June 7, 2011

Sorry for the delayed post.  I've found it tough to settle into a routine.  Expect sporadic posting.  The song of the day today is "Trouble Weighs a Ton" by Dan Auerbach.

At dinner on Saturday, I sit with the man who is a recovering alcoholic.  He caught me when I walked in and asked me some questions about my backpack so I feel like we've established a connection based on our mutual disdain for carrying things and I sit next to him.  I've decided to call him Chuck.  Another man who I cleaned the kitchen with one morning is at the table.  He's a middle aged man who is tall and skinny and has a push broom mustache that covers his top lip and looks like a Ron.  Ron is a recent victim of The Doctor's onslaughts of nonsensical verbiage, but he did manage to get some words in while The Doctor caught his breath one morning.  He said that he was laid off recently, but is only waiting on a background check before he is hired by another employer.  He speaks slow and is unassuming and I feel confident that he will pass the background check.  Now, he is telling Chuck about his laptop.  He says that he has rented some movies from the library.  He lists the titles of them and Pirates of the Caribbean is the only one that Chuck has not seen.  They make plans to watch the movie together on Sunday afternoon, and Ron is going to try and find some external speakers at Goodwill so that they will be able to hear.  One thing I have learned is that the homeless are both bored and sometimes hopeless.  Every little thing is looked forward to.  I believe this is why so many of them smoke.

I arrived at Tent City after the basketball game on Sunday night.  I am both relieved and disappointed that I did not get/have to watch the game with Blackie.  I wonder if I will see the people that are staying at the Salvation Army again.  Some people that I stayed there with talked about moving out to Tent City, but the talk mostly came when we experienced adverse conditions at the hands of the Salvation Army like when cereal was served for too many consecutive days.  Wendell had gotten pretty peeved when he heard the news that a hot breakfast would not be served.  He threatened aloud to us behind the locked door that he would get himself a tent if the conditions did not improve.  I think it was just a bit of caged tiger syndrome as he cooled off when the door was unlocked for breakfast.  I haven't seen Wendell around recently but I imagine he is still at the Salvation Army.  The rule at the facility is that a resident can stay a maximum of 3 consecutive days in a 90 day span unless they have work or are looking for work in good faith.  Wendell has a mysterious family member who is hiring him about 3 times a week so he is allowed to stay.  I would guess that about half of the residents who were there with me were long term.  I hope I run into them soon.

Last night, I got pulled over by a police officer in a car.  One thing I've noticed is that homeless people get called "buddy" when they are about to be inconvenienced.  "Move it along, buddy."  "No backpacks in here, buddy."  "Hey buddy, you can't sleep here."  The cop steps out of his cruiser and says "Hey buddy, where ya headed?"  I tell him that I'm going out to Tent City and he asks if that's where I live.  He tells me that I need a reflector on the back of my bike along with a light on the front.  He takes my driver's license and calls me in.  When my report comes back clean he tells me to be safe and that I can just buy a flashlight and tape it on the front of my bike.  It will be much cheaper than a proper bicycle light.  I was not expecting him to be as nice and polite as he is.

I arrive at Tent City at about 9:45.  After dark, the Administration Building is sort of taken over by the younger citizens of Tent City.  There are about eight residents who are under the age of twenty five.  They introduced themselves to me yesterday when I was entering the gates of Tent City.  They said they were on their way out to smoke some weed.  On this night, I guess there will be no getting high.  I walk into the Administration building to heat up my dinner (beefaroni) and a big group of the younger generation are loitering about noisily.  A couple of them are already eating dinner and it appears the rest are going to be having dinner together as one guy is cooking a large quantity of spaghetti in a skillet on a hot plate.  The spaghetti consists of Ramen Noodles coated in tomato sauce with green beans.  The group is having a conversation about their parents.  There is a girl among them, and she is the only one who knew her dad.  One guy, Cody, says that he would punch his dad in the face if he ever knew who he was.  Cody is one of those people that you can tell by looking at him that there's not much going on upstairs.  He's got a blank look on his face at all times and cannot talk about one thing for long.  Right now he's sitting on the floor shoveling a noodle and bean mixture into his mouth while he berates his unknown father.  Cody makes eye contact with me and, without provocation, tells me that he had eleven months left on his probation somewhere in Kansas when he moved to Lubbock.  He's got a mouth full of his dinner, and I find it hard to look at him when he speaks.  "The ho town's gone now" he says.  "F4 tornado took it out.  Courthouse and everthing."  Cody seems to believe that this has solved all of his problems, and I decide that I will encourage him to return to Kansas at some point.  Cody shifts gears and tells me that the attacks on September 11 were planned by George W. Bush and he can prove it.  He says that a friend of his is in possession of the "black tapes" that were on the airplanes used in the attacks.  "No terrorist groups on board.  When the people on that one plane found out, they stopped it.  I'dda done the same thing."  I try to picture Cody on Flight 93 foiling the terrorists' scheme and saving the day.  I can't do it.  I stick around for a few minutes and another person in the group plays some music on his cell phone.  It's some rap song that I don't think I have ever heard, but they all seem to like it.  Cody is finished with his dinner and begins to sing along.  One of the lines says something about being "legit."  Cody really seems to like this line as he raises his voice as he sings it so I decide not to burst his bubble and point out the irony in his singing of it.  It stinks in here so I eat my dinner elsewhere.