Thursday

Woke this morning to a darkened cave, moisture dripping from the walls. I reached up with my left hand to search for one of my lighters on the makeshift shelf I created just a couple days ago. Once found, I lit one of the four candles we had in the cave, three of which were lifted from the local Safeway.

The cave smelled dank, as Chris would say. I quickly lit the other three candles. There was Chris, sleeping, just inches from me, under a pile of blankets. I reached for one of the many snipes arrayed on the shelf that ran along the length of my body, about a foot and a half above my head.

My first breath of tobacco is my first breath of life in the morning. It's what gets me going and what motivates my day. I'm not saying that I live for cigs, but I spend a lot of my day looking for snipes or buming smokes. I'm saying that niccotine is a cool drug, and for now it gets me through the day and the night too.

I left Chris sleeping in the cave and took a bus to the MAX platform. From there I rode the train into Portland, where I caught another bus to NE Ainsworth. That's where the Day Center is, a place where HIV possitive people can: eat, relax, take a shower, do laundry, use the phone, pick-up mail, access the internet, play pool or foos-ball, watch t.v. and get a free montly bus pass.

I ran into Ricky at the Day Center, and I knew he had weed. I had been rude to him the first time he tried to introduce himself only to learn later what a cool guy he is. I showed him my little cigarette shaped one-hitter that Brandon gave me just the day before. I asked if he had a nug for my hitter and he said sure he'd go out and smoke with me.

Ricky lead me out into the alley and down a side alley to a little nook where a tall fir tree grows on a mound of dirt. He dropped his bag down and I sat mine next to his, near the fence. Then he unzipped one of the pockets in his backpack and removed a black tin. It was an old tea-tin, with artwork on it. The egdes were rubbed clean of paint in the places where hands had lifted the lid and reclosed it countless times.

Ricky opened the tin to reveal about a quarter ounce of weed. Green, stinky bud danded across a silver floor, as he shifted all of it from one side to the other and then held it in place so all the bud fell together in a pile at one corner.

He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a glasss pipe. It was all one color, smokey brown, and not like other pot pipes I'm uses to seeing. It looked more like a tobacco pipe with a long narrow, tappering stem and a large, perfectly shaped bowl.

He packed that thing full and we smoked three of those large bowls together. Ricky began to tell me his story. He's a small guy, probably four-eight or four-nine. He has coa-coa tan skin and small beady eyes. He has a way about him that is at once endearing and offputting at the same time. He's very flambouant and flirtatious and also very gentle and kind.

It's his kindness that won me over. He opened up his life to me the way an art collector shows off his prized posessions. There was: the time he ran away from home when he was only nine years old; the many lovers and the four partners who all left him pennyless. He talked and packed bowls. We both smoked, and I mostly listened.

When we were finished smoking, he gave me some to take back to Chris, and then we went back inside the Day Center and played a short game of foos-ball. The table was old, and one of the foos-ball players was pretty chopped up, but we played like we were two teenagers, just hanging out in my parents garage. It was a blast.

Later, on my way home, I stopped at the Tri-Met office in Pioneer Square to use the bathroom. On my way out I ran into Zaza, an old friend from the days of my early HIV diagnosis. Zaza and I hung out for a while in an adgacent park, smoked a little weed, and I got introduced to his new companion pet, Lucie. I enjoyed petting her smooth coat. It made me feel a little closer to Lexi and Max. Zaza gave me a little money and his phone number.

When I got back to the cave, Chris was there waiting for me. He was beaming that I brought him some nugs to smoke. I was pleased with the small acts of love I had experienced, from Zaza and my new friend Ricky. It was a day of magic... no, it was a day of love.

The big move

Last week, the winter shelter I was staying at closed, and about six of us guys packed a bunch of tents and equipment out to a swampland in Forest Grove. I set out with a couple guys Tuesday night, cuz I wanted to get a head start on setting up camp. It felt like a new adventure after spending the last two months lining up for everything at the shelter and being told when to eat and when to go to bed and when to leave in the morning. FREEDOM was on my mind, and boy did I feel free.

I was wet too, wet and loaded down with gear. I was with Dan (the caramel man) and Chris (sunshine). Dan is a couple years older than me, but looks at least 15 years older. His back is all screwed up and he required help with his pack.

Chris is 24 years old, but he acts like a teenager, all depressed and mopey all the time. Chris is a good guy, he's loyal to those who are loyal to him, but you can't wait for him to do anything. The only time he shows any initiative is when his immediate comfort is being challenged, and then he just might bark at whoever is telling him to pitch in. He is having trouble adjusting to his homelessness, but hell, we all have trouble with that.

Dan's a medical marijuana guy who makes pot caramels that he was handing out at the shelter. Dan was a lot of fun to hang with at the shelter, cuz he always had pot. So, at least you could get stoned. I had my best night's sleep at the shelter after Dan smoked me out on my birthday. Dan kinda knitted Chris and I together; we both were hanging out and getting stoned with Dan.

This was the crew I went out to the swamp with. There were a few other guys who came out there and camped too, but we hardly ever saw them. They were tweekers and we were pot smokers. It's funny but on the street you can kinda sort people by the drugs they do. Most street people smoke cigs, but not as many are outright drunks as you might think. Most smoke pot, but not everyone. Tweek is such a crazy drug that tweekers usually stay with their own, while the pot smokers and drinkers hang pretty good with most people.

Well, we were out there working our asses off getting our camp set up and even hauling in bags of gravel from the train tracks to prep the ground for a new site in another part of the swamp that would get us onto dryer ground. We had just finished a day of hard work hauling rock, when a voice was heard calling out in the swamp. It wasn't a voice any of us recognized, so Dan went out to see what was up.

Dan cam back and told me that the owner of the land we were on had come out to do some target shooting, and discovered our camp. He said we had to get all our shit out of there that night. All of our heads were spinning. We quickly went back to our tent sites and gathered up what we could carry. Dan was trying to get the rest of us to help him with his gear, which he a had plenty of after days of constantly bringing stuff in. Chris looked confused and I was asking Dan what the plan would be for all of us after this. Dan said that it was all over and we were on our own. He offered a bowl of weed in exchange for helping him get his crap out of camp, and I saw that as a dead end.

I didn't want to spend a bunch of time assisting Dan, who could stay with his sister if he needed to, only to end up stuck with no where to sleep for the night. So, I told Chris to grab his stuff and get it out to the tracks and that I would meet him out there. Chris and I took off down the tracks and didn't look back.Chris was pretty fed up with Dan at that point. Dan had been barking orders to everyone, but Chris took it personal telling everyone that he didn't like being told what to do.

I led Chris out to Beaverton where my friend Travis camps. I thought maybe Travis would put Chris and I up in his tent for the night. On the train, I found a complete pack of smokes that someone had dropped, so we had smokes for the night. While we were waiting for Chris' phone to charge a little on the MAX platform, Chris managed to get hold of his buddy Larry who just happened to be staying at the local Motel 6 one stop up the tracks from where we were. We hooked up with Larry and his girl Carlie who were both drunk and wrestling all over the room, but we got showers and a bed.

The next morning Larry led us out to his campsite under a bridge off of T.V. Highway. That's where we are now, Larry, Chris and myself. We'll see how this goes.

Mush Brain

The weather's been cold the past few days. Today I woke to snow outside on the ground. It was a couple inches thick and blowing down in big drifts.

Heather, the lady who runs the SOS shelter came to me this morning and asked what kind of tent I wanted. They're closing the shelter on Monday, and I've been bugging her for a tent. She said they had all different sizes and shapes. I told her I just need a simple two-man, small and light, easy for me to cary and I don't really keep very much stuff anyway. She also said that she would get me a good sleeping bag that I could take with me.

Yesterday was my birthday, and they decorated the tables at the shelter for me. They had a banner that read "Happy Birthday" all the way down it, and I got to go first in the food line. It wasn't bad, felt nice the way everyone played along wishing me a Happy Birthday. And it wasn't too much birthday-attention. My new buddy, Dan got me stoned on a couple joints and some pot carmel that he makes. I just sat there and watched everyone around me, while waiting for bedtime.

Today, nothing is open. I went to the Day Center and it was closed for the day. CAP is closed also. I was able to refill my anti-depresant. That was good, but basicly today is a bust. I checked in with the Health Share program and that lady is out for the day. I left her a note so that she knows I came by, in case there's an opening she's trying to fill.

I found $6 on the ground on a MAX platform. That was cool. I was able to buy a fresh pack of smokes and a lighter. I have no idea how long it's been since my last FRESH pack of smokes, but I was hoping someone would buy me a pack for my birthday and they didn't. So, this was like a birthday gift from God... and the person who dropped the money. Thanks, where ever you are.

I came to the Beaverton library to use the computer. First I sat outside and smoked a cigarette. I just sat there on a park bench, smoking and staring off into space. I notice that my mind has become numb. I'm not sure when it happened, but I have actually achieved a state of complete mindlessness. I travel through my day, mostly biding time and trying to stay warm and dry. It's amazing how mindless that can be. I catch sleep where ever I can, and sit very still most of the time, just mindlessly navigating the day.

I Thank God

I was waiting in line by the glass doors of the church last night, when a dog showed up. It was a pit bull the size of Lexi, but this one had a slightly shorter nose. It was brindle colored all over, and it came right up to the front door and looked in the glass.

I asked the guy nearest the dog if it was his, and he said no it wasn't. Then I watched as the dog made it's way to a group behind us. I asked if any of them owned the dog, and they didn't know who it belonged to. Then Jeremy stepped forward and pointed across the overhang area and told me that the dog belonged to "that lady over there."

I knelt down and the dog came right to me. I petted her face and body as people commented all around on the pup. I herd one voice say it was a male. I didn't think so, and as I looked at her hind end she was confirmed to me as a female.

My heart jumped for a slight second, but my hands just reached out and rubbed the girl down on the sides of her body, the way I used to do for Lexi. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway. I poured out my love for Lexi on that dog, and it felt good. For a short moment in my day, yesterday, Lexi and I were together again.

The dog's name was Brini (short for brindle), she was staying in a minivan in the parking lot. I got Brini some water and said goodnight to her. When I went to sleep, I thanked God for the kind miracle he performed on my behalf. Thank you, Lord.

Sunday was nice. I spent the day with Jeremy. He's the same age as me, and he let me tag along while he checked out a campsite. He showed me some places in Forest Grove where I can camp if I need to. 

The cool thing was all the extras. He not only showed me camp sites, but also: a cool place to find about $20 worth of cans every Wednesday; a special wall I can leave messages for him on; and he introduced me to a couple of his friends. 

Making friends on the street has proven invaluable to me. The service agencies are great for getting into programs that will supply food and shelter long term, but street people are amazing in their willingness to help each other survive. 

The first thing I learned about street peeps is that they can only show you what and who they know. So it pays to pay attention to the homeless among me seem to be keeping it together best. They are always the ones who know the most number of people and have the biggest number of secret blessings they can clue me into. 

They tell me who the people are at the different agencies that are best to work with. They tell me which cops will be cool and which ones will be hard-ass. They've shown me where to camp or what door is cool to sleep in, and they've even let me in on the best places to find snipes (cigarette butts that have some length left on them).

Lately, I've been getting a lot of marijuana blessings. People have been sharing their pot with me, and it helps me to sleep. It's also a nice mental vacation when I have time to kill before getting into the shelter for the night. There are a lot of drugs on the street, but I have to say that Pot is truly a blessing to those of us who use it.

On Friday, I was told that my name came up on one of the housing lists I am on. That's when I found out that I need a copy of my birth certificate.  That is all I'm waiting on right now in order to complete the process for getting into an apartment. 

I know that I am no more than one month away from being off the streets, and that knowledge gives me a sense of peace. I am able to walk a little slower and to handle stress a little better, simply because I can see the end of this thing not too far down the rode. 

Once again, I am missing my pit bull, Lexi. I carved her name into a tree in the swam/camp that Jeremy showed me, yesterday.He led me to a wash in a flood plane that is overgrown with low lying trees and moss. There is moss all over everything. He calls the place "ewok forest". I felt honored to be given a tour of a the place. 

When a homeless person takes you to their camp, they are making themselves vulnerable and unless they're a complete fool, they only bring people to their campsite that they trust. So fare  I've been taken to two campsites and invited to stay at both. There's a third campsite I've been invited to, but I haven't had time to check it out yet. 

I think, at least 'till my housing comes in, I will be camping in a tent when the SOS shelter closed at the end of this month.

Saturday

Saturday is always hard. There's very little for me to do. All the service agencies I deal with are closed and I have to occupy my time from 7 in the morning until evening church begins at 6pm.

Yesterday, I found some pictures of Lexi online @ my old flickr account. I had tried to access it earlier but could not remember the password. I thought that my ex had gone in and erased it but was very happy when I discovered it was still there.

I took over two-thousand pictures while I was with Ritchie, and only a small fraction of them are posted to flickr. But those few pics are of great value to me today. They represent a reclaiming of my past. It's very strange to look at the photos of our trip to Seaside last year. It was at this time that we went there with Lexi, and I had no clue that my world would be so different just one year later.

I still think of Lexi every single day, but my thoughts of her don't sting quite as much. It's as if the memories are finding there way to a deeper place in me, and I am allowing myself to smile at some of them.

I walked past the Trader Joe's near the motel that Lexi and I spent over two weeks at. There are some tall ornamental grasses out front, near the sidewalk that Lexi loved to wander through and brush against as we would pass by. They've recently chopped all the grasses down to small mounds. Something I'm sure they do every year at this time in preparation for Spring. I was able to smile as I visualized Lexi's wagging tail following her through the grass as I tried to keep her from tangling the long leash that she had.

She is a truly an amazing dog, and I've never felt so strongly about a pet. Sometimes I wonder if a big part of my bond with her is simply the things she and I went through together. And then I think: No, she really was the best dog I ever had, regardless of the circumstances. I send a prayer of love to her every day. When I get to the point where I think I'm getting too depressed over losing her, I simply send a prayer of love and look forward to a day when I will see her in heaven.

2/10/11

Today, I'm a little bit closer to getting into housing. I've had several meetings this week with different people in order to get onto the wait-list for a program called "Shelter Plus". It's a HUD supported program that will pay for my housing while I continue on the wait list for Section 8, wich is another HUD program that will pay for my housing for as long as I need it.


"Shelter Plus" is designed for homeless people with disabilities, to assist them in getting off the streets. It's because of my HIV status that I am qualifying for this.


I miss Lexi (my pitbul) today. Truth is, I miss her every day. I feel like I failed or let down a very important family member by not being able to keep her with me. The idea that I will never get her back hurts deeply. I can't remember having that sense of bond with any human in recent years. I don't even give my ex-partner a second thought. He's just another jerk who abused me and treated me like an object that he could toss out.


I knew for a couple months that I was going to have to break up with him at some point. Ever since I started having panick attacks while I was with him, something that never happened before in my entire life, I knew that I was with a really sick person who was mentally torturing me. The thing about my ex is that he started lying to me from the day I met him, and the lies never stoped. I fully expect that he is lying his way through his day today, and that he has told many lies about me to many people. That's just what he does. It's very much a part of who he is, and I don't expect any different. So, how can I feel any loss or remorse from that relationship. I allready grieved the loss of any real connection with him long ago.


Lexi, on the other hand is and was pure love and adoration. She didn't have the ability to lie or be lied to. If I was having a bad day and tried to fake it for her, she always saw right through me. When everything was well with me, she would respond with a wagging tail and strut in her step. She just knew, and I just loved her for that. I hope and pray that she's with someone or a family that appreciates her for her amazing ability to sense human emotions and respond to them. Lexi would never allow me to get so angry that I would yell. If I raised my voice around her she would bark at me. If I cried, she would lick my face, and if I smiled, she would wag her tail. That's just the kind of girl she is.


Bless you my sweet little girl, where ever you are. Your daddy loves you very much.