Dec 6 2012
Usually by now I am head long into being an emotional wreck, fighting the daily urge to jump in front of a bus, as the section of the world who hasn’t made life crippling decisions mocks those of us who have, by enjoying the fruits of their inability to live life beyond the level of mediocrity( i.e. they haven’t made stupid decisions).
…yeash, that sentence was a mess. It’s one of those lines you type and you can’t decide whether it is genius or just pretentious, or where the comma should go…Doesn’t matter. The thing is, I went through an emotional wringer last month and just don’t have the time or energy to feel any pain, regret, or jealousy this holiday season. I kinda miss it. Who woulda thought I would look fondly on the days when I had nothing better to do during the holidays than talk myself out of suicide. This year I am just going to leave a -post it- note on my gun. “don’t kill yourself…I’ll explain later”.
Maybe that’s the key…staying busy. Of course, it can’t just be “busy work” or your subconscious will let depression supercede whatever crossword puzzle you are doing or closet you are re organizing. You have to make some kind of commitment or have something to do that actually has to get done. I for example am going to be drawing, autographing, and sketching until my fingers are numb. I don’t recommend that…it’s great for the ego but terrible for the joints. Every so often I volunteer at a homeless shelter. It is not as bad as it sounds, and it takes your mind off your problems. It’s not hard work either. Usually you are there washing dishes or basically just scooping mashed potatoes onto a plate. It’s like you are a lunch lady for grown ups. Grown ups with no home…or soap, or nail clippers. The patrons of these shelters aren’t the romanticized versions of the homeless….hobos with top hats that are torn and gloves with no fingers and a cigar with a toothpick through it, or even the holly wood version with seven layers of clothes and a shopping cart full of eclectic items. “Eclectic” now that is a pretentious word. As soon as I hear someone say “eclectic” I know I don’t like them. It’s something you hear on NPR and repeat because it makes people think you listen to NPR.
Anyways…they are more like the people you see get arrested on “cops” except fatter. Only inWisconsincan people manage to live on the street and still not fit on a standard sized cot. They all seem to know each other too, which is strange. I assume they all live under the same over pass or meet up at the recycling center. They are a chatty bunch and more than willing to jack jaw with each other while you stand there with a hair net and a scoop of mashed potatoes trying to put the potatoes onto their plate as they inadvertently move it back and forth because they are only half paying attention because they are so enthralled with the story about the stray cat who sprayed some other disgusting homeless piece of filth..shame on me…anyhow it’s like some kind or carnival claw game, you trying to get the potatoes onto a plate that keep moving around for the homeless degenerate in the middle of the line who is not enthralled with the story and is fondling a shiv and really seems to want the line to keep moving.
Having done my share of serving food to disgusting pieces of homeless filth I can honesty say…maybe they didn’t deserve to end up homeless , but they sure deserve to be homeless. They are sort of like vegitarians…they won’t shut up about how great it is to be homeless. How they have no bills and no stress and so on…Maybe it’s just for show and they are actually embarrassed and trying to put on a good front. I have no idea… There are some who break your heart just looking them in the eye…like you can see the crumbling of their life and a decades worth of wrong turns all in one glint. You see all the shame and regret and pain all at once and honestly you want to give them a hug and tell them everything will be okay…right after someone scrubs them from head to toe with an sos pad. I think we should start being pragmatic with these people. They don’t need a free dinner, they steal food, they eat out of dumpsters…they eat with the money they beg…no one ever forgets to eat. What they need are showers. Hot showers, and a free laundry service. I mean…what is the point here? Are we just trying to keep them alive for the sake of not feeding worms or are we hoping they will get back on their feet? Because if it is the latter than they need to be clean and not look homeless even if they are.
Working at a shelter does change your mind about suicide. There are allot of people out there who have it allot worse. People who for one reason or another have been reduced to living like stray dogs, people who don’t have the luxury of worrying about who does or does not love them or how stressful their job is…and many make money on the side by donating blood….keep that in mind when the pistol is in your mouth, if you don’t die you’re going to bleed allot and need a transfusion, and your sure as hell don’t want any of the blood from those assholes running through your veins. Some guy who’s teeth look like a row of indian corn made 20.00 donating the plasma that would be running through your system and the only reason it didn’t get put in quarantine is because he’s got viruses we ain’t even heard of yet. I read a story a while back about some deranged homeless guy stabbing a bicyclist in the park…the cyclist probably had to get a transfusion. He could have been stabbed and then saved with the blood from the guy who stabbed him, it’s the circle of life.
…I was planning on just doing a blog about staying busy and then letting you print these off and color them, but I trailed off. You can still do that though if you’d like .
or go back to our holiday bomb shelter here
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