this city with affordable housing. – It went on til about 23.00 during which time, Darsevid put on his headphones! – At last! Santiago did bed-check and… end of a LONG day.
10:24
10.23 TUESDAY… HoBe I AM SO TIRED! – Breakfast! Oatmeal, OJ, 2 “hahdberld” eggs, buttered bagel. And I SO MUCH WANT A NAP!
11:38
OK. WHY am I not able to get to Twitter at all?
20:48
20.32 E4 BM! At SIBL. But I don’t care WHERE. I’m still bloating. But… BM! – Carmine ate a great breakfast and nothing else all day… not even ice cream. I’m concerned. But he too had a good day of BMs. So I suppose I could say it was a delightfully shitty day. Indeed. – At 15.40 I was on a 53 to Woodside to the 32 bus. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for fatigue and bowel-rolling. No sleep. But the closed eyes seem to have helped. By 17.30 I was in the loo at SIBL. What came out had to be at least a half-metre ling, no breaks, pale (vanilla ice cream?) but with no effort at all. I was quite shocked… and relieved! – Accomplished at SIBL? Proofing. Bought “Iko” Belle Stars. And TD BVT needs an Asst. Head Teller! I NEED TO GET MY ARSE TOGETHER IN THIS APPLICATION! OK! – That covers SIBL. – I CAN’T GET TWITTER IN THIS PHONE AND HAVE TROUBLE IN THE iPOD BUT AM OK ON THE PCs. I DO SUSPECT BLOOMBERG/MTA. I NOW EXPECT THIS JOURNAL TO DISAPPEAR. BACK-UP! -16 back to the Dung-heap. Swift in. Only one. My most fave security at the entrance. She really turns my attitude better. Swift up in the lift. No laundry tonight. Coffee made. Radio on (of fukking course, loud enough to create feed-back in Shea Stadium). And now? Sign-in. Hopefully a nice shower and immediate fall to good half-sleep. – Belinda? If you’re reading… Thinking of you and hoping, most sincerely, that your day went well and evening is better. Odd. We’ve never met but I miss our “tweets”. Thank goodness we still have e-mail. – Sign-in time!

03/08/2011 at 08:54
8.39 HoBe Tue.2Aug11 and we got a new E1. Imagine? The turn-over in that bed! I wonder “who” is still in that corner of the room. “Who” got tortured there in the “glory” days of Bellevue. It’s strange. They come, they rest, they GO! And our new “roomie” showed at about 23.00… proceeded to towel-clean the locker, put down his own striped sheets, rattle bags, bang the locker, kept the light on. THEN APOLOGISED to DARSEVID, who kept the radio on (very low after about 23.15)! Screw Cruz and I. Eh? AND… though he’s “White” and rather “Irish-looking” I’ve a gut that says “prison”. Time will tell… time. When E1 went “for a shower” I mumbled “Oh wait until 4.30 tomorrow morning… We’ll ALL be awake for the party.” Darsevid mumbled something at me as he left the room and I suggested he could “fuk that too”.
THIS morning: Wed.4Aug11: I woke with the 1st alarm and did what was needed with a “touch” of noise. AS I LEFT, E2 woke, said nothing, just looked. Right. – Took 34 bus, A to HoBe. Arr’d here 7.10. Went to Waldbaums: roll, roast beef, Fage, Starbucks and vanilla yoghurt for Carmine. Clocked in 7.37. Mrs. at home. Mr. still snoozing. Sleeping pill at 2.00 this morning. – Me? I could use quite a nap! But it’s not too bad… being THIS tired.
14:14
14.08 At 13.56 Melanie: Carmine goes to NINE hours. “I told you when you went back (Monday).” The request didn’t go in until Monday morning when Guerda left! 14.02 Melanie: nine hours week-days, 5 hours week-ends.
15:38
15.33 I no sooner tell Mrs. that she has NINE hours per day, she gets an attitude and says it “does no good” because she wants evenings. The C.O.C. told her she can’t get evenings. In the same speech, she chastises ME because Mr.’s eating schedule is off. Why? Because she gave him a sleeping pill at 2.00, I couldn’t wake him for breakfast until 10.30 and, well, he didn’t want lunch at noon. – It’s so comforting to be appreciated. FML.

04/08/2011 at 07:31
7.07 5th floor “lounge”. The “wait” begins. – Edward Smith, the latest E1. Here from since Nov. Taxi driver. “One mistake.” “We Care” (must to look that up). How he’s been here from since Nov. and comes to us? Well, it’s to be seen. Meanwhile, he’s another “self-absorbed” and most likely loud at some point.
Yesterday: (Wed. 3Aug11) At 17.13 got the A to BwyJct to the 6 and was at SIBL by about 18.20! Quite a nut of bolting fro. train to train but I made it. – *COMPLETED THE IN-LINE APPLICATION TO TD AND, FOR REFS: Moe, Barb Taylor, Mary Tretter. Let’s see how this goes. The rest? Pretty much honest. WTF? – That, and a quick e-mail to PJ.VT was all that got accomplished. Then? Out into the rain. 34bus to 1st. Immed. in and lift to the “chambre” where… the light was on! I should have made a wash but, since it was raining, I doubted anything would dry enough. So… coffee made, an e-mail to Belinda (Hello! if you’re reading. *SMILES*), sign-in, shower. Since 1&2 were “eyes closed” I decided “lights closed”. Not for long. Darsevid and radio. Light on, radio up. The usual. Well… to be expected. I got comfy. Charged phone and iPod for the next day (today). And… bed-check. The guy actually forgot himself and put out the light after!
This morning the 4.30 alarms. 5.00 to the loo. An extra 45mins to just “lounge” on the bed. A bit of a sneeze this morning. It was a cool night and I’ve no blanket/sheet/cover. But I don’t mind. – 2 sm.BMs (and yet my bowels are still cranking! Will there ever be a morning with-out this pain?) A warm shower. The water won’t stop running and I don’t care. Dressed. Steve at the lift… at 7.00? I wonder about his “job”. (None of my business really.) (7.28 Khenkina just came in!) – My guts need to STOP CHURNING! This must be Chron’s. I must look it up. – And… after this, the DMV, SIBL/PenLib/Storage for coffee&bug spray/maybe Tilden. Another day. Another day.
08:54
8.50 M34 I was out by 8 35 with next date on my Sunday off. And Khen was SO wonderful! I got to see Crawford (husb. dying! Why? Life is rotten to the “Good” people.) – C’s Darsevid’s cw! – Khen offered: Find a 1-2 and I’ll be xf’d. Imagine? – Beautiful day… thus far.
09:28
9.16 License Express now serving B131… of B172. (I could use a loo.) To think I get off the bus every morning across the street from right here. – A note this morning: Language gives me miserable headache! From where do the words originate? Why the pronunciation? How did the words begin? The differences and similarities across languages? How do we know “1″ as “one”, “un”, “uno”, “eins” and so forth. Same with “two”. My mind reels from it. And why so? How strange. – The weather is beautiful this morning. Good “beach” morning. If only… perhaps… B139. Moving along. There must be more to it. – SIBL opens at 10. I’ll need a full phone charge this evening: phone interview for FoodStamps at 16.00. Always something to tear chunks out of a day. – I wonder if PIC is engaged in bumping me off my case. THAT is the MAJOR concern today. I almost expect it… am rather planning on needing an attorney. I’ve little doubt a court case is on the near horizon. I do NOT trust Melanie! – Time to pay some attention. 9.27 and B142 already. May it ALL go quickly. AND MAY THE NEW LICENSE ARRIVE WITH-IN TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY!
21:59
21.33 E4 Light on. Radio on. Signed & Showered. – I can’t get over what little I accomplished with this day and how quickly it disappeared. – I was out of DMV by 9.58! The license will have Fort Tilden on it! OK! – A to storage. There was a HALF jar of coffee (now in the locker). And I’ve got more bug spray. And that went along quickly. So… RiteAid, cigs, 2 “power bars” (HUNGER!) and Q35 to P.O. where the 4 JULY PAY STATEMENT WAS, MARKED “PUT IN WRONG BOX”. A MONTH? On to Waldbaums. (Our Anthony Smith E1 has anger management issues m’thinkst. Oo! Mash-up Darsevid and radio? Jolly!) 2 Fage, peaches, nasty Butterball turkey, roll, tin coffee, lemon pie. I made and ate the sandwich on the Q35 to Tilden. – Picnic table in the sun for lunch. It got to be 13.15! A pit-stop at the loo. A 413 that resulted in MUCH BUT BEIGE! REALLY BEIGE! Hmmm… But… done and to the PenLib. – Quick PC. Checked openings at TD BVT. TWO! I APPLIED! Attached a copy of the lettre and printed it. Posted the printed from the drop-box out front of the 93 office! Let’s HOPE! – 16.00 came, went, became 17.00. NO DAMNED CALL R/T FOOD STAMPS! WTF? I’ll ring HRA tomorrow morning. FTW! (21.48 Radio volume goes up. Lights still on.) – 22 to B116. Q35 to TheJct. Nr.2 to Penn. Jack’s. I want another “poly case”. Not a one! Walked up to SIBL. – E-mail fm PJ BVT. Am backing-up Deadartist to flash. Got a bit. Proofed more of this. Pretty much closed the day. – Arr’d here about 20.30. Fine. Washed t-shirt, socks. – *Note* At KingsPlaza this evening, thought: KingsPlaza was SO obscure to me, a location on the map. Then Margot made life so impossible and I began to travel. Found KingsPlaza. Moved to Rockaway. Began taking the Q35 to the B3 AT KingsPlaza. The “unknown” has become “quite familiar”, and I’m ready to leave. *Note* Listening to “The Lunatics…” on the train I HAD to grin thinking of BLASTING it in the halls HERE! HOW SO BLOODY APPROPRIATE WOULD THAT BE? – 21.57 RADIO! I’ll put out the light after bed-check (and a quick smoke?)
22:07
21.59 Darsevid rolls over, yells “HEY!” and lays there, staring at me! 22.01 BED-CHECK! Radio blaring. Darsevid laying there staring at me. I mentioned the “situation” this morning. Retaliation? OK. Maybe a stop at “Operations” tomorrow morning? I’ll have to find a “single”, put up with this until next Sunday. – And now he’s hacking shit up like a choking dog… Oh, this place gets ‘em. Just so long as he doesn’t approach me on anything. – I’ll cut out the light… quick loo smoke. Tomorrow? NAH PRESHUH I! 9 bleating hours. – 22.06 E1′s stirring. Jolly. SUN-DOWNER’S! – I should’ve gone LAST YEAR! FML.

05/08/2011 at 13:59
13.45 HoBe Last night? FU.U.U.U.K! Radio on til well past midnight. “Khhhhha-a-ak!” Sudden out-bursts of “HEY!” All from Darsevid. On into the night. It must have been about 1.30 this morning when the crack-head-retard finally ceased. THREE of us and one of “it”. But I say/do nothing. I doubt I’d have support if I do. So I leave it alone. But I fell asleep figuring ways to short-out the outlet. – This morning? Back to sleep until 5. A bit of BM! Pretty good! Shower, dress, out. No elevator! The treatment we get must be illegal. – Made it to HoBe by 7.31! Waldbaums and 14$: 2stale rolls (1 for morning coffee), 2 coffees, 2 yoghurts, 2 Buddig tutjey(turkey), breakfast bars. I brought my own food. Fuk dis shit. – Clock-in 7.48.
14:39
14.24 I had my plan: Carmine would wake, shower, eat… on time. Mrs. gave me a tough time on Wed. because he woke late and it set HER routine off. BUT SHE woke him, pushing the shower, cooking breakfast during. Inquiry about “Mike” who covered yesterday: WONDERFUL! So I wait for word that I’m off the case. – Tried 3 numbers for Food Stamps. Left a message at one. Nothing on the other 2. I see them being cut… again. FML. FTW. – Rang Melanie. No official “break” in 9hour shifts. She claims I get paid for all 9 hours. – This week’s pay? 206 for 28hours. I’m getting fed up! – Mrs. was not welcoming this morning. I’m tired. It’s hot and muggy. AND I CAN’T GET TO THE OO TO MOVE FUNDS TO TD SO NOW I HAVE TO GO TO MCU ATM, THEN TD! AND I HAVE TO TRANSFER CASH! THIS IS FUKKING STUPID! NO POST OFFICE UNTIL A WEEK FROM TOMORROW! NO SHABBAT! THIS HAD BETTER TURN TO THE BEST! IN TWO WEEKS! E-NOUGH! – 14.36 Food’s done. Air traffic is bugging me. Mr. is dozing. HOT! I’m dropping into depression. And no Twitter in the phone, no library this evening… MCU and TD in the heat (and threatened rain). (No umbrella.) EXHAUSTED!
14:45
Comment on U.S. economy: Canada went through this, several years ago. I brought cash to Viv. Today, the $CAD is stronger than the $US. The way to recovery is obvious… follow the Canadian lead. But no. The U.S. is too elitist. So, what I experienced in Montreal, today I experience in NY. But as usual, those I’d helped then aren’t here to help me. I AM SI FUKKED! – Meanwhile, I bide my time on this job, prepping for the call saying there’ll be somebody to take my place.
19:43
19.26 UnionSq. My Twitter is fukkedup! Still. Can’t even access on iPod! – But… after an unthankful day of non-appreciation, I managed to bust out at just past 17.00, get an A to BwyJct, a J to Fulton and back to Chambers (I wasn’t paying attention). MCU. Then a 6 to 14th and TD! YAY! When the teller asked if there was anything else, I said “vacation”. She gave me a Twix! SO CUTE! (But I noticed: the TD at 14th/5th? All Black. Interesting.) – So I decided to pass some time in U.Sq. Nice breeze. Lower humidity. I got on Twitter via U.Sq.WiFi, got ONE twit and KNOCKED OFF WiFi! I’m convinced: MTA and/or Bloomberg (or I’m still logged-in from too many places where I didn’t log-off? But that would kill the libraries as well so… It’s the MetroPCS IP. Yup.) – It hit me today: NO POST OFFICE for every day I work! M-F and Sat., I WORK during PO hours! SCREWED! Library time? Possibly SIBL on Sat., Tue., Wed., maybe PenLib Mon. and Thu. NO LIFE! And no appreciation. – 2 guys feeding a squirrel here… ADULTS! Ever so cute. And the place is filling. – I thought: I dreaded going “home” in Beacon, Newburgh, RockPark. I DREAD going to the sHELLter now! Will I EVER look forward to going “home” at the end of a day? – Some little shit kid is sitting on my backpack. I’ve GOT to GO… to the dregs. But… FUK THIS PLACE NYC!
21:31
21.18.E4 It’s smellin’ “shelter” in here tonight. – I passed the entry. WALKED UP to the floor! Walk in at 20.20 to Darsevid sitting it the hall out-side the TV room and the bloody radio on in the room! Went immed. to wash unders. Then to sign-in. Followed by cool shower. Here we are. – It is THE PERFECT night to be out on the dunes! There’s even a BREEZE COMING THROUGH THE ROOM! But there’s a threat of bad storms to come and with the coolness of the breeze it looks likely. Alas. – I have to say, I hope Fran, PJ and Belinda are dropping by here from time-to-time. Twitter being blocked, I don’t want to lose touch with them. – Well. 21.25. Anthony and I are here. He’s on the phone. He amazes me: well-spoken and yet SO inconsiderate with the SLAMMING of his locker! Oh well oh well. It’s why I generally have no compassion for the general Homeless in general [sic]. – That roach spray isn’t working well. Still getting one IN the locker every day. I need to spray again. (I wonder if it’d work on the Big Roach… Darsevid.) – Waiting for bed-check. Not that it makes any difference one way or another. – Final note: My guts churn, gas, all day long! Almost uncontrollable. Nerves… the root of it all. – 21.31 KA-SLAM!

06/08/2011 at 06:31
6.25 34/1 But down here in “reality” everybody knows there ain’t no such thing… – A delightful morning weather-wise. And the body rages the daily battle… churning guts. – The “game” (baseball) ended early (22.00) last night. The radio went off. And the night passed with light on, light off, light on, light off… This morning? The 3 of them in bed. There are those to whom shelter should be limited then flatly denied. I work, and from my salary come taxes which cover the “rent” for what I have AND what I use: the shower and the bed.
06:41
6.33 M16 A bed and shower. Out by 6.00. In at 20.30. One set of linens. No food. No laundry soap. No bath products. No toilet paper. It’s my own fault, really. I SHOULD MOOCH, LEECH, LEARN TO BE PARASITIC. – And now? To where NONE of what I do is appreciated. Well, when I was dismissed yesterday by Mr. I got it off my chest: “You get service for free. Your wife gets 9 hours of baby-sitting for free. Handouts. No charge. So she goes and does what she wants all day… FREE. NO CHARGE TO EITHER OF YOU. I cook and clean and wash your shitty/pissy arse. And you dismiss me. Imagine that.” I need to get out of this, out of here. – Life is a heart-ache and now I need to be free.
07:54
7.36 Q35 bus3622 to HoBe. LATE! I won’t have time to get food which means I won’t be able to eat. I’m losing time which means I’m losing income. No doubt there’ll be some snarky comment when I arrive. I probably won’t get library time which means no-where to go to avoid the shelter… in the forecast rain. – M16 to 34th/8th where the A is running LOCAL. So, C to 42nd and a WALK through tunnels to the 7 that sat in the station for the longest. Finally we leave… somebody plays “Hold the door”. Then at 61st/Woodside this driver has to be reminded he’s supposed to drive the bus and the “supervisor” jokes about. – 7.44 CoronaAv/Broadway. Not even on QueensBlvd yet! NO way will I make HoBe by 8.00 never mind be AT work by then! – This morning’s Daily News: “It’s becoming unbearable to live here… NYer.” I’ve just spent the past 30 minutes or so pondering suicide. I truly cannot take more. Physically I’m being ripped apart internally. Mentally I’m losing my grip trying to “escape” by trying to sleep every time I get on bus or train. (7.50 and we sit at Woodhaven/Queens.) Emotionally I’m on the verge of murder… self and/or others. One more thing is about all it’s going to take. So, this morning, again I do my inventory and mentally reserve time and place for my departure. Thankfully I have all that I need. THAT is my solace. DEATH ALONE IS MY SOLACE!
19:41
19.16 A MOST HORRIBLE DAY all told. I stopped at Waldbaums for food and arr’d to work at 8.25! But got a beautiful “Good morning!” from Mrs.E. Mr.E was already at table and the bed was already stripped. But then, shower-time and Mr.E turned evil. Refused to get into the tub, COVERED in shit! Became combative. And today I re-realised: PTSD. He raised his arm to me and THAT was THE END! Yes. I list it. I didn’t strike him. But my words were cruel, horrid, vicious! I now regret each syllable but I must remember to simply walk away… Particularly because, when it was time to leave, I was in his good graces again. Still, I don’t see this case lasting much longer. I say so because Mrs. is extremely dissatisfied with the time-frame. Never satisfied, these people. 8-17.00 doesn’t suit her. She wants something round 17-20.00. Like most, she doesn’t understand that those are not hours that people want to work AND she has family to help her in the evening. For 20$/hr I’d give her 3 evenings, 17-18.00. Certainly NOT more than that and CERTAINLY NOT 10$/hr. How do I see this ending? Another of her “Agency switches” or somebody private. Right now I actually can’t work later than 18.00, needing to be in the Dung-heap by 20.00 and not being able to depend on public transport. Well. What will happen will happen. – My guts are all twisted and I keep having huge bubbles of gas. But each time I allow me to the toilet, a little bit comes out. Maddening. – After work, to PenLib. More proofing, cleaned a bit of “Yehudah ben HaGalut”, checked e-mails. – Shuttle to A to L to 3rdAv to JAM for a poly box. (I’m beginning to get dozey here at 19.35.) Nothing. Checked CVS, Walgreens. Nope. Bus up to RiteAid on 2nd Av. Cigs. To the Dung-heap. – (19.37 RADIO TIME! It’s been off all the while. I KNEW it’d come on… at “time to rest”. I ignore. LIGHTS ON! Intentional? Or crack blindness? LIGHTS OUT! RADIO ON!) – WALKED up to the floor. Washed 2 t-shirts, socks, good unders. (19.40 HE’S SMOKING IN THE ROOM!) Coffee made.
19:50
Sprayed the floor against roaches. – Too bad don’t have a bag of nettles for his bed. I’ll think of something (19.44 Radio off. Hmmm…). Just for Schitzengiggles. Meanwhile, I’ll look for a single on the floor- OH! MESSAGE FROM SCHMULIK! Text, of course. ‘By now you’re in VT. Hopefully you’ll find happiness. You deserve it.’ (19.47 Radio on again. Baseball.) Fukkim! I can’t be any more bothered than he could. Now I’ve Sat. Sun. evenings but I won’t contact him anymore. – I NEED a shower. – I NEED some SLEEP

07/08/2011 at 06:03
5.59 M16 Guts are stabbing. I woke at 4.25 before the alarm. Went to sleep last night SO tired! The radio was on at a decent volume. – Tiny BM this a.m. But… PAIN! – Rain this morning. – Hopefully sleep on the A.
12:26
12.15 HoBe 29deg Heat Index 33. But I’m ready to simply drop dead. This needs to stop! Truly. And it doesn’t help when I think: I shouldn’t be here. “This is obviously not where I’m supposed to be.” A year ago I should have just left it all. A week ago I should have taken the jump. And I think: no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I work, I can’t get enough together to land on my feet. No matter what. Nine hours a day. This morning? I made it to work at 7.52. Awake at 4.25 following a restless night and making it to work at almost 8.00. For what? A pay-cheque that’s worth less than over-used toilet paper. AND as I journal this? No bloody phone signal! FML! Indeed! But I can’t take: no fan, no cooling in the dorm. 4 adults. No air. And the humidity… Murder. – What I’ll do when I leave here today, I’ll try for MMLib but… no where, no why.
14:58
14.54 MMLib and the usual slow-as-shit-worthless WiFi AND NO AIR CONDITIONING! – Forgot to mention: This morning’s ride, 34th to HoBe… LOCAL ALL THE WAY! – The day went by. Mr.E. got no shower. Mrs.E. came to give him lunch. I ate almost everything I’d bought this morning en route: HAD to buy a pkg of rolls (6), ONE pkg Buddigs, ONE yoghurt, ONE coffee, a tin of peaches and a sm. jar of honey (that I wanted to have with a roll but couldn’t because Mrs. wouldn’t leave). Anyway, I was done eating by about 11.00. – 15.38 MMLib on the usual piece of shit PC. – Ram is here! Imagine that! He got out of the shelter system and into a half-way house where he’s found trouble. Now renting a room some-where and having more trouble. Imagine THAT? (I can.) Anyway, I’m trying to catch up with some of this cleaning (move comments here, proof there, back-up else-where). And it’s so hot in here that I’m soaking wet already! FUK THIS CITY! I’M OUT!!!!

07/08/2011 at 20:15 (Edit)
19.55 Quite the hour. Quite the heat. 29,5 but I’m drenched in sweat, having been in from since about 18.30, straightened the locker (because E1 was in, alone, light on, READING A BOOK. I commented, jokingly, that “we don’t read here”. He was not amused. Alas.) And so I washed towel (which stunk terribly from dampness) and today’s t-shirt which was soaked from such sweat! – I did get out from work at 13.00. I did get to MMLib where, along with the drama of Ram, I accomplished moving “comments” here to main page, copied more Deadartist to Flash-drive, and proofed November on Flash. Off in search if a poly-case for the back-pack. – Jack’s 41stSt., the R to UnionSq. and walked to 14th/7th. ContainerStore (where I lingered in the air conditioning), BedBathBeyond (more lingering) and the 14bus to 1st for the 15. In. Done. – *Note: I can sit all day, in the breeze of the fan, at E’s… no major cramping. BUT… on the way TO/FROM (MTA?) I’m in PAINFUL HELL! And thinking about here… cramps. *NERVES* I’m killing m’self with nerves!* – OH OH OH! (FUK THIS PHIBE.PHONE!) The last msg. from Schmulik when we didn’t meet? I MIS-READ IT! I THOUGHT HE WANTED ME TO WAIT FOR HIM! HE OFFERED TO WAIT FOR ME! OH JOLLY FUKKUP FUKME! REALLY! (And now he believes me In VT and I’ve no intebrion.intention of correcting. Time to begin letting all this shit go. – Something’s up in here. I CAN’T STOP THE SWEATS! I’m DRENCHED! Hmmm….

08/08/2011 at 06:21 (Edit)
6.07 34/1 “No Arrival Times” – It’s something, being in a “hospital zone”. I come and go, to/from work, in scrubs, and fit right in. And I’m in the shadows of a rather prestigious hospital at that. – And despite a good BM this morning, good temperature, breeze, lower humidity, DAMN! my gut just wrenched. Really. WTF? Makes my hands tremble. – Last evening, the toilet room was FLOODED! From the sinks all across ALL the stalls! When I went to sign-in, I humbly asked the “security” guard if I could use the mop. She was kind and understanding. I thank her for that. And so, I found the mop and went right to work. Odd? Only ONE guy “thanked” me. Only ONE. While I mopped the loo, Darsevid comes in to have a smoke, looks, leaves. Went to the shower-room. I knew THAT was wet too so I mopped in there as well while I had the mop. Darsevid in the stall, commenting about how I’m a “bitch”. Apparently, the cleaning bothers him… terribly. I finished and left him, staring at me through the slightly open stall door. No further comments. (I wouldn’t call him a “piece of shit”… status too high.) – Restless… Difficult falling asleep last night. Radio low (mostly) but just couldn’t drift off. – This morning, wanted more sleep but managed to get up.
06:30 (Edit)
6.22 M34 So much for trying for the P.O. THIS morning. – Surprisingly, I’m not “tired” this morning… no more than usual. But yes, intestinal distress. I wonder: I drink the tap water in the building; could it be THAT that’s making for this pain? – The fellow who wears pink silk shirts just boarded (Lex). Today’s is “hot pink”. NYC. (How I HATE it.) – And so, last night, this morning and another day of hate and pain… off to a thankless job, to be grossly under-paid, under-appreciated to wait for the call to “clock-out and leave”… Daily, I await the notice that I’m “off the case”. It helps my nerves… and guts… NOT!
08:09 (Edit)
8.00 HoBe Left the dorm at 6. Arr’d Penn 6.35. Bloody A at 6.43. Stopped quickly at Waldbaums. Clocked-in 7.45. Mr. vomited last night. Mrs. washing floors when I arr’d. Good(ish) mood. – MY guts are a little better but if she’s to be in… no waiting for me today. – V8 in fridge. (I put it in the fridge yesterday, behind the Bisquick… SUDDENLY she decides: pancakes for bkfst.! UNfukkungbelievable!) – FS posted! I’m about to be SKEE-ROOD! (ASSume the position…) – PS: Little Thumper was frisky this morning… for no particular reason. I wonder what that’s all about.) – 8.06 Mrs. walked out the door. No comment. I guess I don’t “exist”. – Grant that I pull only ONE WEEK MORE, accrue enough to GO, get the JOB in BVT and LEAVE from here!) – Radio on. MTA fukking about with trains. THIEVES! INCOMPETENT THIEVES!)
08:11 (Edit)
Note: Walking down Huron I felt unbelievably and horrifyingly SO TIRED! I actually desired to lay down on the pavement and sleep…
15:11 (Edit)
15.03 HoBe: Funny; on TV, someone is dying, forgiveness becomes all-important. “I have a brother. He’s not in my life anymore. It’s been x years.” – “But down here in reality, everybody knows there ain’t no such thing…” If ANY of my “family” came ANY-WHERE near me… let’s just say, there is NO “forgiveness”. Bury me in hate and grudges. What makes me cry is the stupidity of people who put themselves in a position to be betrayed… again. Sad. – There’s nothing that can be “forgiven” and I’ve no desire.
16:20 (Edit)
16.07 53 minutes. 90 minutes. Time… to pack my human dignity back into that compartment where I hide it, protect it from the onslaught of the sick joke of “security” guards and “peace officers” who do their best to make me look and feel like something less than the cockroaches that invade my tin locker every night whilst I half sleep. Time for the intestinal cramps to return with a vengeance. Time to not go “home”. Time to, as daily, think about going “Home” and wondering why I’m not there already. Time. It keeps running down and out and by. And another night of witnessing the evil that man can be. – l Where to go from 17-20.00? Can’t go back in there before 20.00. Can’t handle the degradation, the insanity. It’s really becoming too heavy a burden. – I must make it through Friday. Why?… … … I just don’t know.
18:26 (Edit)
18.21 MMLib (no air, no fan, no shit) I MUST JOURNAL THIS! 18.00 F train coming into The City. I happened to look at the notes being written by a woman seated to my left. “Progress Notes”. First line: “encouraged pt. to decrease social isolation” And at that very moment, on my iPod… Fun Boy Three “The Lunatics Have Taken Over The Asylum”! I almost lost my own control! Sometimes “Life” is, well, hysterically hysterical!

09/08/2011 at 05:33 (Edit)
5.25 34th/1st M34 – Herzlich Geburtstag Liebe Oma! – The piece of shit MTA phone-thing said “M16 at 5.44″. Now, although I’m on a bus I doubt this timing will work well. I’m trying for the P.O. this morning. Let’s see how terribly late this city can make me today. – No BM. No time. But no PopTart before bed last night. But did have nice schmooze with Cruz3. Rockaway and lead in our water. (Do I have/Am I getting poisoned?) – 5.33 HeraldSq.
07:46 (Edit)
7.34 Q53 B94 to HoBe And so, on this perfect morning, in the place I called “Home”, I’ve been to the P.O.(opens 6.30) for one pay advice and Waldbaums(opens 7.00) and had the previous Q53 pull away as I arrived at the stop. And I’m exhausted already, not in the mood for what’s anticipated for the following 10 hours. Imagine? 10 hours out of 24. – Being in Rockaway puts me in a rather blue mood. Last night Cruz3 asked about busses at night, Winters, trains and commented on the Black population. Talking about it made me homesick. Being there this morning… I miss some of it (as I waited for the bus, Walter-from-the-pink-house was at the corner). But I must be honest with myself: I no longer want to be anywhere in NY State and MOST CERTAINLY NOT IN NY CITY! It’s very much time to leave here… for ever for good. I’ve nothing to “connect” with/to here. Nothing. Nobody. And this isn’t “Life”. – N.Channel. 7.46.
15:20 (Edit)
15.18 HoBe 14.39 the phone. “Unknown”. Usually I don’t take those but something told me… TD BVT! OMG! To take the time, to acknowledge the lettre! I’m in awe! PEOPLE! REAL PEOPLE! OH PLEASE? OH PLEASE? May it be THE GOOD omen! (I’ve gone giddy.) – And? RAIN! Delightful rain!
20:08 (Edit)
19.42 Dung-heap. 28,5degrees in here! Jeezizfukkinkriste! It never cools! This place must actually BE Hell! Yes. That’s it. It IS Hell. It’s history is pain and suffering. It’s present is pain and suffering. THIS is Hell. We’re allowed to leave so we can see where we’d rather be. Then we come back in… remembering where we’d been… and in here, with the banging, yelling, stench, filth, mice, roaches, waterbugs and other parasitic vermin we know there IS better, but WE are HERE. Hell. – (I’ll add my bloating, gas, constipation, cramps… BINGO!) – As I left E’s, R.A.I.N. DELUGE! WIND! DRENCHED! Got to the 53bus at CrossBay? Stopped. I was drying off? SPLASH! Bastard in a sporty Nissan pulls into the gutter. OK then. – Relatively empty bus to JamAv for the J to BwyJct at about 18.00. Fukme, didn’t get to 1stAv until almost 18.50. Too late for SIBL (and my guts were CHURNING AND KNOTTING AND CRAMPING). So… I got the M15 to here. – Washed the work scrubs, socks, t-shirt. Now to figure HOW to be in bed with a wet t-shirt on the frame. IF I thought I could trust Darsevid, I could put the shirt at the foot of the bed. But… – Reminding me… I BLOODYFUKKING LEFT THE LOCKER UN-LOCKED TODAY GAHDAMN ME! THAT just truly, madly, deeply pisses me off! That I’m THAT GAHDAMN DUMBASS-STUPID! SHIT! But I don’t see that anything’s gone missing. Still! SHIT! – Thought: Cruz3 was talking about lead in the water here. Cramps. Constipation. Inability to focus. Memory loss. Sx of poisoning. Possible? I’ve made coffee with water from the cooler. I’ll start bringing water from HoBe. No more drinking from the basin and we’ll see what happens. – 20.03 Radio on reasonably. 2&3 dozing (they do it so well). 3 is in the hall being his congenial self and I’m sweating like mad. 10 hours of no air conditioning. Brief reprieve on public transport. Then in here… HEAT! – I’d wanted to do some proofing at SIBL, send an e-mail, lodge a complaint against B59 HRA. Stuff to be done. But I did laundry. (Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring the beard trimmer…
20:10 (Edit)
Cut my hair. Will have to figure the clean-up. But I don’t want to do it here. – The sweat is dripping into my eyes. Time to fund another past-time. TOO HOT IN HERE!

10/08/2011 at 06:22 (Edit)
6.20 M15 Wrong. Terribly wrong. Weak. Hands, &c. Big abdominal pain. Lead? What? Just wrong.
10:25 (Edit)
9.59 HoBe It’s interesting; a thing that very few will discuss is probably THE most important aspect of humanity: elimination. That said… This morning was one for immense concern. I woke at 3.15 because I had to pee. That’s starting? Up from sleep to pee? Great. Then, I got out of bed at almost 5.30! No BM. Brush teeth. Shower. Clean scrubs this morning! But the world was some-what “removed” and my intestines churned and gurgled. But it was the mind that wouldn’t stop and focus. “2 bottles for water” became “2 socks for water”, “an egg sandwich” became “fried underwear sandwich”. Thoughts. Scrambled. – After I was dressed and ready to go, BAM! HAD to go. GAS! NOTHING is coming out. And when something does, it’s precious little. (10.11 Phone. “631 Name Unavailable”. FukU. Bye.) – Somehow I made it to the bus by 6.16. But I felt as though I was standing in a world to which I didn’t belong. – M15 to the L. GUTS trying to BURST and… PSSSSTTTT! Stand-still IN THE TUNNEL! 6.30-6.44. No announcement until the recorded msg. from the NYPD re. searching back-packs! Sitting there, contemplating possibilities: having to let my bowels go… TRAPPED in a tunnel under the East River. Finally… off we go. BwayJct. I tried the JamaicaAv train. S.L.O.W.!!! Woodhaven: PACKED 53 and a 21. I took the 21. Guts churning and cramping all the way. – Waldbaums: Forgot my coffee but got Gatorade(for the bottle, to bring water from HoBe to the sHellter), yoghurt, fruit. – 7.56 clock-in. – I get here? Guts seem so much calmer. Not perfect, but better. – And now? MrE and I are in the livingroom. Breakfast done. I fried 4 eggs for sandwich. And now? I’d like a nap.
13:16 (Edit)
13.08 This bloody ohine(phone). Dropped the whole post. Typical. – 12.58 Phone. AZIZ! Yesterday, TD. Today, Aziz. Good things, 2 days in a row. Something’s about to come, and I’m not sure I’m going to like it. That’s the way it goes. – I’m trying a pair of pull-ups today. My other-wise existence has come to this. – CHECK-OUT time! – I can’t look into my health: 1.I can’t afford to take time off work. 2.I can’t miss sign-in/bed-check. 3.I can’t get anybody to tell me the status of my insurance… IF I have any. – Too long. I’ve been here too long.

11/08/2011 at 06:02 (Edit)
5.58 14/1st Early? Twice sm. BM. I’m dehydrated. And yet, gut still painful. Will I ever have a pain-free morning? Ever? – “There is no Hell. After this, there’s only peace.” –
15:37 (Edit)
15.28 HoBe This morning, I woke to the alarm and to the noise in the hall. Noise from some guy scraping the floor! CLEANING? Are we due for a “Callahan”? It certainly can’t be for the sake of house-keeping. And what about the fact that we’ve only one pane of glass in the window? Will the missing pane be replaced (by translucent plexi, no doubt)? The guy had to close our door, but was most thoughtful, closing it quietly and letting me go about getting ready for work. I wonder: will they adjust the water temperature in the showers where ONLY HOT WATER comes through now, fix the leaks so I won’t have to mop? I just wonder. – Well, even with quick market, I was here by 7.30! OK. ONE more day! But it would’ve been better passed at Tilden. Clear skies, clear air, warm sun, cool breeze. Me trapped.
19:18 (Edit)
19.09 N.Channel to HoBe. High tide on the bay and tonight it crushes my heart to leave Rockaway. Egrets on the channel island, roosting in trees, fishing on the shore. Painful. – A very nice day at work. A PERFECT day to have been at Tilden. But… And, oddly enough, my guts were good all day… until now. Until now. Until now. – E-mail fm. PJ. Health care refs. E-mail fm. TD. Nope. Oh well. “Over-qualified” no doubt. And the NY thing. I’m going to have to just “jump”. I see it coming. One way or another. – Strange, when I began this entry, a call from… VT! But a msg. in SPANISH! I’ll have to check. – For now? RockBlvd. 19.16. I’m not too concerned about arrival at the Dung-heap. Though I do must wash “the” shirt for the week-end. – Statement printed. I’m “accomplished. – I should be at “home”… in the other direction. – I have to close my eyes now… my guts hurt.

12/08/2011 at 06:14 (Edit)
6.06 M15 Last evening, made it in just in time, in spite of a bit of chaos at the entrance. Some monkeys simply can not be “trained”. Walked up to the 6th. Unpacked & hit the loo. Another half-metre cleared-out… effortlessly. (So why am I still in all sorts of pain this morning? Even after yet another movement? Something inside is terribly wrong. I do want to know what it is, but not if it’s something I can do nothing about.) – The intestinal pain is now so great at times that I go so weak that it feels like my entire body collapses-in on itself. My hands and arms go weak!
06:22 (Edit)
6.15 M14 Fingers, legs, even my feet suddenly give-up. If I’m walking, the need to simply lie down on the sidewalk is almost over-powering. Sitting on the bus/train, I close my eyes. For some reason, looking at anything at all makes my gut wrench. It’s not nausea. I don’t want to vomit. I feel as if I need to “blow” my bowels clear… yet, most often it’s gas and nothing more. My abdomen’s not distended. But there’s the sensation. – Must continue later. This phone-shit and bus… I’m aggravated.
11:30 (Edit)
11.23 I have just done THE “Homeless”: hair-cut in someone else’s loo! Yep! In the E’s. Quick. Not absolutely perfect, not bad, nice trim. And now I’m itchy. BUT… looking a lot better for it. Yes. Nekkid to the waist, buzzing away, door open. AND… hand-washed Mr.’s T (no pun) after a nice splash of chocolate Ensure. Swept the evidence, down the carsie. Had my yoghurt. Had a smoke. PT coming round noon. Now… to see what the remainder of this hysteria will mete out. – I WANT A DRINK! – The cramps are lurking. Not “here”. But “there” some-where. – I need a nap. – And the weather’s good.
21:16 (Edit)
21.02 e2 Signed and showered. The day went well though Mr. slept mostly and needs a shave but the electric pulls and he interprets it as intentional. So… PT canceled. I tried to stay awake. Then… 17.00! Found the poly-things at the 99cent on CrossBay. White. But they’re better than none. I got 2. I HATE THAT STORE! Cashiers are slow and RUDE! But I don’t go often so… – Q53 to JamaicaAv for the J… Beginning of the end. S.L.O.W.!S.H.I.T.! to MCU. On to the 6 to the 4 to GCT to TD to Deposit YES! Done… 19.00. It took THAT long! Next? Staples to copy pay statement. CLOSED AT 19.00! Shit! So M15 to 30th. A young Asian fellow inquired about the flags on the back-pack. We chatted until mid-block when I cut across (not wanting to draw attention to going into the Dung-heap)(imagine that). – In with-out incident. Lift to 6th. LIGHT ON. E1 in. E2 and 3 out. Washed unders. Signed. Showered. – 21.14 It’s quiet in here for now. 1 and 4 are in. I’m out for a smoke and a turn-in. Tomorrow I have “plans”. Little Thumper’s getting a REAL 413!

13/08/2011 at 18:49 (Edit)
18.45 Q23 Fleet/69thAv. WHAT A DAY! (And now. back to the bloody cramps. NONE all day.) – Storage. P.O. License! Waldbaums. RiteAid. PenLib. Tilden. 413! TENS! 411. Sang! 3 shots vodka. Storage. Staples. Michael’s. Bus…
20:31 (Edit)
20.06 The Dung-heap. 1 and 4 in. Lights on. 28,5deg. in here. – OK. The day: Out by about 6.30 I believe. M15 to 57th. The Q32 was almost 15mins. late. I suppose, for NYC MRA that’s “on time” (or early). Off to the 53 to Storage where I got the ladder, got the items I wanted (incl. beach things… never used) and was off! 53 to the P.O. where the only piece of mail was… TAH DAH THANK YOU LORD! THE DRIVER’S LICENSE! HALELUJAH! Nothing left to tether me to NY! (Except money… enough to GO!) Waldbaums next for tin of coffee, bottle of water, cereal bars. Light “meal” today. Then walked the “Freeway” to RiteAid. 2 packs cigs. 2 “power bars”. The 53 to PenLib. Bought “I Can’t Stand The Rain” (iTune) (Memories of Joyce and les Mouches… GOOD GOOD Memories.) And checked e-mails, ThumperNYC and 8539266 Twitters. Since I have the “Blacknotes” again, proofed a few dog-ears. ON TO… TILDEN! – It was about noon already. Stopped at a concrete picnic table for coffee and “lunch” (bkfst.bars) and then strolled T4 parking lot to Hero to Shore to the Fresh Pond path. I avoid T6 and 7 at all costs now.

14/08/2011 at 19:41 (Edit)
(19.13E4) The walk along the Hero Rd. was fun today. I carry proof of residency IN Ft. Tilden now! Little do the non-readers of this Journal know, indeed I DID “reside” there in. And on the Shore Rd.! But today, it’s quite official. And so I had to grin. – Along the Shore to the FreshPond path. Along the Ranger Rd. to the Center Rd. back to the Marshal Rd. and… my 413. I regret I didn’t bring a Maglite. But I hooked-up, harnessed, clamped and in mere moments… BaDANG! And this time, not beige! WHAT a delightful RELIEF! I’d brought the left-over 100proof and so, saluted the “413″. Today, however, I did NOT want to leave! I lingered, figuring how to set-up house there. It was actually sad to leave today. I lingered… the left “JAK AUG ’11 DEADARTIST”. (If anyone reads this and wants to arrest me… fine. OK. No prob. Get buggered.) I took a few photos then, as I stared, it came to me: 413. 4 plus 1 plus 3 is 8! August! Of no particular import… or is it? Well, I’ll probably never know. In addition to my little load on the floor, I spilled a “toast” before leaving. I’m “there” now. I hope I’ll be able to return some day. – Strolled back down the Marshal Rd. and over to the air-ship bunker where I got the urge… Went to 411. There, I belted a few songs with the help of the iPod: Calling My Children, Sand And Water, Dimming Of The Day, Time To Say Goodbye, Miserere, The Morning After… I SANG! SANG WITH ALL I HAD! I FRIGGIN’ BLOODY-WELL SANG! It felt WONDERFUL! I finished the vodka (what little was left) and left the bottle and an empty Camel pack in 411. Not to litter. To leave a bit of my visit. And it got to be almost 16.30! I just did NOT want to leave! Fuk ME! – Back on the Marshal, Centre, Ranger, Pond Path… the beach plums are coming into season… will I be here for them this year? I’m more hoping “No” than “Yes” even though it would be nice to taste them again. And along the Shore Rd. at the east end of which… JOSE! He commented “You don’t associate with that…”
19:48 (Edit)
Meaning he knows I don’t go to swim whilst the riff-raff shit is there. There’s talk of closing the beach off. Talk of NPS selling permits for concessions! MY time at Tilden is gone… Sad. – I left. 22 to immediate 53 to storage to return TENS, pick-up a few toiletries. – NO CRAMPS TODAY UNTIL I WENT BACK TO STORAGE… ON THE WAY BACK TO THE DUNG-HEAP. OK. Tells tomes!
20:00 (Edit)
Made it back by about 19.45. Right through the “Building Security” and walked up. Shit! I’d been standing most of the day and my legs were painful. But Anthony1 was in, cleaning his locker. We talked. Hr spoke! We chatted about keeping the place clean. He mops! YAY! CLEAN! – Signed in. Showered. End of a day I wish had gone along forever… But, it was time, to return to… SHIT-HELL. Good(?)night. – But today? I had a drink. I had my 413. I did NOT tarry at the Dung-heap. It was well.
20:24 (Edit)
20.00 14.08 Today: From E4. This morning, I slept til almost 5.30! Leg cramps galore through the night. – Quick coffee, shower, dress, to the 5th floor. Appointment with “The Warden”. Though I do enjoy meeting with her. She always asks “Do you have time?” Indeed, today I did. It was pouring with rain! But our meeting went by, she took my documents, gave me my meal tkt until next Sunday (I’ll have to RUSH! to get here) and I was out. – Off to Brighton. Jackie’s. I need a light jacket now. But Jackie’s had nothing. Truly. Nothing. B68 to 99cent Limit. They’ve re-orged. Much less merchandise, particularly from Israel. AND… they’ve gone the 1,49$ route! But I got 6 Dettol and 4 challah rolls (which, aside from 6 PopTarts, is all I’ve eaten all day. My guts will be spiffy tomorrow.) I headed back… NO TRAINS! I MEAN “NO” TRAINS! They flooded again! The ONLY trains out of Brooklyn were leaving from TheJct.! Well, leave it to NYC and the MTA. FukUps. But in due coarse… the Q to 34th to the D to MMLib. Got a PC. Faulty mouse, SLOW cpu! STUNK! STINK! STANK! FUNK! Damned non-bathers! But… I’ve backed-up ALL of “DeadArtist” today. AND… E-MAILS FROM BELINDA AND P.J.! It made me SO happy!!! They’ve become my “friends”… Friends. – It was 15.00 when I left. I walked to Jack’s for some cleaning stuff. I wanted to wipe-down my locker. Jack’s had NOTHING at all. I bought NOTHING! A 16bus to RiteAid where I bought wipes, a freshener, pack of cigs and came back to the Dung-heap (or, perhaps, “Snake Pit”). Darsevid was in and I got busy… emptied the locker section-by-section and GOOD thing too! ROACHES in the back of the too shelf AND upper corner of large area! ROACHES! FUK! So it got a GOOD wipe-down and some spray. Clean… for now. – Darsevid left as I began to clean. – Anthony1 came in. We talked. He sealed the mouse hole in the wall. Funds Darsevid to be nasty and rude. A shame they’re in the same wall. But… – Locker clean. Smelling fresh. I need a shower. Have taken a top sheet for tonight. 1,2 and 4 in.
20:27 (Edit)
20.24 Darsevid just strolled out. The light’s been on all evening. We’ve been lounging (as it were). Old radio programmes (WBAI). I’m looking forward to sign-in, shower and ending this day. Tired, indeed. Just tired.
20:56 (Edit)
20.53 Just noting: Sign-in on 5. LAST NIGHT’S SHEET! Put a check next to your name. I initialed. I anticipate mayhem. I’m going for my shower.

15/08/2011 at 06:06 (Edit)
5.59 M34 After a good night’s sleep… I got out, across from NYU and BLAM! Cramped right up. Why? Why when I’m clear of everything, and early enough to take the commute easy? Worry about MTA? Worry about difficulties on the job? Or the sudden absence of needing to be in guard? A sudden reduction in stress? What? – Killing your neighbour, homeycide. Homeysexuality. Homeygeneous. Homey-genius. Thought-line this morning.
08:14 (Edit)
8.12 HoBe 7.32 clock-in. “Meal” purchased… no rolls though… Waldbaums. – Spoke with Mrs. Good mood this morning. Me? Suddenly EXHAUSTED!
21:40 (Edit)
21.31 Dung-heap. Just notes. OK day. Mr.E. in good mood. JigsPT.VNS implied Mr. has sores. I’m “concerned” only about the implication. – Impressive clouds this evening. Photos taken. – PenLib after work. MUCH progress on proofing this Journal! NOTED: The same stomach troubles last time I was here! Nerves? Most likely. – Got back just past 20.00. – Need to do laundry. No time. No energy. Won’t dry over-night. – NOTE: Much younger boys coming in on 7th floor. NOT GOOD! They mean thefts and instigations of all sorts of trouble. – 21.38 Signed in. Showered. Last night, slept under a doubled sheet. Not tonight. Warm 26deg. – Darsevid in foul mood. Radio on but low. – Time to call this… a day.

16/08/2011 at 06:02 (Edit)
5.55 34/1st. Dear Me: As your guts twist and knot each day, remember… The very same thing happened, daily, the last time you were here. This isn’t new. It’s part of being in the sHellter. Perhaps it’s because, no matter what, unconsciously or other-wise, even in sleep, the mind and body remain prepped in a constant state of “fight or flight”… just as it was through child-hood. It’s nerves, and being so, is controllable by your state of mind.
07:49 (Edit)
7.35 HoBe Yes, the reminder of the previous “stay” helps a bit, I do believe. Proofing this is beneficial to better well-being. This morning’s commute was much better. I even listened to music! Juan Luis Guerra. No “panic” along the way and no dozing. OK! But, no umbrella and… rain in HoBe. Alas. We’ll see what the day brings. I didn’t get to the market. There’s coffee here. And Mrs.E. told me to eat what-ever is here. She told me again this morning. So, today perhaps I’ll mooch. There’s roast beef left from my yesterday’s market. I’m good. – Last night got chilly. I used the sheet again. Time to think “blanket”. 1 has his own linens. 2 has his nasty blanket. 3 will have something, no doubt. I just don’t want to bring in anything more that will have to be brought out. – I still can’t believe how early I was this morning. Got up on 4th alarm (4.45). Took my time in the bowl (nothing). But made it very early. Warm shower this morning too. – Suddenly very tired.
07:57 (Edit)
J, just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you and sending warm wishes. I’m also concerned about your health :( Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
Thanks for the friendship, it came at a time when I really needed it.
Hugs and blessings
Belinda

17/08/2011 at 05:56 (Edit)
5.53 34th/1st Goodmorning Belinda. Goodmorning PJ. Goodmorning ShutupImTweetin. Goodmorning Lou. Goodmorning Correspondents.
06:07 (Edit)
Well indeed, ’twas an eve-interesting last. I’ve one more month to proof on this part of my Journal! It’s almost complete. What then, there-after? I neither know, nor really care. It’s the accomplishment alone, the documentation of… – Coming into the Dung-heap, a queue if considerable length. Too many young (20′s), Black boys. Something is at hand. Them, and the attention to cleaning the common halls. I wonder. – A close encounter/altercation on the queue. The typical: 2 Blacks v. the Jew. Jumping the queue and making their excuses. So “typical”, so very “common”. To be expected. – Darsevid/Radioboy made a “tent”. – To be continued… We’re at 7th. Tunnels Time.
08:09 (Edit)
7.57 HoBe The “tent”: Apparently the crack got to him today and the light and conversation between E1 and myself in the room disturbed him terribly. So he pulled his funky comforter up over his head, secured it somehow and cocooned himself in. As E1 and I spoke, Darsevid raised and lowered the volume on his radio. I did want to photo the farce but with crack-heads… not safe. We opted to be mildly amused and ignore. – Signed-in as I got in this evening… after walking up the 6 flights. So a bit of laundry got done, I showered after bed-check. Lights out (but radio still on) by 22.30. – Oh. E1 got a buzz-cut. Looking clean. 1,99$ at the school where many from the sHellter go. The school used to do it for free and I remember Rey coming in several times with little nicks on his head. Ah, Memory Lane. – Must note: the e-mails from Belinda and PJ have become a connection to stability, sanity and general better over-all well-being. I’m quite blessed.
08:28 (Edit)
8.10 HoBe Today: CLEAR, BLUE SKIES. Just warm/cool enough to be a perfect day to put a blanket on the grass and doze. (FAT BLEATING CHANCE.) – No cramps this morning. Having read (in previous posts here) that it happened before, and no longer drinking the tap water has helped! I’m not certain which helped more but that’s not important just now. Still, knowing it was identical the previous “stay” I do believe it’s something to do with nerves, stress and the water. OK. – En route to the bus, 32/1st, late 20′s Black kid, sitting AT the corner, on the pavement, nodding, paper bag beside him. I have NO compassion, sympathy. I don’t even have pity. It’s an amazingly remarkable development for me: I can’t even find it in me for such a thing. 56 years it’s taken and finally! Why? Because: I AM in the shelter, getting up each morning at 4.30 to go to a job that I truly dislike intensely, to work 10 hours cleaning bowel movements and urine for 6,80$/hour to come into a room where one of “his” disrespects MY right to dignity and peaceful co-existence while HE spends the night getting so stone-drunk he has to sit in the street! I mean, fukrealy. If I can maintain some decorum… Meanwhile HIS “people” tell ME that I have NO RIGHT to be in the shelter (Whites and Jews have no rights to shelter services) when I’M ACTUALLY PAYING FOR THE DAMNED PLACE by working and paying TAXES! Nope. No compassion there. – The 2 songs this morning: “Calling My Children Home” and “Sand And Water”. – One item: Last night Darsevid closed our door (the hall light) cutting cross ventilation. My unders are currently on a chair in front of the fan. OH! How “Homeless” can this get? – TO WORK NOW!
21:17 (Edit)
21.03 Dung-heap. Signed-in immed. upon arrival. I’m even showered even! Radio going… not blasting. Light on (thank me very much). BUT…
I CLEANED THE ’08 ’09 TYPOS! AN HOUR AT SIBL AND I’M ONE MORE STEP CLOSER TO THE END! WOOT! (as ’tis said) Insert photos. Link all together. COMPLETE! From 1954 through… ALL! The story-board will be COMPLETE! I just wish I could be out having drinks to celebrate. But there will be time for that… soon… quite soon at this point. Then? Nothing to tether me to NY, NYC, ANY-where. All I can think of is: “The Letter”, Macy Gray.
On that note, it’s time to try for some rest before BED-CHECK! and then something like sleep before 4.15 tomorrow morning. – This afternoon it got HOT again. Back up to high 20′s and my stomach went insane. I truly need to get SOMEwhere cold. If I could, I’d move to Nunavut. I’d like that. “But down here in reality” I know there’s nothing for me to do up there. Maybe the N.W.T. or Yukon? Something to ponder. – On the day, Mrs.E. came in this evening bitching because Mr. didn’t come next door AND I’d given ice cream (which he didn’t eat) “after 3:00″. Y’know what? HE and I get along. Fukdarest. – I NEED TO CUT MY TOE-NAILS! TRULY! – I’m calling this a day.

18/08/2011 at 11:59 (Edit)
11.50 Just lost an entire entry! SO tired, I dozed and hit “back”! SHIIIIIIT! – Quick note: Mr.E. said his lower abdomen is painful so, after a good bkfst he went to the recliner. At 11.23 he was dreaming. Called out “Oh yeah…” and waved to someone. Just noting. – Meanwhile, it was a “crampsless” morning! Woke at 4.35, was at the corner by 5.35! How? I do not know. But the M16 came and by 5.42 I was at Penn. For nothing. STILL had to WAIT for a 6.11 A… to Lefferts! No matter how I try, there’s no early start to a day in NYC. MTA just screws absolutely everything! But that was OK this morning because by 7.03 I was coming out of storage! (BlackNotes are back in storage.) – Q53 to HoBe. No groceries this morning. But I’m good.
12:27 (Edit)
12.21 Ponder: The science of Physics claims that energy can be created but never destroyed, only changed. People, humans, are basically bundles of energy… charges that are produced internally keep our heart functioning.
17:52 (Edit)
17.43 PenLib 12.21 Ponder: The science of Physics claims that energy can be created but never destroyed, only changed. People, humans, are basically bundles of energy… charges that are produced internally keep our heart functioning. Energy derived from the fuel we take in as food. But independent. – Ponder: The death experience where people claim to see bright light, going through a tunnel, seeing relatives and such. Some describe it as re-birth. – Suppose: That energy that we are is never destroyed, even in death. Perhaps, we are re-cycled energy. Over and over again. Perhaps, the death experience is actually the moment of some kind of re-birth, where-by our energy is passed on, somehow, and we are actually born… again, and again and again. The tunnel is actually the birth canal. That light is, as some have said, the light at the end of the canal. Those “relatives” others have claimed to see are actually the new family into which we are re-born. And suppose, this conitnues on and on and on. Those who claim to get to Heaven find themselves in a life of comforts and contentment. Those who claim to get to Hell either re-live their previous existence or are re-born into a life of poverty, destitution, war, horror. Or, suppose, those who reach Heaven are not re-born at all and become part of an energy that maintains the Natural order of existence. Those in Hell are relegated to some chaos in Creation. Just suppose… Just suppose.
21:32 (Edit)
21.13 Dung-heap. Mr.E. ate a light lunch! At 14.00 but he was REALLY good, even up to when I left at 17.00! (I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and he laughed.) – Mrs.E. was cooking for the grand-kids and sent chicken cutlette over! Last night’s slice of fritatta was wonderfully sinfully rich! Tonight’s chicken was SCRUMPTOUS! I had to think: I’m actually getting one “home-cooked” hot meal a day lately. This morning I even had hot oatmeal for breakfast! I suppose I should shut up about the EXTREMELY LOW salary and dwell on: Being inside in foul weather, sitting in a recliner, having fresh hot coffee, being able to fry an egg, make toast, hot cereal and Mrs. trying to fatten me up. If not for this assignment I actually don’t know WHAT I’d be eating since my stomach won’t take the crap I used to eat. It hardly takes real food lately. – And so, after, to PenLib for an hour on the PC and “Dream” images on some pages. I don’t have to sign for a PC now. I walk in, librarian sees me, puts my name on the list. (Home). – Leaving was painful again tonight. A beautiful storm was coming in off the ocean. Great waves! A charming walk or an exciting swim! Instead, I got a ride through the bowels of NYC. – Quick in through entry security/x.ray/&c. Walked the 6 flights of stairs. In the dung-dorm, 1&2 were in. I ignored, put on flip-flops, signed and went for a shower. The stall was CRAWLING! Roaches. Oh well. They’re clean. – 21.30 I’m nodding. Must nap… I PRAY… Earplug helps. G’night.

19/08/2011 at 05:52 (Edit)
5.45 M16 Woke at 2.21 for potty. Back to bed and right to sleep. 3 alarms and out of bed. Wahoo. Real, regular bm this morn. Delightful shower. But everything I touched made noise, tumbled, or something. The day began. Beautiful temperatures this morn. But ran for this bus at 5.43. And… I’m feeling rather “bloated”. – The coffee bottle has a rather acrid odour. And last night I noticed that my towel, when damp, smells like “turtle water”: like the bowl we kept those little “Woolworths” turtles in. Hmmm… – 5.51 7th Av. Here we go… the day commences…
07:14 (Edit)
7.06 61/Roosevelt Q53! M16 to 34th/8th. (6.13) NO BLOODY A TRAINS BETWEEN CHAMBERS/145th BOTH DIRECTIONS! Walk to 34th/6th for F to Roosevelt Av. Q32 BACK to 61st to JUST MISS A Q53! I feel like I’m about to have a stroke or coronary. I NEED THE BLOODYFUKKING MONEY! And today id s my stress-Friday: Work, then into Wall St., TD… Tomorrow: P.O. before work, work, (I’m so out of it I can’t remember routine!) – OH DEAR GOD GET ME OUT OF HERE… ANY WAY AT ALL! DEATH IS PEACE AND I DON’T CARE HOW IT COMES… EVEN IF I HAVE TO TAKE THE OPTION!
12:38 (Edit)
12.19 I was out of the room for MOMENTS trying to talk sense into Mrs.E. about Mr.’s dietary requirements (liquids to stop constipation) but she won’t listen. Giving up, resolving to do what my training dictates and common sense indicates, I come back to find Mr.E. in the middle of the floor, twirling! NO WALKER! I got hold of him JUST as he went, gently, to the floor! SUNUVABITCH! HOWever… I don’t know how, but I lifted 140 pounds of him up, and into the recliner! ME! I did it! Quietly. Calmly. He laughed. – I’ve got the wife who just won’t listen to me, rejects suggestions, information and such. The husband, my patient, has Alzheimer’s and CA Colon/Prostate and decides to take solo strolls. 6,80$/hr. and a supervisor who takes ABSOLUTELY NO interest in my work AT ALL! – I’m on my 3rd coffee since 8.00. And another 7 days before my 2 days off. – I get through by thinking… VT, NORTH, closer to the border, to the Province where my heart and soul are waiting for me. Soon. But certainly not soon enough. – Meanwhile, I do ALL I CAN for my guy. Comfort. Concern. Care. It’s what I do… thanklessly… it’s what I do.
19:41 (Edit)
19.35 MMLib IT CAN BE DONE! I got out of HoBe and on to an A at 17.16. Then to the J. Made it to the MCU, then on to the 6 train and to TD and here by 18.30! And here, I had a couple of minutes to get a couple more tunes for the iPod before getting on here (and passing time). – The day? Well, it went. Mr.E. fluctuated between total lethargy and manic personality. Mrs. confided that she was certain that he’d be “gone” today. But I did know better. Still, she and her lovely little daughter kept second-guessing me and rejecting suggestions. The daughter tells me “according to me research” and “according to my training” (WHAT F’ing “training”? She’s “Hotel”!). Well, today I decided that I shall let them have their “research” and their “training” and I will do what makes ME comfortable and not them. I have 5 years of Hospice, a year of Psych/Med-Surg, 6 mos. Cardio and 6 mos. Resp. But, it’s always the same… I’m just the “Hired Lackey” so if that’s what they want, that’s what they get. – OH GOD GET ME OUT OF THIS CITY! – OK. Well, now it’s raining.. or I hear it’s pouring. I have to get from here to the lovely Hotel de Marde with-out drowning. But… I have my umbrella! So by the time I get to the door, all should be well again. – Although last night my Home-Town got a WHAMMY of a storm! Trees branches all over the place – damn it! I missed a beautiful storm! (Bitterness!) – I’m out of here. Time to toddle. More when…
21:36 (Edit)
21.20 Hunee! I’m HOMEless… Back at the Dung-heap, the boys are all in, radio going and Darsevid’s locker is covered by his comforter. Luckily the temperature in here is 26. Had it not been for the rain, I coulda done a wash. On a regular night, wash dries in mere hours/over-night. Toss it on the locker before bed, wake to bone-dry. (It was one of the VERY FEW things I’d missed when I’d left here.) But on rainy nights, it could take 2 days and I don’t have the luxury of bringing wet wash to work on the week-end. Mrs. is “in” too often. Which reminds me: Only 5 hours tomorrow! O GAHD YES! FINALLY! The week-end hours! I really can’t bitch. Today she brought me 3 chicken cutlettes (they don’t eat meat on Friday) (never mind) and a slice of pizza. Now, if she’d learn to trust my medical judgment… – Anyway, the boys are tucked in. Darsevid went storming out the door (leaving the radio on of course… WFAN… baseball bullshit). But I probably should put out the light. Not that anybody ELSE in this cell has to get up or out of bed in the morning… Tomorrow morning I’ll leave, they’ll be asleep, I’ll come back, they’ll be asleep. So now, I’ll put out the light, put in my ear-plug and… Another night in… The Snake Pit. (WHAT A MOVIE!)

20/08/2011 at 05:25 (Edit)
5.19 28/2nd waiting on the 5.27 M15: All those months before coming to the shelter I wished to get back to my “normal” routine… waking at 4.30? Now I have it. Ah… but if only I could sit at table calmly, enjoying my morning coffee and cigarette instead of rushing to shit, shower and run. Never. Enjoy? Never. – Spoke with (5.24 on the bus) that Sec.Grd. this morning. I tend to think I’m the only one who speaks to her… nicely anyway.
11:32 (Edit)
10.56 HoBe I arrived at… 8bloody12! THREE DAMNED HOURS to take the L to the A to the shuttle and the Q53. The longest wait? The damned A at BwyJct! LOCAL! Then the only salvation was that the train skipped from Grant to Rock.Blvd. and to N.Conduit… At the P.O.? Pay-stub post-marked 11 August! Then to Waldbaums for their “no selection”. I got yoghurt) fruit, PopTarts, honey for .e; yoghurt, cranberry juice for Mr.E. – Didn’t get to clock-in until almost 10.00 because Mr. was at table when I arrived and Mrs. was in a mood. Screaming at me about paying for the yoghurt (but not the juice). Then getting Mr. into the shower. I’m exhausted. Next, daughter rings. Explains Mrs. is very concerned and afraid of losing Mr. Right. But the 2nd-guessing. I had to tell her I’ve 20 years of doing this! No avail. – THEN “Rob”, covering Melanie wants to “confirm” when I got here. “I need to speak with the patient.” I almost gave the phone to Mr. Would serve them right. But when I said I’m usually here by 7.30 or so… “I’ve got it covered.” Fukkem! – Louie came by. Mr. got a shave. And I’m ready for sleep. Nice beach day. Wish I could. But much to do today. No rest for the weary. – By the way: the brown towel at the shelter? I washed it yesterday. Stinks already. The hot water! No more wash in hot water! It’ll never come back to white.
17:35 (Edit)
17.32 Q53 to 61st. A Note: Mrs. tells me I need someone in my life to sit with at the end of the day, to have dinner with, to talk to. – COULD YOU BLOODY-WELL IMAGINE GOING THROUGH THAT AGAIN?
18:31 (Edit)
18.18 Q32 33rdSt/QB PopTarts! That’s all. PopTarts. 6 of them. Meals for the day. Any more I’ll start shitting like a toaster! – Anyway… Since “Rob” or “Bob” at PIC gave me crap for clocking-in late this morning, I decided to send in a time sheet. That required a trip to storage, following the visit to PenLib where I bought more music (OK! I’M WEAK! I’ve ALWAYS opted for music over… EVERYTHING! Shoot me… O please, SOMEbody DO! Please! It wouldn’t be murder. It’d be the kindest thing a human has ever done… EVER!) So, believe it or not, I found the time-sheets almost immediately! And off I went. Q53… WAITED! Got one to Woodside for Q32. WAITED! And here me is, just crossed the 59th St. Bridge! I could grab the M15 to Hell. But I’m going to relax, enjoy a trip down 5th to 34th. Fukkit! OK? OK then.
20:25 (Edit)
20.04 E4 THAT was rather pleasant… the busses ride. And it’s cooled nicely in The City. The connection from Q32 to M34 was immediate (too bad) but I got to sit. Very important for me… to sit. Odd, but when I got off the Queens bus, I wanted to chat with the driver… we’re “homies”… came from the “Outer Borough” into The City. I wanted him to know I’d left my “Home Borough”. But the reality is, he could have been from anywhere and simply driving a Queens bus. Still, I felt like I’d bussed into a different country. I’m slipping. REALLY slipping. – I got to see a bit of BVT on-line today. Almost reminds me of Rockaway; small buildings, low. Small-town. Like Rockaway. I like that… wish I was there already. Soon. Soon. – Coming into the cell? About 19.00. Darsevid and the bloody radio. But no 1 or 3. I’ve washed my work scrubs. 3 comes in telling his experiences with his “water pill”. Yes indeed. THE ONE THING that EVERY person NEEDS and one can NEVER find one when needed: a LOO! Too funny. – About 20.00, 1 comes in. Makes his bed. He has his own linens. Colour. (Quite frankly, I’m a bit surprised they haven’t been stolen in this dung-heap. I’m actually expecting Darsevid to damage mine or the bed somehow. Wouldn’t put it past him, just because.) – At 20.17 the radio’s going in here, the TV in the “lounge” is doing some salsa-thing. And… it’s miserably HOT in here! But then, it might be what-ever it is inside me… On that, I’ve my suspicions. But it hasn’t taken me… yet. So there. – Gee! 10 minutes til sign-in. Then it’ll be shower and me TRYING for SOME sleep (right). The after-noon/evening went right by. Oh. And no rain. – It smells nice in my niche. Fresheners in my locker and Gain on my drying clothes (they’d BETTER DRY!). – Stoopid Old Southern Black Man Alert! Loud! It’s interesting how they seem to believe they MUST yell! Ah. WTF? – And the bongo/conga serenade from the TV continues. – I’m quite tired.

21/08/2011 at 09:49 (Edit)
9.26 HoBe (Of course. Where else would I be? Fuk.) Quite the night, last night. All went… Radio on through-out. One ear-plug in. I don’t like it, cutting air out of the ear canal like that, but it does dull the blaring radio. I don’t know how the other 2 manage. But then, they don’t get out of bed before 7.30 during the week, probably not before 9.00 on week-ends and D(arse)vid doesn’t get out of bed unless there’s a bodily function or food or cigarette involved. Anyway, I was finally getting to drift when… BED-CHECK! A quick ‘lights on/lights off’ and then… “YOU’RE TOO LATE! NO! YOU’RE TOO LATE!” accompanied by grunts and groans. Somebody tried to slip in to sign in AT bed-check. But the grunts sounded pitiful, like somebody who’s other-wise mute. It was VERY “Asylum-ish”. Almost sickening. But, oddly, I felt no sympathy, sadness. Hell! *I*’d NEVER get away with pulling the shit some of these arses pull. No sympathy from me. Fuk. – I begin to re-settle, drift off and… BING! BING! BING! BING! BING! Fire alarm! “Fire drill.” I figured. They pull that shit in the middle of the night. They’d done it once before, 1.00 in the morning, Winter. Rationale tells me it makes sense: Everybody should be in at that hour. But logic dictates that it’s quite abusive. I waited for the order to evacuate (being raised by a Staff Sergeant comes in handy at times like these… and more). I marveled at how the ear-plug dulled the radio but the fire alarm came through clearly. I turned my head to the open ear. WOW! LOUD! But nobody in the room moved, save… Darsevid who laid there grumbling and cursing at the alarm. “HAH-hah!” I thought, how wonderful he gets annoyed now, the worthless, inconsiderate piece of waste. Then came the female voice in the hall: “Fuk! It had to happen to me on my shift! Shit!” Then, from down the hall: “NO! NO! NO! You know there’s no smoking in the room.” in a tone like a mother scolding her child. I grinned, listening to Darsevid’s butch-fest, happy that he was annoyed until… silence… (cont.)
14:25 (Edit)
SIGNED-IN for Khen at 14.21! Left HoBe AT 13.01. Q11 at 13.12. Waited for A. Immed. L and M15. HOT! SWEATING! Off to pee… on the 5th floor (D18).
1. 8539266 said, on 21/08/2011 at 15:22 (Edit)
15.17 M34 to MMLib. Khen has been dealt a double and when I sympathised telling her about my morning she replied: “She needs to get somebody else and pay them a lot more money! Do they think just anybody will do what you do for the pay you get?” COMPASSION! And she knows my income and hours worked. I pray for her strength to endure and Peace in her life while she can enjoy it.
16:12 (Edit)
15.47 MMLib 5th fl. Waiting for a 17.00 PC. I’m DRENCHED WITH SWEAT! This CAN’T be from heat/humidity. AND NO AIR CONDITIONING! NYC? Freaking Hell-hole! This phone? Piece of shit. OK. – Copied the time sheet at Staokes/Staples on Mad/38th(?). The bitch at the counter charged me 23cents to do it instead of showing me the self-serve (11cents). Fuk huh. OK? I want a copy because Mrs.E. wouldn’t sign for Mr.E. so HE signed. I fore-see troubles coming. But I’m quite prepared to do battle. – AND we no longer have drop-boxes for the post here, in this “wonderful and so convenient city” so I have to go to a bloody Post Office! The shit I’m shoved into for 6,80$/hr.! – It’s been quite the day. I arrived in HoBe by about 7.00. Strolled calmly to Waldbaums, listening to music. Somehow I knew the rest of this day was to go sour. Waldbaums’ rolls were ALL, hard and stale! No inexpensive cold-cuts. AND I was stupid enough to buy bread so Mr. could have with lunch. I thought I might have an egg sandwich too. Stupid me. – A calm stroll to the house. I sat on the stoop to read the paper when I heard Mr. sneeze. Awake! Up the stairs I went to find Mr. up at table, in JUST a diaper (I later learnt it was only 1), eating breakfast. Mrs. at the sink. I waited for him to finish breakfast. Mrs. left for a bit leaving ALL the dishes in the sink AND a bed with shitty sheets (for me to remove). And then it happened: He didn’t want to shower! We got into the bath-room and his “game” commenced. Would NOT move close to the tub. THEN, as he’s standing there, he pees on the floor AND starts to SHIT! NO DIAPER ON! I threw a couple of Chux on the floor, begin to clean the faeces when HE DECIDES TO SIT ON THE COMMODE… LID CLOSED! Bucket-time! A good head-to-toe WASH as he sat. He got CLEANED! Then took an attitude with me, wouldn’t allow me to clothe him. I walked away, stripped the bed and went back. He’d gotten himself up and was standing in the hall with the walker, t-shirt only half on. I finished dressing him… (cont…)
16:40 (Edit)
(cont.) Got him into the kuvung/licing/licing/living-room (fukking Huawei shit phone!) and into the recliner, went back to clean the loo. Daughter comes in. Will he be able to get out of the house today? They’ll be home until 2 (14.00). Obviously… NO. OK. Back to “normal”. I FINALLY got to eat something by about 10.00. Oh, and the bread? 2 slices with vanilla ice cream and honey. (I did manage 2 tinned coffees, 2 yoghurts, a small tin of apricots during the day.) – NEXT! At about 10.30 I offered Mr. some jello. He truly needs better liquid intake and getting him to drink and getting the family to comply is almost completely impossible. He tried, as he does, to use the spoon as a straw. I did not intervene and he did not eat the jello. – 11.30, too early for lunch according to Mrs. but she waltzes in, sees Mr. at table, notes the jello, “He have he lunch?” No. “Then why you give that stupid stuff? 11/11.30 he gets lunch.” Previously she insisted ‘not before noon’. I gave up! I GIVE UP! The butch(fuk this fukkung ohone!) bitch-fest ENDS TODAY! I walked away, went to make the bed. She cooked him lunch, served and cleared the table. Sink full of dishes! SHE got him to the living-room where I offered to change him (knowing it was needed). SHE waltzes out, goes to her sewing room. I changed Mr. Dyddie-full of SHIT AGAIN! – Mrs. “hid” until 12.58 when I went for the phone to clock out. She said something to me. I ignored her and AT 13.00 I clocked-out. – The decision to use the Q11 was good. The connections were very good. Getting into the Dung-heap was delightful. Seeing Khen was up-lifting. Having gotten this journalled is a relief. Having done on the ohibe/phone is bloody pissed. But, it’s done and I’ve stopped schwitzing so damned much. – Tomorrow, if the need presents, I’ll tell Mrs. that I can understand why she can’t keep help on and remind her of MY skills and “training” and remind her that she’s free to seek someone else. I NEED THIA INCOME! NEED! NEED! NEED! BUT… She’ll bitch once and I’ll be finished! (c.
16:48 (Edit)
(cont.) How bloodyfukking typical! I bust MY arse, GIVE them 45mins/an hour EXTRA most days, go the extra and… NOT EVEN A NOTE TO PIC! ALL of them! Fukkem each and every one. – Meanwhile, voice mail. Ev Greenberg. ‘Happy birthday. Hope the new life-style is rewarding. We think of you often.’ Right. You don’t have mobility any longer, cgeao/cheap bastards. (THEY couldn’t send a nice lettre to PIC and they’ve got PC AND PRINTER!) Annoys me. – I’ve pulled out of Life. Goodbye. No regrets. – 16.47 Still waiting for the PC and starting to doze off! Time to move about.

22/08/2011 at 06:11 (Edit)
6.05 Twenty-three years ago today, at approximately 10.30, my Very Best Friend In Life took her last breath of Creation’s Earthly air. It was a Monday then too. Twenty-three years ago, and this morning it’s as fresh in my heart, soul and mind. Mama, how I miss you so very, very much. Unlike me, you loved Life so. If only we could exchange places.

19:10 (Edit)
19.06 Q22 B124 In no hurry. The evening is UNBELIEVABLY MAGNIFICENT! And I’m carrying TWO jars of Bustelo Instant! and 2 packs of cigs. Happy man. Came from PenLib. “Home”… but can’t stay. And on a perfect evening. Creation. And no Mum.

23/08/2011 at 06:18 (Edit)
6.08 34th/1st 18deg. Clear. Breezy. – Something’s “off” in my brain. (6.10 M16) 4th alarm to wake. Took toilet paper, but left some in the dorm. BM “disappeared” pre-flush. OK, I shaved at long last. Showered well. Dressed. Got everything needed. Grabbed the lift. Straight down and out… At the corner of 30th/1st realised I’d forgotten the kippa! Had to put everything back into the back-pack and go BACK into the bldg.! Back up-stairs in the lift. Open lock by lighter. Kippa on. Back to the lift. Out-side, meal tkt. in pocket. Panic. But that was OK. Just “off” today. – 6.18 6thAv.
09:29 (Edit)
9.20 HoBe Up rather late last night. 1&3 very talkative until Darsevid came in. Seems he doesn’t like the camaraderie. He put the radio on rather loud. We finally HAD to stop talking over the radio. But it was OK, really. I didn’t get to shower until 20.15. And… to a night’s sleep. – The HoBe story du jour: Got to the station by 7.04! Strolled… SLOWLY, to the market. Nothing of interest. I got 2 tins of whipped cream (on sale 2/5&) and my yoghurt. Strolled to the house. Mrs. at the gate. WE cane in. I clocked-in because SHE IMMEDIATELY got Mr. up (7.40). Bed stripped, she took the linens, Departed. By 9.00: Mr. bed-bathed, dressed, breakfast. – Now? I’m fatigued.
14:19 (Edit)
14.00 HoBe EARTHQUAKE 6.0! Origin. 87mi so. of D.C. I was sitting in the recliner, Crmn snoozing in his recliner. (13.52 official time) The house swayed very gently. But traffic continued out-side. All was as if nothing happened. I thought it was ME! Rang Mrs.E. “Did your house just rock?” She rang off on me! Tried 911 on house and cell. NO CONNECTION. FINALLY, the neighbours across the street confirmed. (14.14 It’s on CBS News) Apparently basement/1st flr. didn’t even notice.
21:40 (Edit)
21.18 6W-107 The boys are tucked in. I’m having my evening PopTarts, awaiting “BED-CHECK!”. We didn’t have one last night. That’s either inconsistent-continuity or consistent-incontinuity. Either way it is what this place is. – Earthquake? It “rolled” so nicely that people on the streets, ground floor didn’t even feel it. BUT… New Yorkers being NOT New Yorkers anymore, MOST left their offices for the day. The news kept referring to “post 9/11″! I mean shitreally! It’s 10 years ago! But the REAL N.Y.ers are gone and what’s here now is… well… DUMB! However, I left Mr.E. at just past 17.00. At 17.16 I was on the Q11. By 18.20 I was in SIBL. And The City had a tranquility about it… a strange tranquility. – SIBL? BONEY M! on the iPod and some “stuff” on the PC. Backed-up “KalbahJournal” to Flash. I will never forget how she told me to go to “the shelter”, then asked for a kiss when I left! (Happy now, are you?) Anyway, that’s doc’ed. Not here. – Came in behind a 21y/o who’d come up from Florida on holiday, claims he got screwed by “friends” (can you imagine? I can.) and this place is giving him a ticket back to Florida! Two guys in the hall confirmed DHS will do that. But then you can’t show back here for a year. Oh well. (Move me to VT?) – Chatted with 3 until sign-in (on 5). Showered. Day is done. – Told Lou (Mr.E. son-in-law) what Khen said (let them find private duty and PAY for the service). He told me don’t take Mrs. personally. OK. Right. – 21.39 Must toddle. More tomorrow.

24/08/2011 at 06:25 (Edit)
6.22 Woke at 5.22. Actually walked directly onto the 6.15 M34. – Rumour has a wash-out week-end so I took care of 413 this morning. – Feeling “odd” this morning. But… Here we go… again. Shit. I want out of NY.
10:25 (Edit)
9.55 HoBe Clocked-in 7.40. BUT… Arr’d to open, un-locked door. Mr. seated at table, naked. He’d eaten his pudding, taken his meds, and in good spirits. BUUUUTTT… THE SHEETS WERE F.O.S.! MAJOR! In the loo was a bucket containing shorts, soaking. F.O.S. And me, on the clock but NOT on the pay-roll with WORK to get done. Well… under-wear and t-shirt on Mr. On to French toast cooked, juice, fruit, tea. He ate, I washed the shorts, prepped the shower. Breakfast done, thorough shower. He sat on the commode and I stripped the bed, a bucket of ammonia/bleach to “clear the air”. Wash dishes. Wash kitchen floor. Get Mr. to the living-room. 8.58am and a day’s-worth of work… done. JUST IN TIME! MRS. COMES IN! She goes into a tirade on how to feed, what to feed, when to feed. “He’s going all the time. Too much.” She got IT, the riot act. “YOU. do what YOU do and I’LL do what I do. If that’s not good enough, call the agency now and let me get out of here.” The tone changed. “I don’t want you to have to deal with that. I don’t take advantage of the people.” HELL! He HAS to move his bowels and because of her “what, when and how much” he got impacted! Well folk, she FINALLY agreed with me and agreed to let me handle the day! FINALLY! (Now I’ll ABSOLUTELY expect a nasty call from the office, taking me off the case. Oh well. As Mrs. says “Thank you very much. God bless you.” – I’ve done what I must, should and can.) – 10.24 Getting WEARY.
21:48 (Edit)
21.27 6W107 Oh I got a call alright. About the late clock-in on SATURDAY! “Rob/Bob” DIDN’T “take care of it” AND “Ms.Melanie” CLAIMS she didn’t get the time sheet. So I KNOW I’m pulling 45/55hrs now. ANYTHING SHORT, ANOTHER COMPLAINT to the Labour Bd. NO PROB. – The day? Quite well. Mrs.E. brought me a WONDERFUL chicken/mozzarella focaccia sandwich! My gad it was stupunderfab! DEElish! I’m eating SO much (and burning off so little). I won’t be “bronzed” when I get to VT but I’ll have weight! I prefer the weight anyway. – Took the Q11 again tonight. SIBL by about 18.30. Bought a couple 10,000 Maniacs and got DunesSojourner on Flash. Gaston has to be re-posted. The data is there but it comes up with the index! I don’t know why. There’s some good writing on there. I want to save it somehow… and the Flash is small enough to carry with me. (NOT give to someone else to hold. Fuk.) – Tonight I walked back to the Dung-heap. A wonderful breeze. The huricane is probably making the breeze and sucking the humidity out. Ah… the wk-end. STORM by 14.00 Sunday. Figures. My wk-end off. – ANYway… there were thoughts I wanted to jot, things that came to mind during the day. I’ve forgotten them. I should jot notes. Writing still beats all. – 21.42 and we’re all “in”. Earlier G3/E3 says “I’m gonna miss you when I leave here.” (And earlier today the Physical Therapist/Jigs, says “You’re so good with your patients.”) WTF? I’m just sych “the doll”. (Oh bloody fukme for krise sake! REALLY!) – Darsevid’s got the radio low. G3 put the lights out. I’m aspirined and showered and PopTarted. I want a quick smoke before turning in. Oh, the ceilings are pink. REPAIRS! O MY!

25/08/2011 at 06:03 (Edit)
6.01 M34 Shaved the callous off the right great toe this morning! RELIEF! And now, if the MTA doesn’t fuk me over, it’s P.O. day. But… – MadAv. 6.03.
09:59 (Edit)
9.487 HoBe No rest for the weary today. I got in at 8.03, tried to ease into the morning but Mrs. just couldn’t wait… RIGHT OVER! Of course this meant Mr. HAD to get out of bed IMMEDIATELY! In for breakfast during which she starts shoveling food into his mouth saying “I don’t have all day.” WTF? SHE doesn’t have all day? I do! Go away! Let the poor guy eat in peace. She strips the bed, washes the dishes and leaves. WE went to the shower. And now, at long last, my bit of damp wash is on the chair to dry. And I’m schwitzing already. Hmpf. And the humidity is up, the skies are grey and I ponder getting drenched (no umbrella) though “Irene” is still far enough away. – I didn’t even have time to get to the market this morning but I did get to the P.O. It’s really great out on The Rock. But I’m denied the pleasure of being there. Fukkin… never mind.
10:04 (Edit)
I looked at my pay advice. On a 55-hour week:
.BOTH SATURDAY AND SUNDAY
.PLUS 5 HOURS OF OVER-TIME PAY
.TAKEN AWAY IN TAXES!!!!!
How I HATE, DESPISE, DETEST, LOATHE and ABHOR this!!!!!
There’s NO SENSE in trying. No incentive. It’s ALL just plain SHIT!
It actually DOES come to being paid for the base 40 hours.
Death looks better all the time.

26/08/2011 at 08:45 (Edit)
FUK! AN ENTIRE ENTRY FUKKING GONE! ONE BUMP ON THE BUS AND GONE! TODAY IS BULL-SHIT!
10:51 (Edit)
10.36 THE Main Library, on the veranda, at a table. How cute! Outwardly, I am the epitome of tranquility. INside there are blood-curdling screams of Chaos, agony, indecision. Outwardly, I am a passerby, sitting quietly beneath the old locust trees, enjoying the shade and the breeze. INside, I am solitary, abandoned, abused, tortured and tormented. It is one of those moments in all Time when ALL of Creation comes round and kicks me directly in the face. I am… alone. Some 200 telephone numbers on my “Contacts” and yet… there’s no-one. 8 million people in NYC and I am… alone, single, solitary. The kindest words I receive are from strangers whom I’ve never met: Belinda, P.J. and “ShutUpImTweetin”. From them come words of kindness, encouragement, concern. Not out of obligation for ANY reason. Simply… because. Simply… because. They DO provide solace and comfort. They truly, truly do. And today, at this moment, that means so much more than they, or anyone could possibly imagine. – Last night…
11:13 (Edit)
Yesterday, Thursday, 25 August 2011, the librarian at PenLib arranged to give me 2 hours on a PC. I corrected the Gaston Journal, prose, 40 pieces. Most of my on-lines journals are now corrected and backed-up. I travel with my life history on a Flash drive now. It’s recorded. Needs detail, but it’s “there”, it’s “here”. It’s a little peace to me. It’s “available” now… to the World. – Leaving Rockaway was quite sad, painful really. And over the open Atlantic, at about 19.30, a RAINBOW! What a sight! – I got to the platform just as the shuttle arrived. I was in no hurry, but the World apparently was. Away I was pulled. – At about 21.00 I was in the shelter, at the “security check”… to hear: Tomorrow (today) the building will be evacuated (due to hurricane Irene). If you have friends or family, go to them. If you have some-where to go, go there. You’ll be given a pass until Tuesday when the building re-opens. Go to your case-worker. If you have no-where to go, go to your case-worker for re-assignment to another shelter. This building will be closed by 4:00 (16.00) tomorrow. – Ortiz passed me through, gave the “Peace” sign, asked if I’ve someplace to go. “Don’t worry. They’ll find a place for you.” What could I do/say? He’s a kind soul. He “rescued” me when I first came here and over the years, remembered me. Courtesy. Respect. – I climbed the stairs. On 5, we signed for our bed. Guys queued in the hall, looking for direction, information. All that was forth-coming was poor attitude and cryptic messages. “See your case-worker for re-assignment.” – Now MY case-worker is on during the day and OFF on Friday-Saturday. I’m expected at work by 8.00, work til 17.00, can’t be back before 18.30. I asked for info/direction. I was told: Go to work, see the “Emergency” case-worker when I return. Then the woman I’d addressed yelled into the crowd: “Sign for your bed and go there! Nothing will be done until TOMORROW! TOMORROW! TOMORROW! We don’t even know where you’ll be deployed to. Come back TOMORROW!”
11:24 (Edit)
I went to my bed, packed everything possible into my one piece of luggage. Most fits! But there’s a tear in the luggage. Not large. But enough to compromise. It’s packed. – E1 tells: his case-worker says that guys with no-where to go will remain. Others say we’ll be transferred. (Last night I was told to go to work and deal when I return. This morning I heard the bldg. will be shut at 14.00.) – I decided to call the office, tell them I won’t be available for work (IT KILLS ME! LESS MONEY AGAIN!). The fellow took my particulars. – Exhausted, defeated, I showered. Lights out. To bed. There is NOTHING I can do. The burocracy will run as it will, no matter what. – David Hall (Radioboy the Crack-head, D(arse)vid played his radio long into the night.
11:33 (Edit)
11.25 Still at my table. – This morning, sunny skies, very warm, breezy. I woke at 6.30. Shower. Jeans. Out. No further word on the day. – The bus to MCU. The train to TD. (The tellers tell stories of panic: A woman bought 150$ in batteries. Another bought an entire stick of bottled water.) The radio encouraged people to go to the banque and get cash! I went to Jack’s 99cent. I NEED socks (got ‘em). Then the bus to here. From here, SIBL. From there… the murderous mayhem of the shelter. Oh, I confirmed: Melanie got my message. No hard time given. – I need to move along. To… … …? To… … …. Creation will do what it must. – Still, it’s interesting: Moe/Ev, Schmulik, Rabbi Lewis, no-one to turn to. Not one.
13:17 (Edit)
13.13 SIBL: ONE PAGE SHORT! (or maybe 2) of the “Yehudabengagalut” on back-up! – ANYway… I’m heading back to the Dung-heap now. From whence I journal and when tonight… nothing in Creation can be certain. (I see me wandering a LOT in the coming hurricane.)
18:29 (Edit)
18.28 5th fl. The shelter is officially closed but there are MANY of us still here. I’m to go to Pamoja House, Bed-Stuy. Hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Running down.

PARK AVENUE SHELTER – HELL!
Friday 26 August (Recounting on Wednesday 31 August, 19.07 SIBL) At 18.28 I was still on the 5th floor waiting to hear definite word about my “deployment”. It was miserably hot and humid in the building and there were many who, as usual, just didn’t bother to bathe for the trip. Alas. No directions were given, just rumours. I sat in the West hall, on the floor, waiting. Suddenly, somebody came along and yelled “Gentlemen! The line is over here!” and pointed down the hall toward where I was sitting on the floor. I was suddenly on a “line”. To where? Anybody’s guess, but I just sat where I was and decided to follow it when it moved. As it moved, we went round the corner to the lifts where the one line became 2 because somebody decided to lean on the opposite wall, thus creating the illusion that there was a “shorter line” on that side. Come to find out, there should have been a queue over there… as I was to learn, for people “with mental health” (the word “issues” wasn’t necessary I suppose). (I have “mental health”… of some sort. But I didn’t bother. I stayed where I was.) Nobody knew where we or they were going but that didn’t matter at this point. It was already going for well past 17.00, the hour by which the doors to 30th Street were to be locked. – I went into the office and toward the desk where Mr. Alexander was seated. “You still here?! I thought you’d be LONG gone by now!” He smiled and did that little “knuckle-knock” that’s replaced a hand-shake. He asked if I had any-where to go. I told him I didn’t. He asked if I’d like to go to “Pamoja” and since I had no idea what my alternatives were I simply said “Yes.” “Then you have to go across to Singleton. She’s got he list for Pamoja.” So across the hall I go, with 2 other fellows following me. – In the office, the “security guard” asks why we’re there. I tell her “Mr. Alexander sent us here to see Ms. Singleton.” WE WERE IN! We 3 began ANOTHER queue! – At Singlton’s desk, she greeted me with a broad smile and warm welcome. Put my name on the list and said: “Go pack then get something to eat. They’ll call you to go downstairs to the bus when it gets here.” “I’m already packed (I’d left the luggage up in the locker) and what should I do if I don’t want to eat?” “Go get you things and come back down here. They’ll call for you.” OK. I went back up to the dorm to get the luggage. E3 was there, packing. He’d just come in a short while before I arrived. They’d already told him he was going to 125th Street. (VERY few knew exactly what or where the destinations meant but it’s what we were told so we went along). We chatted a bit as he packed and then, we left. I had the sinking feeling things wouldn’t be the same when we returned, especially since there were so many stories about WHY we were being evacuated: (a) There’s a Callahan coming up and the cleaning staff feels they can’t do everything needed whilst we’re here and (b) the earthquake made some cracks larger and we have to get out whilst the building is inspected. But that’s about all we heard… and nothing was said to contradict or correct. We just followed along… blindly, as usual. Still, there was an un-easiness inside me as I walked out the door and down the stairs to the 5th floor again… to wait… to be called. – I don’t’ know what time it was when the call came but it was still evening light. Signleton came in: “Those going to Pamoja leave NOW! Go to the 1st floor. The bus is waiting. You’ll be given directions when you get to the 1st floor. Go NOW!” And so? We went… NOW! – On the sidewalk there was a crowd. At the curb, a large school bus. However, there were considerably MORE of us than seats on the bus. This was going to be interesting. Suddenly, some woman comes into the crowd yelling “Everybody for The Bronx come over hear and listen for your name to be called!” I went over to her and asked “Where is the bus to Pamoja?” “You have mental health issues?!” she snapped at me. “No.” Well then you’re not going to Pamoja.” “I was told I was and am on the list.” “They changed it. You’re going to The Bronx. Wait here for your name to be called. That’s the bus.” Oh great! I don’t want to go to The Bronx. I have yet to hear anything good about any of the shelters up there. But, the fact remained, it was there or… I pondered the alternatives: bridges, parks, The Bronx, Rockaway, outside, the bunkers of Tilden? Couldn’t go to them… not in a hurricane. Rockaway was being evacuated… mandatory evacuation. I waited. I watched. – A laugh? The guy who used to be on the 5th floor, who left and would come back to do his laundry for free was there! We got talking and reminiscing. He claims he’s just in for a few days whilst he looks for another place to live. Claims he was doing very well but the girl-friend got to him and left him with nothing. Me? I listened. Fine. What-ever. It was good to talk with somebody at this juncture. We waited. He suddenly realised he had to go back into the building, took his bag and said he’d see me later. Alone… again… waiting. (Thursday 1 Septembre 18.45 PenLib) Then it came… the calls to the bus. I waited. I listened. I didn’t hear my name. The school bus filled. It waited. The case workers who were doing all the calling were confused (go figure). SO MANY PAGES! SO MANY LISTS! Nobody seemed to know what was going on and it was getting later and later. At this point I just accepted the fact that it was going to be an EXTREMELY late night. Most of the time it is. For some reason, the NYC shelter system can’t get anything accomplished before, well, about 1.00 in the morning. This, it seemed, would be another one of those nights. I waited. The school bus pulled away and the case-workers searched for MORE lists! – It was getting dark when the 2 white vans pulled up to the curb. It was much darker when somebody finally instructed: “Fill the vans and let them go!” My name got called and I boarded, having absolutely no idea where I was headed, other than up to The Bronx. It was DARK already. I don’t know the hours because I wouldn’t dare to take my phone out to check the time. But… – The trip? It was, indeed a “Trip”. Round blocks in Manhattan to get to the FDR to the Willis Ave. Bridge and the Bruck. At some point I looked out the window, into the darkness and saw “St. Ann”, then “St. Mary”. I knew we were in the South Bronx and headed not too far to the north. Round corners. In and out of streets. Then, at long last… 165th Street! OK! We were above 161st. Not too bad. And then it hit… MELROSE! PARK AVE! NOT even “good” neighbourhood. But then, what did I expect? We were “Homeless” men and shelters aren’t Hiltons. – We pulled up to a gate that had been covered in that artificial grass stripping. The gate opened and we went into a parking lot. Off to the side was a loading dock. But the building looked immaculate! Brand new! Quite nice! I wondered. We were told, by the driver “Gentlemen, you’re home.” In other words “Get the fuk out of my vehicle.” I was exhausted! Hungry. Dehydrated. And the luggage was heavy when I took it from the back of the van. – Up the ramp and to the end of yet another queue! But as I say, this wasn’t too bad. The place WAS immaculate and impressive. A woman came out, offered cups of water. Some idiot from 30th St. asked about food. The woman said “We have food coming in from DHS. We weren’t supposed to be open until September but DHS called and insisted that we open NOW for the emergency. We have no food on the premises so we’re waiting for a delivery.” Somebody joked “Fried chicken?” Somebody else joked “Rice and beans?” The woman, kindly enough said, “We know you’re tired and it’s late. So we’re going to take very good care of you.” and she continued to bring cups of water to us. I had one, sipped slowly. It was refreshing and just what I needed. I hadn’t eaten anything since the pecan swirls this morning and I could feel my blood sugar dropping… in my arms, hands, legs, head, eyes. – We waited to entre. – At some point as we waited, the gate to the parking lot opened… IT WAS OUR SECURITY GUARDS FROM 30TH STREET! WHAT A SPECTACLE! WAVING AND GREETINGS FROM THEM AND US! IT WAS THE MOST COMFORTING EVENT OF THE EVENING. THEY WER FAMILIAR TO US AND WE TO THEM. Even the boundaries between them and us were broken. There was a camaraderie suddenly. I have to admit, I was relieved and comforted to see them as well. And the arm-waving and smiles helped. – And then, at LONG last, I was IN! The place sparkled! Clean floors! Fresh paint! New. New. NEW! Everything was un-used! Just impressive! And there was AIR CONDITIONING! AMAZING! We were all told to have a seat. Food was served. And yes… fried chicken, potatoes, rice and beans! Hefty portions of each! Plats were distributed. I, however, was stuck at the “Security” as they pulled my luggage apart and then it began: NO CHARGERS! (cell phone, iPod). NO MEDICATIONS! (vitamin C, aspirin). NO MIRRORS! (I had my small locker mirrors, 2). NO FOOD! (my instant coffee). Things just kept going on me, all put into envelopes and bags, carefully marked with my name and the date. I was assured that I could have everything back when I left, but for now, it all had to remain with “Security”. I doubted it but there was nothing I could do about any of it. – I was “invited” to have a seat in the waiting area. I didn’t mind at all since I was about to pass out (or on) by this point. Hunger and dehydration were taking their toll. I sat. Plates of food were distributed and suddenly… the distribution stopped. The food was gone… I hadn’t eaten. At this point, I didn’t really care and didn’t really want to. I wanted more water to drink and to shower and get some sleep! Some restful sleep! Little did I know that this was the beginning of the “normal” for the next few days. – We were called, 1-by-1, into the “office” area, given a combination lock and assigned a bed. I got 210-8, meaning, room 210, bed 8. I didn’t care. We were all “escorted” up to our room. At the time I though it a nice gesture. I would soon learn it was kind at all, rather another way in which we were to be controlled. But for now, I went. – The room was, well, NEVER TOUCHED! The linens were brand new, though you could see perfectly through them, the thread-count was probably 10 per inch. The fleece blanket was still in the original bag! The locker? Unblemished! The floors shone like glass (not very safe, but then, no food was allowed and that included beverage). The mattress was an actual mattress and the bed had wood where ours have old springs. It was SO comfortable! Even with the fact that there were 8 of us in the room. The spacing was, well, it was OK. A little tight between beds, and the lockers faced forward between them. But it was truly welcome! – I made the bed and prepared to shower. One of the “Security” people came to the door. “Lights Out” at 10:00pm usually. THEY control the lights. We have no switch. When the lights are out, they’re out. I mentioned a shower. He gave me a grimace. It wasn’t permitted. Showering had to be completed before lights-out. I asked: “You’re not telling me that after all this, I’ll have to get into this bed with-out showering?” He said he’d look into it. I thought “I’m taking a shower while you look into it.” In only moments he returned to say that a “quick shower” would be OK. I bolted. – The bathrooms? Ah… again, all brand new, never used. BUT… NO MIRRORS! My beard trimmer had been taken as well as a razor. But in here, they would have done no good. NO MIRRORS ANYWHERE! So… I began my trepidations. Nothing too serious (I was exhausted). But into the shower I went. BRONX WATER! JUST MAGNIFICENT! EVEN IN SPITE OF THE RATHER DIRTY SHOWERS, THE WATER FELT SO GREAT! I wanted to linger but didn’t dare. – Shower done, I returned to the room, returned to the bed and got under the blankets, awaiting “Lights-Out”. When they came, I too went “Lights-Out”… at LONG LAST. It may heave been close to 2.30-3.00 in the morning when all settled. But we were, officially, EVACUATED! I curled under the fresh, NEW bed linens and drifted off to… sleep.

Saturday 27 August 2011 As per my usual routine, I’d set the alarm for 4.30 this morning and woke to it, some-what rested. Maybe it was because of the stress of the previous events. Maybe it was because… well, just because. This was quite a different morning: There was no coffee made as I had on 30th Street (in the water bottle that I keep in the locker – I don’t wake well with-out morning coffee), and there was no way in Hell (or this shelter) that I was going to chance a morning smoke in the loo. So I had to go with-out this morning until I escaped and escape I did! Up! Out of bed! Into the loo. No morning bm. No time. No urge. No what-ever. I headed right for the shower. In. Suds. Rinse. Out. Dress quickly. I had plans. I was back on the “Home Turf” (The Bronx) and there were places I hadn’t see in many years and I was looking forward to getting to see them NOW! The REALLY BAD NEWS? ALL, and I mean “ALL” public transit was to shut down at noon today in preparation for Hurricane Irene so I had precious little time. Although, I did plan on getting to the Bainbridge Garden to see the old stone wall I’d built (now, some 5 years ago) I thought: If I’m there late, or, for that matter, if I’m pretty much any-where in this boro and transit shuts down, I can certainly walk back. After all, in all the time spent with Margot, I walked the entire boro, many times. Today would be nothing! So, I bolted for the front door. BUT, BEFORE leaving the premises I stopped at “Security”. “Would it be possible to get my chargers for the day since I’m leaving the building?” “Sure!” and the little brown envelope was given to me. I had my chargers (and they’d never get them again!). NOW I was OUT! – First things first: Coffee! There’s a Hess station down the block and there-in is a little store. COFFEE! LARGE! 1,95$ WELL WORTH THE INVESTMENT! I was ready! AND… I KNEW EXACTLY WHERE I WAS AND HOW TO GET TO WHERE I WANTED TO BE! A quick stroll across 161st Street and up to The Grand Concourse! WOW! It was SO delightful to be back in a place that I knew so well, even if it no longer feels like “Home”. The changes in the population and the destruction meted out by them has taken away any and all connections to the place. It’s a shame, but a fact. Still, I waited for the Bx1 at the corner, across from the grand, old court house. The memories of that place, the tenant/landlord courts, the access to the legal libraries in there. Tough but wonderful days. – The bus arrived. I boarded and up The Concourse we went. Up past 170th where, in 1971 I bought my first Reggae record (Penny For Your Song, Jr. Soul), up past Fordham Rd. where once upon a time, the world came to shop, up past Bedford Park Blvd. and the little house where Viv and Rolande and I had such fun, where Clark would come to visit, where my Mum had come to visit, where Liz and Pattie came to visit (and then proceeded to use all my towels and then insult me as they left… the early 80’s). The house is still there, looking cute, but rather destroyed. I got off the bus at 201st and strolled over to the garden. – LO! And BEHOLD too! The wall is in PERFECT condition! I did one hell of a great job! I took a couple of photos with the cell phone. Not great photos, but the place was locked so I couldn’t get in close enough. (I was relieved at finding the gate locked. I didn’t want to meet anybody today anyway.) – Task completed, I strolled down Bainbridge to Bedford Park Blvd. Mt. St. Ursula… where story has it, the family “bought” a stained glass window when cousin Anita decided to perform some sort of acrobatics on the stairs and went flying through one (back in the 30’s) and Edmund had to pay for the replacement. – A left onto Bedford Park and down the hill to Webster. It was still entirely too early for anything to be open (and in light of the pending hurricane, there was doubt that anything would be open soon any way), I caught the Bx41 south to Fordham Rd. I intended to check into the Kingsbridge Rd. (main) library for a bit but, there was the sign: CLOSED (hurricane again). So I walked across The Concourse and over to Creston. The 1970’s came rushing back as I walked south to the old building. It’s been cleaned since. The brick is beige again, on the building and the back of The Paradise Theatre! Not that dingy black, as it was. The court-yard is now gated. The fountain is gone, replaced by some shitty brick cylinder with an arborvitae in it. But the old place still holds some charm, I have to admit. In front of the house, on the sidewalk, a man of perhaps his early 50’s was standing. I struck a conversation. He was the super next door. From Albania (go figure… the boro is now Albania) and had been there some 7 years. Says he, when he first arrived, he was one of “VERY FEW non-Blacks” in the area. But recently, the area is changing… to Albanian of course. I asked how much the rents are these days. My old place (275$/month for a 1 bed-room) is now 1195$! Go figure, the neighbourhood is crap and the rents are higher! Hmmm… Well, this fellow and I talked about The Bronx and other things for about an hour and then he had to go. It was comforting to talk with someone, especially someone who “lived and resided” in… The Bronx! – I walked back up to 188th and across The Concourse. I passed Union Hospital. In 1933 my Mum was born there. Tiebout Ave. In the 30’s, my Grand-parents had just moved into The Bronx and were living there. (Kingsbridge Rd. was Opa’s restaurant!) This boro seethes with so much of MY history! Strangely, I don’t miss it any longer. It’s changed so much and not really for the better thanks to politicians and the caliber of person now residing here. I guess it’s best this way… there’s no pain involved with being here anymore. (Or is it that I’ve worn down and out over the years. Too much pain already and no room for any more?) In any event, I strolled down the hill to Webster to catch the bus before it got to be too late. – I still hadn’t eaten anything today and the morning was done. I grabbed the bus down to 168th and decided to stop in at the super-market to see what could be gotten to put into my stomach. – Associated! YAY! In I wandered. It stunk in there, just like the markets in these areas of NYC. But it was clean enough. What to get to eat that I wouldn’t have to bring back with me? PopTarts! OK! But they didn’t have the tinned coffee so I decided on Coke instead. I needed caffeine and the sugar wouldn’t hurt either. And the PopTarts were quick, easy, compact. 8 to the box. I got them and headed out the door to EAT! and walk some more. – By now the wind was picking up quite impressively and the sky was darkening so I didn’t dare venture TOO far. Still, I headed up toward The Concourse. In my mind I kept thinking of Onkle Eddie’s lot on 164th and Valentine BUT it was 184th! I realised my error when I got to The Concourse but, I was eating en route and didn’t mind my mistake. (Tuesday 6 Sept. 2011 SIBL) I took my time, eating my PopTarts. Eventually, I had to get back to the shelter. The wind was picking up and the drizzle had started. – Re-entry was the usual: Standing and waiting on the street, at the gate, hoping that someone would notice that I was standing there, in the drizzle. Moments passed and a ParkAv. Security Guard came to open the gate. – Entry into the shelter: Go to the security office to retrieve the meal ticket left there. We have to leave some kind of ID with security when we leave and retrieve it upon return. They claim it’s because they have to keep a record of everyone who is in the building and who is not… in case of emergency. What-ever. I held my breath a bit, thinking that the chargers that I’d retrieved would show on the x-ray. Somehow, miraculously, they didn’t and I was in possession of my “possessions” once again… well, some of them anyway. These were important to me, in case I found a way to charge the phone. (Had I been able to do so, I wouldn’t be recounting this, more than a week later!) – I’m not certain what the time was when I got back but it was probably round about 13.00. At noon, all public transport shut down. There was no-where to go and even if there had been, there was no way to get very far. In spite of the fact that we’d been brought in quite late last night and this was a week-end, we were “FORBIDDEN” to stay in the dorms! And we wouldn’t be allowed to go there until at least 17.00! I over-heard the Directress yelling at a security guard “THOSE ROOMS HAVE TO BE CLEAN!”. The implication was most clear: They rooms would be dirtied just by our presence in them! Well, the insults began rolling at this point. We were instructed to sit in the “Recreation Room” either on the 1st floor or in the basement level (which is where the cafeteria is) until called to go eat. The only thing in said “Recreation Room” was a flat-screen TV, certainly NOT on any news channel but TNT. As was said on Sunday: “TNT. ALL day. EVERY day.” We were about to experience a hurricane of considerable strength and were NOT allowed to follow it on the television. Oddly (or not), we were forbidden any radio in the building, never mind anything else electronic (hence, the confiscation of chargers). It was truly becoming “LOCK-DOWN”! No joke. For the longest while, I sat, on a table, in the 1st floor “Recreation Room”. It was nightmarish! The TV was at high volume, but that was because of the yelling of the “inmates”. The Latinos were all out-yelling each-other and the Blacks were simply yelling AT each-other. The few Caucasians present were either trying to sleep, or simply staring at the TV, blankly. It truly looked like a scene from some horrid asylum. If I didn’t know I’d swear the food had contained medications of some sort to dull everyone’s senses. I resolved today, I would NOT eat anything offered by the place and drink ONLY beverages purchased out-side the building. Not that I was paranoid. Actually, I’d had more than I could stand of being denied personal rights and freedoms. I thought, if, by chance, we had to stay longer than through Monday, and I didn’t eat, I’d eventually become ill from hunger, brought to the local hospital (Lincoln, no doubt) and tell my story of the deprivation of human rights in the shelter. Ah, the Rebel in me… silly, little, me. Still, it was a resolution and I stuck to it. – At 17.00 the crowd was permitted down-stairs to the cafeteria for “dinner”. I was to learn, later, that breakfast now consisted of cold cereal with milk and an orange… lunch was cold sandwich, milk and juice, piece of fruit. I never asked about dinner (and didn’t much care to know). At this hour, we were also permitted to go to the dorms and so, that is what I did, after stepping out to have a smoke. There would be no smoking in the loo in this building! Not by me anyway. – In the dorm, some of us were already there. The fellow in Bed 1 struck up a conversation. At first he seemed OK. Seemed to have plans and aspirations. As he spoke, I took out my needle and thread and got to work repairing the tear in the luggage. At one point, Security (ParkAv) came by, saw me sewing and stood at the bed staring as if he’d never seen anything like it! I expected him to confiscate my needle and thread (he didn’t). Meanwhile, “Ken” (I think that was his name) began repeating himself over-and-over-and-over again! His volume grew louder and his tone more irate. It suddenly occurred to me: Probably Psych! When I tried to respond to his inquiries or statements, he completely ignored me. At last I’d had more than enough and asked for some peace. It wasn’t forth-coming so I pointed out to him that I was tired of his repetitiveness and asked that he leave me in peace to finish what I was working at. “You think your life is so perfect! Well MY life is NOT linear like yours. I’ve been to places. I’ve been to New Orleans and Austin! I haven’t just been here. My life is not linear like yours!” So I calmly looked up and asked, softly “Just how long have you been Schizo-typal?” and he went into a tirade! “How DARE you? How DARE you sit an diagnose me! Who do you think you are? I am NOT schizophrenic!” I replied “I didn’t say you are. But schizo-typal… you’re really quite text-book. Had I the DSM IV here I could show you.” He retreated… RAPIDLY! (I thought: BINGO! I passed that exam. I hit the diagnosis! I still recognise certain symptoms. My education was not for naught. ) And I returned to my repairs. – For the next few hours, I don’t really recall much of what I did, other than to look out the window at the increasing wind and rains. The old Black man in bed 4, frail, thin, coughing terribly had me a bit concerned: emphysema, TB, a cold, flu? He laid in bed, under the blanket, coughing. I watched the weather change. – By about 21.30 I’d gone into the shower. It was, I have to admit, a wonderful experience to be back in Bronx Water! How CLEAN! I could have stayed in there for eternity. But the fact remained: After 22.00, the showers became “FORBIDDEN”! AND, if we weren’t IN the bed at 22.30, we lost the bed. (I was to learn later that 2 fellows were tossed over the week-end: One on Saturday night and the other on Sunday… IN THE STORM! For what reason/s I don’t know. But to toss a Homeless person out into a HURRICANE? This was rather indicative of the general atmosphere.) Shower done, I returned to the bed, to wait-out the storm. – Got to talking a bit with the fellow in Nr.2. Nice guy! Truly. And from Borden! (Geo.! D15!) So we weren’t the only shelter to be evacuated. And talking with this fellow was a pleasure. – 22.00 brought the announcement: “LADY ON!” The Directress was coming to do bed-check! She announced so that we could be “properly attired” for her presence. Right. She came in, looked and left the room. At some point there-after came the next “announcement”: “LIGHTS OUT!” THEY have control over the lights in the dorms, WE do not (this would present quite a problem later in the night). So the lights flashed off, then on, then off… for the night. The day was done and we were too. – The old guy in Nr.4 coughed fitfully all through the night. Kept me awake, noise and concern. And it was good that he did… At some point in time, as I lay in the dim light coming through the door from the hall, I happened to notice the sound of water dripping “above” the ceiling. We were on the top floor so that meant the water was coming through the roof! I lay in bed, listening to the water and to the old guy coughing when suddenly I heard the splash on the floor! The water was coming in through the light fixture! I could barely see it in the dim light from the hall! But there it was! I got up, moved my bed to the side. Next, the idiot in Nr.7 (I was Nr.8) began getting wet. The leak was spreading and coming from the light fixture over HIS bed too! The floor was wet! Shined, polished stone and wet! The air conditioner was still on. The place was now COLD and DAMP! And the old guy in 4 coughed so that it sounded more like Cancer than much else. I went out to the slop sink, across the hall and round the corner and got a bucket. The “guard” on the floor didn’t bother to ask why. I didn’t bother to say why. I parked the bucket on the floor and tried to get some rest, but rest was not to come tonight. The leaks got progressively worse and the coughing did as well. – I think it must have been round about 2.00 when I went down to the 1st floor to tell of the old guy’s coughing (never mind the bit about the leak… I figured this was a shelter and leaks wouldn’t matter to any-one… I was correct). I went directly to Administration thinking; if the guy is in need of hospital, it should be done expeditiously. Admin. would be the ones to phone. On the 1st floor I approached the evening Director: “I thought you should know that the old guy in bed 4 is coughing so terribly that it sounds like he’ll bring up a piece of lung with another cough.” The reply? “How did you get down here?” “I took the stairs.” “Security was supposed to stop you. You’re not allowed down here at this hour!” (After lights-out, we’re not “allowed” to be any-where other than our bed! More violation of humanity and dignity!) The Admin sent a security guard up to the room with me (OH FORBID we should be walking about the place alone!) where he simply asked the old guy if he was OK. Period. Asked him if he wanted to go to hospital. The old guy said he didn’t. They left it at that. There was no mention of the bucket on the floor… the BRIGHT YELLOW bucket on the grey floor. – I let it go. No sense in pursuing any of it. – By now the wind was beating against the building, the rains were whipping round in the winds and the night was well into turning into the next morning. All the while, the water was coming down from the ceiling onto my bed and Nr.7. (Wednesday 7 Sept. SIBL 18.59) Not to mention, it was puddling on the floor as well, and on a high-gloss surface, that’s just what was needed… one slip… BANG! Concussion, if not something worse. But they didn’t care. – At some point I had to get a mop and that meant walking into the hall and round the corner again. A “Security Guard”, sitting on a chair, looked at me as I came through with the mop. He didn’t ask, but I told him about the leak. He came to “look”. Nothing more. Next thing I knew, all through the night, idiots came and went, little flash-lights in hand. They came into the room, looked at the water that was, by now, an almost steady stream coming from the edges of the light fixtures. At one point one of them simply told me “We’re here to look at the leak.” “Look at” and nothing more. Nothing said about getting us OUT of the room. Nothing said about the wet beds. Nothing said about the potential danger of slipping on the wet floor. Besides which, the lights were out, the floor had a very high-gloss finish and the water couldn’t actually be seen! I noticed it when I stepped down off my bed and, in flip-flops the water came over the edge of them and I felt the cold water on my feet! – It was a night of NO SLEEP! Between trying to watch my bed, listening to the potential leak in the corner of the ceiling (water coming through the roof and tapping on the ceiling in the room) and wondering if the old guy by the window was about to cough his lungs up, I lay there all through the night…

Sunday 28 August: At some point, I dozed off. I don’t remember when. All I know is that my next event was when somebody from the damned shelter came into the room and exclaimed “This is bad!” Oh my. Really? The water hadn’t been mopped for a while and the way these morons realised there was a leak at all is because the water had gone out of the room and into the hall! – I got up in silence. I figured there was no sense in saying anything because these people were obviously hostile toward all of us (residents from 30th Street and the staff from 30th as well). Telling me that I was forbidden to leave the room/floor after 22.00 didn’t make me comfortable at all either. So I simply got my things together and went down the hall to the shower. Brushed my teeth, took my shower and went back to the dorm to dress. – A while later, as I now recall, the Directress came in and actually ASKED if we wanted to be relocated! As if we should STAY in the room! When I said “That might be in your best interest before somebody slips on all this water.” things began moving. She made the announcement that we would be relocated to another room, to pack our things and get ready. Then she asked if I and Nr.7 would need linens! I’d pulled mine to the top of the bed to avoid any further damage to them from the water but they’d already been wet. So I simply said “Yes.” as did Nr.7. – Some time later we were assigned new beds/dorms. Unfortunately Nr.7 went to the same room as I, and to the bed beside mine. (I went from rm.210.bed8 to rm.213.bed10 and Nr.7 to bed9) – The new room had 10 beds in it. I got the one directly inside the door. Not great, but I didn’t mind too much because it had the electric behind it. I could charge the phone at last! And since it was Sunday, I THOUGHT we’d be able to stay in the room during the day. New linens were on the bed when I arrived! And another pillow. The pillows were so horrid that even folding them in half lent no support for the head. So I took my first pillow, added it to the second and it was rather comfortable. When I was done making-up the bed and putting my belongings into the locker, I went down-stairs for a smoke. As I was leaving the building, I bumped into the Directress with whom I spoke about last night. I told her that I’d gotten no sleep because of the water and the old guy. She told me “When you get to your room, try to get some sleep during the day.” WHAT A CROCK OF SHIT THAT TURNED INTO! – On my way out of the building, I asked, again, what the circumstances were for Monday morning. Again, I asked an anonymous woman who refused to identify herself. But she told me to go into the “office” (area) and ask another unidentified woman who should know. I went in and there, THERE! TWO OF THE BRIGHTEST FACES I COULD IMAGINE! CRAWFORD AND OCHIAGA! HOME PEOPLE! (At this point I knew I was on the edge because I was actually THRILLED and COMFORTED to see 2 CaseWorkers from 30th Street). I gave my condolences to Crawford. Her husband recently died. She was taking it very well. Ochiaga was ever so pleasant as well. It was more like seeing old Friends… on both sides. We chatted a brief while, I asked about Monday. Neither of them were being told anything either. So… I went out, had a smoke, bought some coffee at the corner Hess station. The wind and rains were coming from all round! But the rains weren’t torrential as such. So I made it in my jack’s 99-cent poncho. Only the bottoms of my jeans got thoroughly soaked. My sneakers held up rather well enough. – As I stood in the gas station, sipping and enjoying my morning coffee, the clerk told me that I could take my time and enjoy the coffee. I was so appreciative! A stocky Black man came in, well dressed, casual. He was offering car service if any-one needed. We got to talking. “Greg”. A Minister/Pastor. Christian. We chatted about the weather, world conditions in general, and light religion. It was SO DELIGHTFUL! Talking with a “human-being” and one of substance and education! I wished it could have lasted much longer but he had to get going and so too, did I. We shook hands. He left. I finished my coffee, thanked the clerk and headed back out into the rain. When I got back to the damned prison, I had to stand in the rain, on the street, and wait for someone to come open the gate. Once in, I had another smoke, under the portico at the loading dock and went into the building with the hope of relaxing and resting. As I walked in, the fellow who’d been in bed 210-2 was leaving. I gave him the rain poncho… and came back into the room. – In the short while I was gone, SOMEONE had taken one of my pillows! Just aa note: I happened to notice that Nr.7-now Nr.9 (fat faggy fellow) had about 5 or 6 pillows on hisbed! Would he ahve taken mine? No doubt!) I was just settling-in on the bed, looking forward to a nice nap when one of “OUR” Security Guards from 30th St. came in: “I’m really sorry to tell you this guys but they want you all to go to the Recreation Room down-stairs.” She honestly was sorry to bring the news. But Nr.7 went OFF! And I mean “OFF”! He sat bolt-up-right in the bed and began SCREECHING at the poor woman (Corona): “What the fuk is wrong with you people! You can’t get anything right around here! First you tell us to come here and stay. Then you change it and tell us to get out! What the fuk is your problem? You stupid cunt! I hope you get breast cancer and die!” Corona simply said “Sir. I didn’t make the rule. I was sent here to tell you. That’s all. I’m sorry about it. But don’t talk to me like that.” He kept screaming at her. I shut-down for the most part. But had he gotten up, I was prepared to defend Corona in what-ever way I needed to. As he screamed, she asked him if he needed some kind of medications. I don’t really recall what he said but he obviously needed something to shut him up at this point. – Finally, Corona left the room and Nr.7 kept his tirade for a while longer. I simply got up, got my-self together as much as I could and headed down-stairs. I mean, why bother saying anything to deaf ears? Especially when those deaf ears are attached to a somebody who had made it abundantly clear that they despise you for no particular reason already. I ended-up in the Recreation Room in the basement level. The TV had… TNT on. But the volume was lower and so was the volume of talking. I looked about a bit and there… on the wall… “Darsevid”! The shit was HERE too! Thankfully, not in the same room as I. He glanced and then looked back at the TV. – As I sat there, solo, trying to get comfortable in a plastic chair, I over-heard one of the FJC Security Guards from 30th Street say to another “I can’t wait to get back to 30th Street!” and my heart just about came up into my mouth! THEY TOO? I HAD to ask… and sure enough… the staff at ParkAv. Shelter was treating THEM in the VERY SAME manner as they were treating US! Condescending. “Barking”. Snapping orders. I’d learned that ParkAv. had THREE security companies present: Their own, Archangel (whose people were rather kind… particularly the night crew) and OURS… FJC! THREE Security companies! What the fuk did they expect of us!? Their own security treated ours like shit whilst they, the ParkAv. crew, sat back and did nothing. The Archangel crew pretty much avoided our security altogether. The whole thing was just unbelievably degrading, demeaning and insulting to us all! But, there we were, trapped in this place as Hurricane Irene gave us something more like a heavy rain storm than a hurricane. Still, there was no-where to go to and no way to get to any-where since ALL public transport in the city had been shut down completely. – Eventually, I fell asleep for what I think was about 90 minutes in a plastic chair… When I woke, it was only moments and the announcement to queue up for dinner came. I sat. I had no appetite. I wanted OUT and didn’t want to eat anything from these bastards and bitches. I sat, watching TNT and wondering what the night would bring and looking forward to tomorrow when I had to get out and get to work! That presented another problem: Was there a time before which we were not to leave the premises? Would we TRULY be sent BACK tomorrow and out of that hell-trap? I’d already asked about 3 people and not once could I get an answer. Seemed NOBODY knew ANYTHING about much of ANYTHING. (12 September 2011 Pen Lib 18.35) But that pretty much covered the entire farce… NO INFORMATION FROM ANYBODY AT ANY TIME AND NOBODY WOULD GIVE THEIR NAME! The whole situation was suspicious. – When dinner was finished, or at some point in time, we were permitted to return to the room. – IN the course of some conversation between the Directress and one of the “residents” I over-heard that the “curfew” was NOT 22.00, as we’d been told last night but that we were expected to be IN THE BUILDING BY NOT LATER THAN 20.00! The Administration changed the rules, regulations and any and all information at will, at random. It all came to feel increasingly like we were incarcerated, in some sort of insane asylum! We’d come from Bellevue… the original Psychiatric Hospital-now-shelter but THIS! THIS actually WAS INSANITY! Even my days of working in Wingdale Psych. Institution weren’t this bad! But that experience helped me get along in this environment. I “knew” what was going on… it was an attempt to “break” spirits (in case anybody had any ideas that we might turn this place into “our” place). Anyway, I kept my mouth shut about it. Who the hell would I tell anyway? I went to the dorm (213-10) to prepare for the night… I doubted I’d get much rest (and I was right again). But I needed… NEEDED to shower and recline! That’s all I wanted. – It was getting late. I’d been told to come back down-stairs for the evening shift to ask about tomorrow (Monday). So at this point, that’s what I did. Down to ask about. Some unidentified woman appeared. She asked if I had a problem. I said, after a fashion I most certainly did: I needed to leave VERY early in the morning on Monday and needed to know if I should bring my possessions with me when I left. FINALLY A DIRECT ANSWER! I was told to bring my belongings with me and when I got off from work, go directly back to 30th Street. OH MY GOD YES! BACK TO 30TH STREET! I was ecstatic! Back up to the dorm! Off to the shower. A nice, comfortable, warm shower, and back into the room, on the fresh linens. (continuing 13 Sept. SIBL) I got as comfortable as I could, waited for the “Bed-Check”. – At about 22.00 or so, an “Archangel” security guard came round. Looked into the room. Checked the beds. On his way out, he went to close the door! We needed that door open for ventilation! 10 beds in the damned room and with the door closed there was no air! I said, nicely, that we’d like to keep the door open for ventilation. He told me we couldn’t because it was a “Fire Door”. That’s when I began to lose it. Shit! It was my last night. What the hell did I care? I told him, sternly, that the door to room 210 was open ALL through the night, even through the leaking. THAT wasn’t a “Fire Door” any more or less than this one. Also, if we need to keep the door open for ventilation, or other-wise, we have the right to do so. He began to argue and I simply interjected “So in essence, you’re going to lock us in?” “There’s no lock on the door.” “Then you’re going to shut us in? Have you ever heard of the ‘Callahan Decree’? I believe you’re in direct violation of that. I suggest you look into it before closing us in here.” He said that there was a Supervisor from DHS on the premises this evening and that he’d send him up to the room and I could discuss the issue with him. Well! The young Dominican fellow in the room (a little loony but fine just as well… for the evening, though I’d probably drug him or me if I’d have to spend much more time with him) jumps up from his bed, runs into the hall yelling “No! No! No Supervisor. It’s OK. OK? Don’t get no supervisor. It’s all OK. OK?” It was very strange but I never heard a reply from anybody BUT… only brief moments later, the same Archangel “security” guard returned, with a piece of cardboard which he’d removed from the door, and he replaced said cardboard and bade us all a “Good night”. Shortly there-after came the fellow from DHS (or, at least I though so because he was wearing a DHS jacket). He came strolling in, all smiles and commented “I’ll bet you guys wish you could stay here instead of going back to Bellevue tomorrow.” I replied “Bullshit!” “What? You don’t want to stay here? You prefer 30th Street?” “If the subways were running right now I’d be on the A train until I could get back to my old room and bed! I’ve never been so happy to LEAVE some place as I am to get out of here.” He just looked a bit surprised and let the issue ride. They left and in a few short moments THERE-after… darkness in the rooms (not in the halls, however). It was “lights-out” at last! I curled up under the blanket and hoped for sleep! I waited for a bit though and when I figured that nobody would return, I FINALLY got to plug my phone into the outlet behind the bed, ran the cord so that it couldn’t be detected from the door and put the phone under my pillow. HAH! Good-night INDEED!

Monday 30 August 2011 After a night of precious little sleep, I woke, with the alarm, at about 4.00. I was determined to get the hell out of that place as quickly as possible! I couldn’t have a bottle of water in the locker and they’d taken my instant coffee. So I’d planned on going to the Hess station for morning coffee. I still had no idea if or when the subways would be re-open but I really didn’t care. One of the best things was that I knew where I was and how to get to the train to get the hell out! Or, so I thought. The plan was to walk over to The Concourse and take the D from the under-pass… well… I got up, went right for the loo and then to the shower. Oddly, it was a bitter-sweet moment: There is NO water on Earth like in The Bronx! I always felt so perfectly clean after a shower “at home” (and let’s face it, The Bronx really is “Home” after all the years lived there). Even Viv commented when she’d come from Montreal. Everybody who ever visited said that the water tasted wonderful and made you feel clean. I’d been bathing in “lead water” for weeks at 30th Street! I wanted to take water back with me! But, again… no bottle! Anyway, into the shower, lingered a bit and out! Into the dorm, dry and dress. I was already packed. Just threw my night scrubs into the baggage and over to the elevator. We’d been FORBIDDEN to take the elevator… yes… FORBIDDEN, even though some of us had heavy baggage (like me, who’d packed everything except my cleaning supplies). But I figured that there was really nothing much they could do to me now except give me some kind of useless lecture on how I had no right to take the lift! Fukkem! Oddly, one of the nicer staff was getting onto the life as I boarded. He came in and said “I’ll go with you so nobody has anything to say about you using the elevator.” I was tempted to tell him to shove all the “them” but figured it useless to say anything to anybody any more. Besides… I was LEAVING! and I wasn’t coming back! – On the first floor, about 5.20. I told the “Security” that I had a plastic bag with an envelope in it and one envelope in the “Meds” (Vit.C and a bottle of aspirin! Fuk!). There was no trouble! He notified some other “Staff” person who asked me for my “Meal TIcket” (I’d been using it for general admission ID all along) and went directly to get all. In moments, I was OUT ON THE STREET! AND SO HAPPY TO BE THERE! It was still dark. It was calm. It was almost comfortably cool. It was QUIET! It was… THE BRONX! I walked down to the Hess station, got a medium coffee with half’n’half and headed out. Stopped at the corner to finish my coffee and went to 161st, hung a right and headed for The Grand Concourse (and Boulevard) (though NOBODY seems to know that that’s it’s actual and OFFICIAL name!). Went directly under to where the entrance to the D train SHOULD have been. IT WAS GONE! I MEAN “GONE”! CEMENTED OVER! Bloomberg and his band of MTA thieves changed SO much on the system and this too fell prey. So I simply walked over to River Ave., down the stairs and off to the D to 125th Street for the A to… HoBe! I was OUT of Hell! I was back to my “normal” routine. I had my luggage with me. (Thankfully I could tell people that I’d been in The Bronx because of the evacuation… I didn’t have to say from whence.)

THE NIGHTMARE WAS ALMOST OVER… I say “almost” because I didn’t trust a damned soul at ParkAve. I was told to go back to 30th Street after work. But in this system, so much changes so quickly and so often that there’s no trusting the word of ANY ONE! I was anxious during the day and making alternate plans of where to spend the night… ANY-WHERE EXCEPT… I WOULD NOT GO BACK TO PARK AVE. SHELTER! And so the day went along…

30/08/2011 at 13:57 (Edit)
13.54 HoBe Happy Birthday Giuda and 50p visa.
31/08/2011 at 05:56 (Edit)
5.50 34th/1st As I left the shelter this morning, oblivious to the world, from behind me I heard “Goodmorning…” and MY NAME! 850-plus in here and because of those 3 days in HELL (ParkAv), the staff remembers MY name! And in a positive manner. Yes… there are blessings left in Creation. – Happy 56 yrs.
06:03 (Edit)
5.57 M34 Meanwhile, this morning, we are in “groinal” pain. The heavy luggage on the week-end plus having to lift Mr.E. from the floor, alone, yesterday. Something got pulled. But, here we are, off to “work” anyway. Off to the P.O. so as to get documentation to satisfy somebody else. In spite of personal pain. Y’know? Creation is just… illogical, irrational. But 6am on MadAv is quite pretty. – The World is beautiful; people will fuk it up. – I don’t care.
06:55 (Edit)
6.54 Q53 This makes me nervous: Immed. xfer to the A, immed. Q53. Hmmm…
21:50 (Edit)
21.28 6w-107 Made it to the P.O. (pay-stub and notice of “Annual” evals… shit) and to work by 7.48 or so. OK. But I should have gone to Waldbaums for PopTarts because I got nuttin’ t’eat before sleep t’nite. A…LAS. – Mr.E. began in a good mood but changed to horror as soon as it was time to get up. Really combative this morning! It became a “Wingdale” morning as his arms flailed. But he got a good bed-bath and he ate well. Me? I stayed silent most of the day. By 16.00 I was back on the “Good Guy” list and when I told Mrs. about the morning? She looked at him, then looked at me with a grin and said “You lie.” And we laughed. – A quick trip to SIBL this evening. A “SEPTEMBER” page added! SHIT! The Summer is GONE! ONE day at the beach all season! ONE! GONE! I can’t believe it! AND… I’m still in this hole, and this city, and this state! THIS SHIT MUST CHANGE! – I’ve begun the recounting of the week-end at the ParkAvShelter. I’ve chosen to document in “Word” then add it in here. This way I can print it and mail it out as well. I doubt I’ll forget anything… that terror, trauma. – Then, I get here… there’s a note on the locker: EVERYTHING MUST BE REMOVED FROM THE TOP OF THE LOCKER (the only thing ON the locker was the note) FROM UNDER, ON AND AROUND THE BED. TONIGHT? I HAD to wash my scrubs! It’s why I came in at 20.00! Well… the wet scrubs (washed) are presently ON the locker to dry over-night. E1 says somebody came round to measure the window. Hmmm… OK. Let’s see what crap they use to replace the missing window and when. (Y’gotta luv this place.) – Security’s running about looking for somebody. She comes into the room asking our “room”(bed) numbers. Why? I doubt even she knows. But she was asking everybody in the hall for their “room”(bed) number. Life back at 30th Street. How wonderful. – In addition to this morning’s “Goodmorning-by-name”? The guy doing sign-in remembers my bed to me. I’m “known” by staff. Hey! Not for wrong so it’s very right. – 21.49 Showered. Lights are out. Cont…
21:52 (Edit)
The radio’s on but not blaring. I need a smoke. NO FOOD! But it’s OK. – Summer… Gone. FFTW! THERE! Said it. Done.

http://www.loopnet.com/Listing/14998078/3339-Park-Avenue-Bronx-NY/
3339 Park Avenue
3339 Park Avenue, Bronx, NY 10456
Price:N/A
Building Size:55,000 SF
Property Type:IndustrialProperty
Sub-type:WarehouseAdditional
Sub-types:Manufacturing
Self/ Mini-Storage Facility
Distribution WarehouseProperty Use Type:Vacant/Owner-User
No. Stories:2
Year Built:1920
Clear Ceiling Height:14 ft.
No. Dock-High Doors/Loading:4
No. Drive In / Grade-Level Doors:1
Lot Size:31,989 SF
Features:Fenced Yard
Trailer Parking
Cooling is available
Heating is available
Electricity/Power
Sprinklers

Last Verified 5/9/2007

Listing ID 14998078
Highlights
Great Location-close to public transportation
Priced way below replacement cost
Close to the courthouse
solidly built
Three street frontage
extra usable 5000 square foot sub-basement
Description
Zoned M1-1
Building size: 1st floor-25,000 square feet, 2nd floor-20,000 square feet, basement-10,000 square feet, sub-basement-5,000 square feet.
Two 6,000 pound freight elevators.
A sign company currently pays $8,000 per year until 2008 and then $10,000 per year until 1/1/2013.

Three street frontage on Park Avenue, Clay Avenue and 165th Street