I heard it rains harder in San Bernardino than in any other part of Southern California. Found that to be true yesterday. My shoes and socks were soaked.
The soup kitchen there is filled with homeless families, families with homes and little money, loners, alot of women beaten by their spouses and some elderly too.
Seeing the children there is toughest. Especially those who are new to the shelter. They all look so hopeless.
****
I got drenched on my way from the bus stop to shelter in Colton today too. It rained like a muthafucka.
The Colton shelter makes for Mexican food. I'll help make tamales on Wednesday for Christmas Eve and Day. I might also help make tamales for New Years Day. It's traditional I guess. I don't mind. I love making tamales.
A few days ago we were passing out flyers in the areas of Colton where the homeless gather. I gave one to some white guys in their late 20s. One had a southern accent, the other said he grew up local. They both were working at the same place and sharing an apartment when they were layed-off. They stayed in the apartment as long as they could, but neither could find steady work, although both had jobs for a few days here and there.
They reminded me of Nick and myself. Nick was a buddy I grew up with in Yotba Linda. In our twenties we were living in my Honda Civic wagon, dealing and using cocaine. We'd score some cash and a big bag of blow and live it up in a hotel for a few days, then we'd be back in the car for a few weeks. We actually were having a blast most of the time. Really fun times, till we got sick of it.
We ended up driving away from Anaheim and looking for jobs in Placentia. We were both hired by Target. We'd bathe in an apartment complex swimming pool every night, and shave in the gas station bathroom.
One day I had to work later than Nick. He drove up as I was getting out the door of Target and said, "Let's go home".
"Oh no, I'm not going back to Anaheim and all that shit again."
He pulled up to an apartment complex (down the street from out bath) and pointed to an upstairs patio window.
"There's our place. $700 a month."
It was great. Two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen with a fridge... We were happy SOBs.
Guess I just miss those days.
Anyway, the guys in their @0s showed up at the shelter tonight and really brought the place some life. They were mingling as though it was a real party.
I cooked the main course tonight. Nine baked, stuffed chickens.
People were laughing and eating up. They were diving into the chicken and paying compliments to the chef.
So today was a great day to write about. Too late to even attempt to correct all the spelling errors.
I may never... will never have all the best, or even a little bit of the best, but I'll make the best with what I've got and have a decent day once every few months.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Why should I care?
The local bloodbank calls to make an appointment for me to donate. I made an appointment for this Monday.
I have to take the bus and two goddamn transfers to get there by 12:30.
Had no invitations for Thanksgiving. I went to the Hutton community center in Colton and helped cook Thanksgiving dinner for some homeless. Some people had homes, but couldn't afford a Thanksgiving dinner. I helped make the stuffing and was the only one in charge of making cranberrie sauce. Pretty simple, but I added oranges and walnuts (I bought myself) to the cranberries sugar and water. I thought it might not be what the people were used to after I made it, but they actually loved it. I got a ride from my mother to Colton, but had to take a bus and catch two more transfers to get home. Almost got hit by some asshole in a lowered mini-truck after I jumped off the last bus.
I still give canned goods to St. Christopher's. There the cans are given to the poor. Sometimes I donate dispoable diapers and formula or brand new baby bottles.
No one I've ever talked to gives a flying fuck about me. No one has ever offered me help. No one has ever given me anything. Ever. But I still give what I can. I give blood at a bloodbank. I give sweat over soup kitchen ranges and in dragging cans to a church. I give beers to Terry, the local drunk who lives behind CVS.
I'll never stop giving, no matter how much so-called liberals get me down. They'll never make a LINO out of me. They're as greedy and inclusive as your regular conservafuck in his little country club.
I have to take the bus and two goddamn transfers to get there by 12:30.
Had no invitations for Thanksgiving. I went to the Hutton community center in Colton and helped cook Thanksgiving dinner for some homeless. Some people had homes, but couldn't afford a Thanksgiving dinner. I helped make the stuffing and was the only one in charge of making cranberrie sauce. Pretty simple, but I added oranges and walnuts (I bought myself) to the cranberries sugar and water. I thought it might not be what the people were used to after I made it, but they actually loved it. I got a ride from my mother to Colton, but had to take a bus and catch two more transfers to get home. Almost got hit by some asshole in a lowered mini-truck after I jumped off the last bus.
I still give canned goods to St. Christopher's. There the cans are given to the poor. Sometimes I donate dispoable diapers and formula or brand new baby bottles.
No one I've ever talked to gives a flying fuck about me. No one has ever offered me help. No one has ever given me anything. Ever. But I still give what I can. I give blood at a bloodbank. I give sweat over soup kitchen ranges and in dragging cans to a church. I give beers to Terry, the local drunk who lives behind CVS.
I'll never stop giving, no matter how much so-called liberals get me down. They'll never make a LINO out of me. They're as greedy and inclusive as your regular conservafuck in his little country club.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Gallows humor is a temporary help
Laughing your way through difficult times is a good pain killer. Laughter has fewer side effects than opiates such as morphine and Vicodine. Laughter works best on pains that are psychological, rather than physical. Men who knowingly suffer from psychological pains will naturally suffer more, thanks to our free society.
Laughter is a great pain reliever. But like drugs, laughter loses it's power to ease pain.
Side effects:
Hope
Laughter
Smiling
A false notion that one has a future
Cold reality
The world is for pretenders.
The purest of heart are fodder for "liberals" and are three course dinners for "conservatives". Please note the quotation marks.
Wish I'd never known the power of humor. Now that I am so immune to the "drug", I feel emptiness. And it fucking hurts to feel you have no future. But nobody's ever given a rat's ass about a misfit, so I might as well be talking to a wall. That's what the world is made of: Walls. Walls that keep poeple like myself on the outside looking in. Sad people like me can't find our likenesses. We're programmed by the elitists; The high and mighty who program us to look down on our own kind, and ignore what is in our best interest.
There's nothing funny about that.
Laughter is a great pain reliever. But like drugs, laughter loses it's power to ease pain.
Side effects:
Hope
Laughter
Smiling
A false notion that one has a future
Cold reality
The world is for pretenders.
The purest of heart are fodder for "liberals" and are three course dinners for "conservatives". Please note the quotation marks.
Wish I'd never known the power of humor. Now that I am so immune to the "drug", I feel emptiness. And it fucking hurts to feel you have no future. But nobody's ever given a rat's ass about a misfit, so I might as well be talking to a wall. That's what the world is made of: Walls. Walls that keep poeple like myself on the outside looking in. Sad people like me can't find our likenesses. We're programmed by the elitists; The high and mighty who program us to look down on our own kind, and ignore what is in our best interest.
There's nothing funny about that.
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