I’m Gettin’ There

It’s nice to have a room again. 

A room that stays relatively comfortable during unbearably hot days. 

A room I can walk into middle of the day and stretch out on the bed. 

Two electric fans: one from the ceiling and another standing alone by the television are all I need to keep me cool and dry enough to nap…

For almost an hour.

Couldn’t do that the 7 months I was homeless.

Couldn’t do that a year and a half ago when I was renting a hot box room from Chester of the Golden Mask. 

15 electric fans, a window unit and 7 blocks of ice wouldn’t have cooled that furnace.

This afternoon, I woke and stretched and marveled at my progress.

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Good Thing I Don’t Believe In Freud

It’s raining hard this morning. Supposed to be this way all day.

Just as well.

Texted my friend last night. Wrote, “My brother’s such a chickenshit.” Then I sent it…to my brother.

It was an accident.

I walked from the bath to his room and said, “Sean, about that text.”

He hadn’t read it. So, I told him what it said. And he said, “Why didn’t you just tell me to my face?”

And I said,”Chickenshit, I guess.”

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Besides, He’s No Crazy Chester

I moved in with my brother. 

I was officially homeless seven months. 

I’m not counting the two months I basically lived in my car and paid Chester rent coz my stuff was still in my room at the house he was leasing.

Chester was crazy. 

At least, I think he was crazy. 

But, that part about “state probation takes your soul from your body” and requires the probationee to “wear a gold mask and engage in spiritual warfare on the 4th of July” and petition “Pope Francis every three months to have the mask removed and be released from all legal restrictions” and “allow the soul to be returned to the body.”

That might be true.

Anyway, it all became too much for me when Chester took the $400 I gave him for lodging/utilities, spent it all on a weekend drunk and told the landlord I wasn’t paying my share of the rent. 

That’s when I officially moved out. Chester maintained I owed him more money but I refused to pay him despite his threat to have “evil spread through” my “brain and blood.”

“Not another penny,” I told him.

Being homeless wasn’t so bad. I had a friend who let me sleep in his office most nights. 

When his place was not available, I’d pull into Walmart parking lot and have a nice snooze.

I took my brother up on his invitation to move into his house when it looked like he’d be between jobs. 

I told him I could contribute some cash to help him through a rough time. 

He said,”Not necessary.” 

But, it was necessary for me coz my brother and I have had some tremendous arguments throughout the years, bordering on extreme violence. 

I did not want my desire to live under a roof to comprimise my freedom. I had to find a way to maintain a healthy distance from this man I call brother.

Being his tennant provides the space I need to live in his house and, at the same time, have my own life.

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And I Want To Live

I haven’t been writing much. 

Oh, I’ve been composing songs. 

Telling a Facebook story or two. 

Nothing more.

Lately, I haven’t felt like singing. I do it because it’s my job but there is no shower shoutin, no head bangin vocal response to a radio rock anthem, no lullabies and goodnight Irene’s.

I’ve turned a switch and my music is no longer broadcast during day to day activity.  

I’ve had no interest in sharing a personal lyric, an original tune these past few months. 

Thinking I needed to rest my voice, I’ve remained silent…

and unhappy…



No way to live.

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Weather PermittingĀ 

The grey clouds have been hanging plump and low in the sky since this morning. 

Had to wait over 3 hours for the storm to hit. 

Thunder, lightening, wind and rain. 

A mother and daughter in Mississippi, trapped in their scrap metal trailer, found dead this morning. 

Nothin personal. Just hope it doesn’t happen here.

I take refuge in a diner, order coffee, no cream, no sugar and an All the Way Deluxe Cheeseburger with Fries.

Some loud lady is looking at a quiet man. She’s saying, “Ketchup. I want ketchup.”

I sip hot liquid from a ceramic cup and I open my Get Rich Quick workbook to the page promising I can “make $1,000 today.”

I look out the window just as several pages of a newspaper flap and float across the parking lot.

I take a fry and dip it into the mustard puddle on my plate. 

I think, “Three. Three hundred would suit me fine.”

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, Love, Memoir, Money, Poetry, Relationships | 2 Comments

More Than Money

I read this post on Facebook about the Law of Attraction.

Checked out the free videos, too.

For a fee, I would be given a secret prosperity prayer and an amazing attraction amulet.

I pressed the “Thank you, no” icon, closed my eyes and pictured all good things coming my way.

I sold some tee-shirts, a good paying gig came out of nowhere, and Joey’s granny starting giving me gas money for driving her grandson everywhere he needs to go.

I said, “His mom should be givin me money, not you.”

“It’s from her. 

She gave it to me. 

She thinks it’s going to buy her more time at my house. 

She doesn’t realise her welcome is wrecked and worn way past reconcilliation but, as long as she leaves these dollars for me, I’m giving them to you.”

I thanked her. And I thanked the Laws of Attraction.

Joey swam his ass off yesterday. One third place and three first place finishes.

I sent his granny photos/videos from my cell. 

I sent his mom nothing. 

If it’s not football, if it’s not basketball, she doesn’t give a shit. 

She was off work. 

She could’ve attended. 

Instead, she slept all day.

Okay with me.

Joey slaps his wet hand on my back, “Thought you’d be gone. Don’t you have a show?”

“Nah,” I said. “Cancelled. Shut down by the Law of Attraction.”

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Watch “No lover” on YouTube

https://youtu.be/mt3V03_JxR8 My buddy jgturtle and I goofin off on Valentine’s. 

Posted in Blues, Co-Dependency, Love, Memoir, Parenting, Poetry, Relationships | 1 Comment