Well autumn is here... and it's actually begun acting like it! The leaves in some parts have started changing to yellow, orange, red, and brown. Most of the leaves on the trees in Columbus have just tarnished to an odd shade of green and they'll probably turn straight to brown and fall off.
We had been staying with my sister during the week and commuting to school and work and coming up to my parents house on the weekends. We decided after almost being robbed that we needed a place to feel safe. I'm all done with class, but I have two finals on Monday and one on Tuesday. Amber has finished her last day of work. I have a few scattered days of work left, and we figure we need to get out of everywhere for a little while. We are pretty behind on our bills so we are taking the advice of our own tarot reading which has just recently been realized. We are taking a step back, seeking refuge, and returning home until after the holidays are over with. We have done a lot of reflecting and we've both experienced a lot in the past couple of months. We both think rather than throw ourselves at the mercy of West Virginia in our current condition, we should reset, get seasonal jobs, get caught up on our bills, fix our beloved (but needy) VW Van, maybe even save some money, and just allow some stability into our lives for a while, if only for a moment. I think we owe it to ourselves to set sail with sanity.
Meanwhile Abner the stationwagon has been treating us well. He has become our main mode of transportation because of the space in the back. It's so wonderful: we have been keeping our guitars back there at all times and we have room for bags and luggage whenever we need to bring it somewhere. If only he didn't piss out transmission fluid like a drunkard, we would be set for now with him. Also: his 25mph maximum handling of any hill too high to see over calls his vacuum integrity into question. We like him, though.
I learned to sleep in the back quite comfortably as I had been doing so every morning in the parking lot of Caribou while Amber was still working. Amber went to work at 5:30 and 6:30 in the morning but I did not have to be at class until 9 or 11, so I would throw our book bags in the front seat, let down the adjacent rag rug curtains, tuck up the fore and aft towel curtains, crawl under the sleeping bag in the back and curl up to sleep beside our guitar cases. This was not the same as sleeping in the car on a dark, shitty street out of pure necessity. It was actually a comfort. There was much room, few items in the car, it was dawn, and I was in a nice place where I felt safe. Best of all, I knew Amber was safe in the coffee shop, the sun would wake me up when it rose, and I could go inside for coffee and bread or a muffin and talk to Amber and some of her co-workers before I left for school. It may not sound like much, but it was pretty nice.
Well for now I'm off to enjoy a rented movie and eat real food while sitting on a couch. Again, it may not seem like much, as I'm sure none of this does, but we have learned to appreciate things like this, and I like that.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Bad week, Good weekend
*I've decided the term "urban camping" is actually incorrect for our situation. It will now be referred to as homelessness.*
So as it turns out Amber and I have been homeless now for a month to the day. We've been sleeping in the station wagon for about 2 weeks now. Things are getting rougher. When you live in the city, and I don't mean in an apartment in the city, I mean actually IN the city, you see everything. You feel everything. You witness extraordinarily beautiful moments in peoples' lives, and some of the most unimaginable ugliness. You hear people getting home late at night looking for a place to park. When it gets cold at night, you get cold. When the sun
claims morning and begins heating the car, you get hot. When it rains, you get wet because its still too hot to close all of the windows. The gusting wind commands your very bed to sway and every conversation walking by in the night awakens you. When you live on the street you become like a part of the city. You become a little more permanent and you are more of a fixture than a person in the places you frequent. This allows you to see things the way trees and sidewalks and buildings and gods do instead of the way a person would when speeding by and peering out tinted windows.
We haven't felt like ourselves in a long time, I think. We have been spending all of our time surviving and none of our time living. I haven't played my guitar in too long and I hardly find the time or sanity to write or read. I haven't even picked up my cameras in a while. It is discouraging. We have to tell our friends and family that we are staying with people because no one would stand for us to sleep in the car, but we don't feel good about imposing so we kind of prefer our own space. Nothing about another person's house feels comfortable except the bed and the bathroom. The car may only have a makeshift bed and no room our safety or privacy etc etc etc BUT at least it is OUR tiny little space. People notice that we are sleeping and living out of the car. It is hard to hide, I suppose, with all of our belongings being moved into the front seat of the station wagon every night and the rag rug curtains being dropped in the back to conceal us as we climb in the back to change our clothes and sleep. We named the station wagon Abner. We are going to paint the perfectly good exterior with peace signs and poetry and other art that comes to mind.
We run out of money quickly after a payday, because we have no place to cook and we are usually to hungry to have the patience to try to use our camp stove. This leaves us to eat out, and cheaply I might add, but it becomes expensive quickly, and with gas being just under $3 per gallon, we don't drive far, either. We use public restrooms in various places and brush our teeth at giant eagle most nights and caribou or the school most mornings. It is awkward trying to do regular things in public that people do at home without drawing notice from others.
I think that we were doing okay and were starting to settle into a routine, getting as comfortable as two could get living in a station wagon. As luck would have it, however, the "safe place" that we have been parking- right near our 'ex-apartment'- is no longer a place that we feel safe parking. Two days ago a man approached us with a hand in his pocket while I was adding transmission fluid to Abner. He began asking us curious questions and noting how much stuff we had in the back of the car. Sitting in the drivers seat, Amber became suspicious and dialed 911 on her cell phone but did not hit send. She held the phone to her ear. The man began to tell me that he used to be a burglar for 25 years. He then began to ramble about going to prison, then to college, then getting several degrees including a PhD. and passing the bar to become a lawyer in Ohio. Finally he told us to have a nice life and wandered away. We watched as he stopped halfway up the street to tease someone's dog who he did not know until the dog barked and he hid around the corner. We felt that he may have had a knife or gun in his pocket but he did not act because he saw Amber on the phone. A friend of ours was robbed a few months back by a man who acted in the same manner. Where will we park now?
Directly after the incident with the shady man, we drove up to a target in a nicer part of town. We had only some loose change and no gas and we were hungry. We also thought we could find a nicer street in that area to park for the night. As we pulled into the parking lot of target I noticed a silver Mercedes kind of cut us off. I then watched as the man driving it circled the lot for a close space and pulled into a handicapped spot. There were other spots not far away, so it was deliberate. He then proceeded to jog from the car into the store. His girlfriend sat in the car. Amber and I were kind of pissed, so we checked the car out for a handicapped sticker or at least one of those things that hangs from the mirror, both of which the car lacked. Amber then whipped out a notebook and wrote down the license number and we parked the car around the other side. We walked over and stood DIRECTLY in front of the car, read the handicapped sign that said $250 fine for violating and we headed into the store to go to customer service. We (especially Amber) had had enough of this crap. Before we even got to the counter I saw the girl was behind the wheel and moving that car- in a hurry! I pointed this out and we walked back out to see what was up. The girl was now driving in circles in the over sized lot and as she went by Amber held up the paper containing the license number. The girl noticed and shouted something back as she rolled by. We proceeded to walk on the sidewalk against the store and chat for about a minute when the car came buzzing by this time with the young man driving again and he spit at us and laughed a pretty forced fake laugh for our benefit. Lucky for him he didn't spit anywhere near us and probably got more on the outside of his car than he even did on the ground. The car came back around and he yelled obscenities at Amber that were pretty boyish almost to the point of amusement: "You're a cunt! You stupid cunt! Whore!" ... and so forth... and then he drove away. What a loser! Big man in a Mercedes parks in a handicapped spot (deliberately) then when his girlfriend is scared in to moving the car, he tries to spit on a girl and curse her out. Hope he sleeps well. Both of them actually.
So anyways, to sat the least we felt pretty unwelcome in the 'bad' as well as 'good' areas of town and so we funneled the last of our quarters into the gas tank and headed out to my sisters house where we slept that night and the next. We then came to Mansfield to see Amber's cousin Jeff who is home for a week or so from the military. We took him into town and he told us his stories about the war and about the army. We were a bit worried that he might be a little spiteful toward us for being anti-war hippie-types, but he seemed pretty comforted by our presence and our willingness to listen to his bitter news. We don't just sweep his pain under the rug and tell him all that "buck up and do your duty-believe in what you are doing" crap everyone else does. We really listen to him. He probably wouldn't admit it, but I think he appreciates that from us.
We have stayed last night and tonight at my mom's house. After a week of hellish despair and a sense of loneliness created by the complete lack of calls we received (except for Erica and my Aunt Flo, who is the biggest sweetheart by the way) wishing us a happy anniversary, we stayed to work on our van and relax. We also came to find out that Amber's parents couldn't call us because their only phone ran out of minutes, but they did not forget, in fact upon a really pleasant visit, it was the first thing mentioned: "How was your anniversary!?" As it turns out, MY parents and grandma didn't forget either. They had gotten us some presents and wanted to surprise us with them because they knew we would be up this weekend. We got a gift card to Bob Evans, a camping lantern, some chocolate, and some money, which we quickly spent on a Bob Dylan live collection cd and some of those wood-beaded seat covers to go in our van. We felt a little sheepish for doubting everyone but more relieved that they all liked us and remembered us.
We also spent the entire day vacuuming and scrubbing the van - inside and out. We found that the rust streaks on the outside rub off with a wet rag and some scrubbing. Cleaning up the van listening to live recording of Bob Dylan was about the best feeling we could have experienced until later when it got dark and we had a fire in an old potbelly stove and continued the music, roasting marshmallows and making smores while the dogs ran about the yard and played. My parents and my grandma sat on a bench further back and mused at the dogs mostly but Amber and I sat right in front of the fire and just absorbed the energy of the moment completely.
Finally, I got in the mindset to write, and it's late, but I couldn't be more contented than to have this level of sanity and calmness. I feel refreshed, and although I'm not sure either of wants to go back into the storm-like-disaster of homelessness that awaits us in Columbus, I do feel that this weekend was an important retreat and step back from it. I must be off to bed now, which tonight is in an actual bed. Good night, whoever.
So as it turns out Amber and I have been homeless now for a month to the day. We've been sleeping in the station wagon for about 2 weeks now. Things are getting rougher. When you live in the city, and I don't mean in an apartment in the city, I mean actually IN the city, you see everything. You feel everything. You witness extraordinarily beautiful moments in peoples' lives, and some of the most unimaginable ugliness. You hear people getting home late at night looking for a place to park. When it gets cold at night, you get cold. When the sun
claims morning and begins heating the car, you get hot. When it rains, you get wet because its still too hot to close all of the windows. The gusting wind commands your very bed to sway and every conversation walking by in the night awakens you. When you live on the street you become like a part of the city. You become a little more permanent and you are more of a fixture than a person in the places you frequent. This allows you to see things the way trees and sidewalks and buildings and gods do instead of the way a person would when speeding by and peering out tinted windows.We haven't felt like ourselves in a long time, I think. We have been spending all of our time surviving and none of our time living. I haven't played my guitar in too long and I hardly find the time or sanity to write or read. I haven't even picked up my cameras in a while. It is discouraging. We have to tell our friends and family that we are staying with people because no one would stand for us to sleep in the car, but we don't feel good about imposing so we kind of prefer our own space. Nothing about another person's house feels comfortable except the bed and the bathroom. The car may only have a makeshift bed and no room our safety or privacy etc etc etc BUT at least it is OUR tiny little space. People notice that we are sleeping and living out of the car. It is hard to hide, I suppose, with all of our belongings being moved into the front seat of the station wagon every night and the rag rug curtains being dropped in the back to conceal us as we climb in the back to change our clothes and sleep. We named the station wagon Abner. We are going to paint the perfectly good exterior with peace signs and poetry and other art that comes to mind.
We run out of money quickly after a payday, because we have no place to cook and we are usually to hungry to have the patience to try to use our camp stove. This leaves us to eat out, and cheaply I might add, but it becomes expensive quickly, and with gas being just under $3 per gallon, we don't drive far, either. We use public restrooms in various places and brush our teeth at giant eagle most nights and caribou or the school most mornings. It is awkward trying to do regular things in public that people do at home without drawing notice from others.
I think that we were doing okay and were starting to settle into a routine, getting as comfortable as two could get living in a station wagon. As luck would have it, however, the "safe place" that we have been parking- right near our 'ex-apartment'- is no longer a place that we feel safe parking. Two days ago a man approached us with a hand in his pocket while I was adding transmission fluid to Abner. He began asking us curious questions and noting how much stuff we had in the back of the car. Sitting in the drivers seat, Amber became suspicious and dialed 911 on her cell phone but did not hit send. She held the phone to her ear. The man began to tell me that he used to be a burglar for 25 years. He then began to ramble about going to prison, then to college, then getting several degrees including a PhD. and passing the bar to become a lawyer in Ohio. Finally he told us to have a nice life and wandered away. We watched as he stopped halfway up the street to tease someone's dog who he did not know until the dog barked and he hid around the corner. We felt that he may have had a knife or gun in his pocket but he did not act because he saw Amber on the phone. A friend of ours was robbed a few months back by a man who acted in the same manner. Where will we park now?
Directly after the incident with the shady man, we drove up to a target in a nicer part of town. We had only some loose change and no gas and we were hungry. We also thought we could find a nicer street in that area to park for the night. As we pulled into the parking lot of target I noticed a silver Mercedes kind of cut us off. I then watched as the man driving it circled the lot for a close space and pulled into a handicapped spot. There were other spots not far away, so it was deliberate. He then proceeded to jog from the car into the store. His girlfriend sat in the car. Amber and I were kind of pissed, so we checked the car out for a handicapped sticker or at least one of those things that hangs from the mirror, both of which the car lacked. Amber then whipped out a notebook and wrote down the license number and we parked the car around the other side. We walked over and stood DIRECTLY in front of the car, read the handicapped sign that said $250 fine for violating and we headed into the store to go to customer service. We (especially Amber) had had enough of this crap. Before we even got to the counter I saw the girl was behind the wheel and moving that car- in a hurry! I pointed this out and we walked back out to see what was up. The girl was now driving in circles in the over sized lot and as she went by Amber held up the paper containing the license number. The girl noticed and shouted something back as she rolled by. We proceeded to walk on the sidewalk against the store and chat for about a minute when the car came buzzing by this time with the young man driving again and he spit at us and laughed a pretty forced fake laugh for our benefit. Lucky for him he didn't spit anywhere near us and probably got more on the outside of his car than he even did on the ground. The car came back around and he yelled obscenities at Amber that were pretty boyish almost to the point of amusement: "You're a cunt! You stupid cunt! Whore!" ... and so forth... and then he drove away. What a loser! Big man in a Mercedes parks in a handicapped spot (deliberately) then when his girlfriend is scared in to moving the car, he tries to spit on a girl and curse her out. Hope he sleeps well. Both of them actually.
So anyways, to sat the least we felt pretty unwelcome in the 'bad' as well as 'good' areas of town and so we funneled the last of our quarters into the gas tank and headed out to my sisters house where we slept that night and the next. We then came to Mansfield to see Amber's cousin Jeff who is home for a week or so from the military. We took him into town and he told us his stories about the war and about the army. We were a bit worried that he might be a little spiteful toward us for being anti-war hippie-types, but he seemed pretty comforted by our presence and our willingness to listen to his bitter news. We don't just sweep his pain under the rug and tell him all that "buck up and do your duty-believe in what you are doing" crap everyone else does. We really listen to him. He probably wouldn't admit it, but I think he appreciates that from us.
We have stayed last night and tonight at my mom's house. After a week of hellish despair and a sense of loneliness created by the complete lack of calls we received (except for Erica and my Aunt Flo, who is the biggest sweetheart by the way) wishing us a happy anniversary, we stayed to work on our van and relax. We also came to find out that Amber's parents couldn't call us because their only phone ran out of minutes, but they did not forget, in fact upon a really pleasant visit, it was the first thing mentioned: "How was your anniversary!?" As it turns out, MY parents and grandma didn't forget either. They had gotten us some presents and wanted to surprise us with them because they knew we would be up this weekend. We got a gift card to Bob Evans, a camping lantern, some chocolate, and some money, which we quickly spent on a Bob Dylan live collection cd and some of those wood-beaded seat covers to go in our van. We felt a little sheepish for doubting everyone but more relieved that they all liked us and remembered us.
We also spent the entire day vacuuming and scrubbing the van - inside and out. We found that the rust streaks on the outside rub off with a wet rag and some scrubbing. Cleaning up the van listening to live recording of Bob Dylan was about the best feeling we could have experienced until later when it got dark and we had a fire in an old potbelly stove and continued the music, roasting marshmallows and making smores while the dogs ran about the yard and played. My parents and my grandma sat on a bench further back and mused at the dogs mostly but Amber and I sat right in front of the fire and just absorbed the energy of the moment completely.
Finally, I got in the mindset to write, and it's late, but I couldn't be more contented than to have this level of sanity and calmness. I feel refreshed, and although I'm not sure either of wants to go back into the storm-like-disaster of homelessness that awaits us in Columbus, I do feel that this weekend was an important retreat and step back from it. I must be off to bed now, which tonight is in an actual bed. Good night, whoever.
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