Monday, June 04, 2018

lost stars

A spot of bother. For two days I attempted to acquire a bunk at that homeless shelter here in Tucson. No deal. Spent my time languishing around on a lonely Saturday. I at least rented a self-storage unit for my things. They will be safe.
Sunday morning I was more successful. Voice on the phone stated they indeed did have bunks and I needed to be at the shelter by 11am. Cool beans, I thought. Though I had paid for three nights at the shittiest hotel in Tucson, I grabbed my gear, called a cab, and checked out at 9:30. However, fate deemed to task me. When I arrived at the storage unit, it being a Sunday, the office was closed and wasn’t to open until 11am and to make matters worse, my pin did not open the gate. The taxi driver was patient as I frantically called the emergency number posted on the fence. The lady on the other line attempted to contact the manager, however he would not answer his phone. In near hysterics – at the thought of losing my spot at the shelter in lieu of time – I sent the cab away and waited.
In desperation, I called the shelter to inform them on what was going on and the voice graciously extended my intake until noon. I fumed in utter contempt in the searing morning heat as I waited and waited…and waited.
At length, a utility truck approached and opened the gate. I quickly scurried to my storage unit, dropped my suitcase and laptop inside only to have the dented door askew in such a way it would not allow my lock to shut properly. I lost it. After months of let downs and mischance, I lost my usual cool disposition and became a howling, raving lunatic. Cursing at the top of my lungs, my screams echoed out into an uncaring and hate filled town.
Some guy on the other side of the wall in a residence yelled, “Shut up!”
“Fuck you!!!” I roared.
I stomped toward the exit only to find that there was no way to open the gate from the inside. I began hollering and kicking the metal fence in frustration when a tenant drove up and opened the gate from the outside. She quickly drove past that hunched, crimson faced, sweat drenched madman who stood hyperventilating through gritted teeth and fist clenched at the entrance. Once outside, I called a cab with hopes to make it to my intake deadline. At that moment, the obese slob of a manager drove up and asked if there was anything wrong.
I truthfully hate displaying my emotions in public. Especially if uncontrolled anger and hostility. I simply muttered to him briefly what was up and stated that I’d return the following day to take care of the matter.
Long story short: I made my intake. Once again I am residing in this place filled with burnt-out tweekers, the babbling insane, and grey and ancient phantoms who lost hope decades ago. In matters of triviality, I was issued a top bunk. Not a problem, but it is literally a pain to climb since I took that fall up in Flagstaff. My knee gave out a throbbing, piercing ache by the end of the day.
On a lighter note, the caseworker I was issued offered me housing and a 90 stay. Yet, already I am setting my sights on other locals…other vistas…only this morning I was checking out plane fares from Tucson to Phnom Pehn…nobody out there got $410 laying around? Nah? Didn’t think so. Fuck it…I’ll do it myself…

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