Sunday, October 4, 2009

"Okay, Okay!"

"You've convinced me. So stop nagging."

Well 'mostly' convinced me. My pals from all my various worlds, radioland, the blogsphere, and my family are all pissed at me for wanting to disappear back on to the streets.

...and this with winter coming on.

'Back onto streets, and or railways. In fact after a while out there most of my time 'was' spent on trains of one kind or another.

At first I did the subways which I lived on for a time. Btw That's my HO scale IRT No.4 train up there.

Hey there's no manual for being homeless. I learned real fast to get the hell out'a them tunnels. Amtrak, and the LIRR made more sense.

That's where the middle class homeless hid out. Them that still had jobs or savings that is. There's a book or little movie in that part of my adventure,...more later.

Anyway I went into this seriously grim despair recently, and considered returning to my life on the outside.

My return to property holding normality hasn't had the power on me that some hoped it would.

Still doesn't, but I'm doing the best I can. I went from bourgeois boredom to homeless destitution, and back.

Btw a friend suggested I get a book out as soon as possible. This because they'll soon be a glut on the market of stories like mine. What with the financial meltdown kicking 'real' people onto the streets.

This as opposed to the usual poor, and unwhite.

There's dough to be made getting in early on the "I was a homeless interior designer" market. I wait too long and tear stained saga's like mine will be a penny a dozen.

Anyone out there wanna be my agent?

"To Hell, and Back", ...or how to get difficult old relatives to give you all their money before they drops dead"

It'll be a six cd set with t-shirts, and hats available through the website.

It 'was' Hell btw.

I saw, and did things you couldn't imagine. I thought I was a cynical, tough guy. I didn't know shit. No one who hasn't been out there has a clue.

The world of my dispossession was far more concrete than anything I've ever experienced. It's as if my whole life up to then was movie out of focus.

Turns out I'm in a badly written student film. Here I thought I was in one of them high brow Bergman deals.


Maybe if I'd actually gone to war as a kid. To Viet-Nam instead of getting a "medical" discharge I'd feel different. They kicked me out for being Queer. Oddly enough I 'wanted' to stay in. I'll tell ya that story sometime.

Anyway as a deranged ex-soldier I'd already have a prolonged life, and death trauma under my belt to sort the bullshit out of my life.

As it happened, and at a rather late date, 'another' unexpected trauma took me to the edge of the pit. ...and now I wanna go back.

Like old grunts returning to their battlefield.

They need to see it again. To make sure it really happened. That they saw what they saw, did what they did.

That's where I am now.

Mind you I 'do' love my new home. I love working on it, and I love giving dinner parties. I'm evolving into the perfect bourgeois hausfrau. However there's all this other stuff still echoing in my guts.

I loves ya all,...well maybe not 'all', but most of ya.

More later.

(This annoying tale was illustrated by assorted cute stuff from my toy box.)


Zaek said...

I share the feelings of your friends who want you to stay snug in your cozy new pied-a-terre. Though I think I have some conception of what's afflicting you. It sounds like shell shock, a kind of PTSD where one replays old traumatic tapes in the mind's effort to resolve extremely harrowing experiences, like a wounded soldier who feels the phantom limb. But maybe that's just an ignorant fumbling guess on my part. I just hope it heals up eventually, and am glad that at least you can sleep soundly in bed.

Uncle 2012 said...

Yeah You're in the ball park on this mayhem.

Thanks for the heart,...I'm working on it.