For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none.
If there be one, seek till you find it;
If there be none, never mind it.
---Mother Goose
I still don’t feel like doing anything. Anything. Nothing. It’s the drowning season in Grayworld and I have to push myself just to stand up. Why should I? Why not just lie down?
That paragraph above took 9 days to write . . . and another couple of days for me to look at : boot up my laptop, doubleclick on the “Drowning Season” Word file icon, stare at the words a while, then shutdown.
Then I walk downstairs to the mess hall, look around at the vacant tables, take the elevator back upstairs, boot up my laptop, doubleclick on the “Drowning Season” Word file icon . . . .
This second paragraph took 4 more bootups and 4 more shutdowns to accomplish.
It's not like nothing's happening around me. Plenty is. Here's a little story I tried to start last week or so (time is irrelevant in GrayWorld) :
After Gordon The Anarchist and I suited up and marched on the Inglewood Courthouse to break my 73 year-old homeless, camper-dwelling, dog poop-smelling attorney Don out of CJ, old county jail, the old man came back to my shelter and told some of my fellow homeless veterans that I was the nicest man he had ever met in his 73 years on the planet.
Horrorfied, I quickly took Don aside and told him, “You don’t tell a pack of ravenous wolves that one of their own tastes like lamb, Don!”
My homeless attorney Don has been keeping close to the veterans' shelter since we sprang him from CJ. He's not a veteran, but we've adopted him. He has two more court dates for his crimes of rampant homelessness, both in early February.
I think he's scared. He's been asking a lot of biblical questions lately, as if he senses his end is near. So, I've been giving bible study in my room: fours hours yesterday, three today.
Don seems relaxed now, but my roommate Mike (who sat in on the bible study) has Orphan Annie eyes over this revolting revelation that his roommate (that would be me) seems to be some sort of Jesus freak. I think Mike is afraid I'll force baptize him
Meanwhile, the merry-go-round continues here. My old V.I.P. roommate Bobby (see Confessions of a Middle-aged Crack Addict) is back in the program.
My buddy Regan moved out, waaaaay out, to Pusan, Korea.
Michael The Escort Agency owner is back.
Frank just plain disappeared as recovering addicts are wont to do and the faces here change and change again and return to their original state and change again and I'm looking for that Mother Goose remedy for my blechs and blahs and nothing much is happening there except run-on sentences and afternoon indigestion and I see that there is no end to something as circular as a Merry-Go-Round . . . you just gotta get off. No way around that.
That paragraph above took 9 days to write . . . and another couple of days for me to look at : boot up my laptop, doubleclick on the “Drowning Season” Word file icon, stare at the words a while, then shutdown.
Then I walk downstairs to the mess hall, look around at the vacant tables, take the elevator back upstairs, boot up my laptop, doubleclick on the “Drowning Season” Word file icon . . . .
This second paragraph took 4 more bootups and 4 more shutdowns to accomplish.
It's not like nothing's happening around me. Plenty is. Here's a little story I tried to start last week or so (time is irrelevant in GrayWorld) :
After Gordon The Anarchist and I suited up and marched on the Inglewood Courthouse to break my 73 year-old homeless, camper-dwelling, dog poop-smelling attorney Don out of CJ, old county jail, the old man came back to my shelter and told some of my fellow homeless veterans that I was the nicest man he had ever met in his 73 years on the planet.
Horrorfied, I quickly took Don aside and told him, “You don’t tell a pack of ravenous wolves that one of their own tastes like lamb, Don!”
My homeless attorney Don has been keeping close to the veterans' shelter since we sprang him from CJ. He's not a veteran, but we've adopted him. He has two more court dates for his crimes of rampant homelessness, both in early February.
I think he's scared. He's been asking a lot of biblical questions lately, as if he senses his end is near. So, I've been giving bible study in my room: fours hours yesterday, three today.
Don seems relaxed now, but my roommate Mike (who sat in on the bible study) has Orphan Annie eyes over this revolting revelation that his roommate (that would be me) seems to be some sort of Jesus freak. I think Mike is afraid I'll force baptize him
Meanwhile, the merry-go-round continues here. My old V.I.P. roommate Bobby (see Confessions of a Middle-aged Crack Addict) is back in the program.
My buddy Regan moved out, waaaaay out, to Pusan, Korea.
Michael The Escort Agency owner is back.
Frank just plain disappeared as recovering addicts are wont to do and the faces here change and change again and return to their original state and change again and I'm looking for that Mother Goose remedy for my blechs and blahs and nothing much is happening there except run-on sentences and afternoon indigestion and I see that there is no end to something as circular as a Merry-Go-Round . . . you just gotta get off. No way around that.
Tags: U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, Department of Veteran Affairs, U.S. Vets, L.A. Vets, V.A., Veterans Administration, veterans shelter, homeless veterans, transitional living facility, outsourcing V.A. programs, Revver, viral video, videoblogging, Mother Goose, Grayworld, drowning season, Hollywood anarchist, Inglewood, CJ, old county jail, ravenous wolves, rampant homelessness, biblical questions, Orphan Annie, merry-go-round, jarvis, marquisdejolie
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