Tag Archives: Shelter

(1) I stay at the best shelter on the East Coast

… which shall here remain nameless, for reason that I also have harsh criticisms and don’t need any reader, however well-intentioned, to draw me into controversies not of my own choosing. The administration is rigid and authoritarian, and if I ever need to ask a favor it’s best I not be seen as a troublemaker.

I had ample time to prepare for homelessness. I packed up all my stuff neatly to make it easy for the landlady to dispose of. I gave away practically everything of durable value — dumbbells, tools, kitchen utensils, foodstuffs. Angie wanted to keep the bird feeder going after I would leave, so I showed her how. I was able to ask around and find out the highest-rated men’s homeless shelter in town. I went there at once when I became homeless March 7, 2011, and except for three nights, have been there ever since.
Continue reading (1) I stay at the best shelter on the East Coast

The pain pills saga

The dentist prescribed ibuprofen 800s and, for me to take at night if the toothache became severe, Hydrocodon-Acetaminoph 7.5-325.  This is a narcotic.  “Pain pills.”

I have a large zipper bag with four compartments.  There is a main compartment, which I can lock; a front compartment; a left side compartment; and a right side compartment.

Every afternoon when I sit on my bunk, I empty my pockets and put my phone, debit card, and cash in the main compartment.  I take my afternoon meds, which are already in there, and lock it all back up.

Related:  Giving it all away

Continue reading The pain pills saga

It pays to be grateful.

I meant to discuss how privileged you are if you can choose your food.

An event Thursday night changed that. Sometimes you’re privileged even when you can’t.

That same guy happened to be right behind me in the dinner line. As we approached the serving window, he got all put out because they’d run out of the chicken and French fries. What we had to accept instead:

Four thick slices of hot, tender, juicy, turkey breast with gravy, and this fantastic stuffing.

And mixed vegetables.

Related: I stay at the best shelter on the East Coast
Related: Learning curve
Continue reading It pays to be grateful.

Coming changes

10:56.  I have a noon appointment with my therapist.  I’d originally thought to stop downtown for coffee afterwards and then go to the mission.  However, last night I got turned away, so I now think to go straight from my doctor’s office to the mission:  I don’t know how long that walk takes.  If I arrive at the mission at 13:45 and have to stand there idle for 45 minutes — after last night, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.

This morning I’d meant to go up to the doctor’s office early, arriving at 11:00, and then try to find someone in Case Management to help me get into transitional housing.  I came to the library first, but it got to be 10:40, meaning I’d have less than an hour to work with the case manager; so I cancelled that plan for today.  Later this week I’ll have opportunities.

The move into transitional housing, and the transition into that move itself, are likely to bring many changes.

Continue reading Coming changes

Pull your pants up.

(Originally posted 05/27/12 at Trojan Horse Productions.)

Sunday, May 27, 2012

I wasn’t going to mention this, but then this happened at the shelter.

This might not have happened at a different shelter.

For about a week, this young boy’s been coming here who keeps one hand on his pants at all times. If he didn’t, they’d fall down completely. Normally his drawers are all showing.

I don’t know how many times they asked him to fix his pants, but tonight they finally told him if he doesn’t fix his pants he can’t come in.

If you wear your pants hanging off your butt to put yourself outside the mainstream, congratulations.

It works.

You’re not welcome in the mainstream.

You may not be welcome at the homeless shelter, either.

talk show host, on air talent, radio talk show, the homeless blogger

* (1) I stay at the best shelter on the East Coast

… which shall here remain nameless, for reason that I also have harsh criticisms and don’t need any reader, however well-intentioned, to draw me into controversies not of my own choosing. The administration is rigid and authoritarian, and if I ever need to ask a favor it’s best I not be seen as a troublemaker.

I had ample time to prepare for homelessness. I packed up all my stuff neatly to make it easy for the landlady to dispose of. I gave away practically everything of durable value — dumbbells, tools, kitchen utensils, foodstuffs. Angie wanted to keep the bird feeder going after I would leave, so I showed her how. I was able to ask around and find out the highest-rated men’s homeless shelter in town. I went there at once when I became homeless March 7, 2011, and except for three nights, have been there ever since.
Continue reading * (1) I stay at the best shelter on the East Coast

* Prayer is work, too.

Saint Benedict ran a monastery. He ran into the problem that many monks wanted to spend all their time praying and studying, and not do any of the dirty manual labor — housekeeping, tending livestock, working in the fields — needed to keep the place going. So he adopted and enforced the motto, Laborare est orare — “Work is prayer.”

In excess, religious study can become a drain on society’s resources. Many Haredi, or “ultra-orthodox,” men in Israel want to spend all their time in religious study instead of earning any money. (Article.) Meanwhile, a majority of them live on welfare, with eight to fifteen children. This places a burden on the remainder of society that that economy can no longer bear.

What about me?
Continue reading * Prayer is work, too.