Haven't talked much about the homosexuality around here. It pretty much feels like it's just me. Despite from fervent hopes from a tall, lanky dude with straight black hair and a white sweater. I'm trying to stay away from him. It's not exactly a secret that I'm gay, but it hasn't come up.
I'm not eager for it either. I mean, look, these guys are guys. One of the things I like about this place is that it is pretty country. On the other hand, that comes with some baggage, these are mostly good ol' boys.
Larry, my bunkmate, said that some women want to be sexually harassed. “Maybe if they carry around a giant billboard that says 'I want to be sexually harassed.'” I interjected. Of course, Larry is also courting a woman because he wants her money. Larry's been great to me, but he'd kind of a shitty person.
There's also a little bit of celebratory “yeah, I fucked her.” A lot of objectification. I've managed not to stumble across any porn, so small favors.
The thing I do when I end up in the company of--lets call them salt-of-the-earth folk--is that I try to stand out in some way before the gay thing comes up. Currently, I'm the guy that washes the hell out of the dishes.
That's great. I'd rather it go, “That guy who washes the hell out of the dishes is gay,” than “It turns out that gay guy does great dishes.”
It's a subtle difference that colors the way people look at me, and there will always be assholes who can't get past it, but generally speaking those shitbirds are only homophobes because of social pressures anyway. If you can get the majority on board, those guys usually aren't problems.
Unless they're the repressed guys.
The thing is, wow, Mr. White Sweater...like, I don't want to have sex with him, I just want to see the little smile he makes. You know the one, like right after a guy comes down off a good orgasm. That one. Anyway, there are like three other kinda hot dudes here too, but sadly it's all for naught and I just try to keep thinking pure thoughts.
Well, not that pure.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Robo Hobo Homo #015
Now they don't have “plenty” of food here, but there's enough. The helpings are big because meals are cooked never knowing who's going to show up. Enough is made for everyone, and there are leftovers, but never enough to reuse for a whole meal the next day. In the five days I've been here, two people have dropped off perishable foods here for us to enjoy. There's usually bread, peanut butter, and some fruit available in the dining area.
So there's a lot of food around and without wi-fi, a cheap means of getting around, or anything nearby to do, it's easy to just sit around and eat. The temptation is the worst after kitchen duty. The other thing about working late is that when I'm done, I'm in pain, I'm tired, and I'm mentally drained (yes, focusing on doing dishes so I can do them as quickly as I can is draining).
About that time, it's snack time. There's an actual snack time. It's an unhealthy meal served late at night and it's always really tempting.
Luckily, it's the only time that all of my roommates are out of the room, so I can do some light workouts. Because it's so hard to do laundry and because I don't have any decent clothes for it, it's still kinda hard to get workouts in.
I have walked a lot. I manage to stay busy when there's something to do. When there's nothing to do, I try to find something to do. Especially on the weekends though, when no one is hiring for anything, the hours stretch on. It's a very conscious effort to watch what I'm eating.
Whether it's fair or not, I have three advantages when it comes to interviews. They're not things that make me better than anyone I'm competing with; they're things that employers generally count as a virtue because people are shit. I'm a dude, I'm white, and I'm not bad looking.
As shitty as it is, I'm hanging onto that last one as much as I can here.
So there's a lot of food around and without wi-fi, a cheap means of getting around, or anything nearby to do, it's easy to just sit around and eat. The temptation is the worst after kitchen duty. The other thing about working late is that when I'm done, I'm in pain, I'm tired, and I'm mentally drained (yes, focusing on doing dishes so I can do them as quickly as I can is draining).
About that time, it's snack time. There's an actual snack time. It's an unhealthy meal served late at night and it's always really tempting.
Luckily, it's the only time that all of my roommates are out of the room, so I can do some light workouts. Because it's so hard to do laundry and because I don't have any decent clothes for it, it's still kinda hard to get workouts in.
I have walked a lot. I manage to stay busy when there's something to do. When there's nothing to do, I try to find something to do. Especially on the weekends though, when no one is hiring for anything, the hours stretch on. It's a very conscious effort to watch what I'm eating.
Whether it's fair or not, I have three advantages when it comes to interviews. They're not things that make me better than anyone I'm competing with; they're things that employers generally count as a virtue because people are shit. I'm a dude, I'm white, and I'm not bad looking.
As shitty as it is, I'm hanging onto that last one as much as I can here.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Robo Hobo Homo #014
I've been doing dishes after dinner since my second day here. Everyone staying at Purgatory Shelter signs up for a chore on Monday or Sunday, then they do that chore from Tuesday until the following Monday.
On Thursday night, the guy who signed up for washing the dishes after dinner on Monday wasn't able to do it anymore. I guess with a lot of guys coming and going, those things are bound to happen. I volunteered to help a guy named Nick out with them. He showed me the ropes and we did a bang-up job of it.
So the next day someone asked me to take over full-time on the dishes and I accepted. It's basically like a restaurant; scouring, washing, soaking, rinsing, drying, then putting up dishes for a full dining floor (plus pots, pans, serving trays, etc).
It takes its toll on my hands and my back, but the hardest part is keeping the kitchen secure. Germs can spread easily from the kitchen, so it's important to keep it clear of any unnecessary people who come in.
Folks still stroll in though. Most of them have a good reason. They keep a hot water pot, the garbage bags, and late meals back there. People need access to those things for the sake of keeping the shelter going and it makes sense for someone to jump in, get them, and jump back out again instead of not having them.
Other times, people just want to eat things that they aren't supposed to be eating. I even had the guy in charge of coordinating the kitchen come in just to play some music. If the people who are in charge of enforcing the rules aren't doing it, who will? As the guy doing chores in there, I'm the only one who has a right to be there, but then this isn't an environment where I can simply push back on principle. I mean, I could, but then I'd be climbing the mountain the next day.
I'm learning though and we'll see how well I can secure the perimeter tonight.
On Thursday night, the guy who signed up for washing the dishes after dinner on Monday wasn't able to do it anymore. I guess with a lot of guys coming and going, those things are bound to happen. I volunteered to help a guy named Nick out with them. He showed me the ropes and we did a bang-up job of it.
So the next day someone asked me to take over full-time on the dishes and I accepted. It's basically like a restaurant; scouring, washing, soaking, rinsing, drying, then putting up dishes for a full dining floor (plus pots, pans, serving trays, etc).
It takes its toll on my hands and my back, but the hardest part is keeping the kitchen secure. Germs can spread easily from the kitchen, so it's important to keep it clear of any unnecessary people who come in.
Folks still stroll in though. Most of them have a good reason. They keep a hot water pot, the garbage bags, and late meals back there. People need access to those things for the sake of keeping the shelter going and it makes sense for someone to jump in, get them, and jump back out again instead of not having them.
Other times, people just want to eat things that they aren't supposed to be eating. I even had the guy in charge of coordinating the kitchen come in just to play some music. If the people who are in charge of enforcing the rules aren't doing it, who will? As the guy doing chores in there, I'm the only one who has a right to be there, but then this isn't an environment where I can simply push back on principle. I mean, I could, but then I'd be climbing the mountain the next day.
I'm learning though and we'll see how well I can secure the perimeter tonight.
Robo Hobo Homo #013
Everyone has a theory. That thirty-minute conversation I had with The Mumblr exposed me to a lot of theories. Danny, who told me about how he called everyone. He had some theories. My bunkmate Larry has a lot of theories. I have theories, but then we all live in Purgatory Shelter.
My theory is that in our mad, mad world, you work for someone before they hire you. It's bullshit, right? Like, they have human resources departments that are paid to find and recruit good people. I don't think that it works that way down here though.
I think that human resources folks on my level just keep up certifications and give anti-sexual harassment training. I think the thing is that you have to act like a person working for them whose job it is to get you hired. The assumption is that they won't follow up or pursue you unless you act like you already work for them.
It's a stupid system, but the behavioral model of most businesses that hold: as lazy as they are stupid.
My theory is that in our mad, mad world, you work for someone before they hire you. It's bullshit, right? Like, they have human resources departments that are paid to find and recruit good people. I don't think that it works that way down here though.
I think that human resources folks on my level just keep up certifications and give anti-sexual harassment training. I think the thing is that you have to act like a person working for them whose job it is to get you hired. The assumption is that they won't follow up or pursue you unless you act like you already work for them.
It's a stupid system, but the behavioral model of most businesses that hold: as lazy as they are stupid.
Robo Hobo Homo #012
Everything down here runs on cash. Well, cash and tobacco. Even if I do get a paycheck, I'll lose a cut off of the top of it just to get it turned into cash. The alternative is opening a bank account. Using the library internet, I looked up costs to open up a bank account:
Local Bank A: ??? to open an account, $3 monthly for a balance <$250
Natl. Bank A: ??? to open an account, $12 monthly for a balance <$250
Local Bank B:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Local Bank C:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Natl. Bank B: %50 to open an account, $7 monthly fee
Local Bank D: LOL, NOPE!
Local Bank E:$100 to open an account, ?? monthly fee
Local Bank F:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Natl. Bank C: ??? to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Local Bank G: $50 to open an account, $7 monthly fee
So, I guess if my first check comes in to over $50, I can open an account with Local Bank G. I'll be paying $7 a month from then on out for banking. Now, they might have other accounts whenever I get more money or a minimum balance that waives the cost, but for now, that's what the number is.
The alternative is that if my first check is less than $100, I cash it, pocket it, and open up an account at Local Bank B after my next pay period.
Or maybe it's $100 straight up and all of this is academic.
It doesn't seem like much, but right now if I were to interview downtown and work five days out of a week before my first check, I'm down $12 before I see any money ($1 bus rides each way). I could stretch that by walking home at night, which I'll have to because I don't have $12 to spare. I rolled into town with $15, but I've spent $4.40 of it and $5 is in reserve for park fare in case I end up climbing the mountain anyway.
This leads me to a theory I'm going to talk about later.
Local Bank A: ??? to open an account, $3 monthly for a balance <$250
Natl. Bank A: ??? to open an account, $12 monthly for a balance <$250
Local Bank B:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Local Bank C:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Natl. Bank B: %50 to open an account, $7 monthly fee
Local Bank D: LOL, NOPE!
Local Bank E:$100 to open an account, ?? monthly fee
Local Bank F:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Natl. Bank C: ??? to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Local Bank G: $50 to open an account, $7 monthly fee
So, I guess if my first check comes in to over $50, I can open an account with Local Bank G. I'll be paying $7 a month from then on out for banking. Now, they might have other accounts whenever I get more money or a minimum balance that waives the cost, but for now, that's what the number is.
The alternative is that if my first check is less than $100, I cash it, pocket it, and open up an account at Local Bank B after my next pay period.
Or maybe it's $100 straight up and all of this is academic.
It doesn't seem like much, but right now if I were to interview downtown and work five days out of a week before my first check, I'm down $12 before I see any money ($1 bus rides each way). I could stretch that by walking home at night, which I'll have to because I don't have $12 to spare. I rolled into town with $15, but I've spent $4.40 of it and $5 is in reserve for park fare in case I end up climbing the mountain anyway.
This leads me to a theory I'm going to talk about later.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Robo Hobo Homo #011
The next group I want to talk about are the bravos. These guys are loud, selfish pricks. They're willing to work and they work hard, but they still have to feel powerful even when they aren't. Shouting, ignoring rules, being gregarious, giving people help, or giving people hard times are all that they're about. They're at the bottom of the social pile, but they still want to be above someone.
The lost. My bunkmate is this one. He's just here to get as much as he can for as little as he can. He can get money from the government, so he will. Surviving is good enough for him. He tried to give me pointers on faking crazy when I asked about getting legitimate psychological help. It was nice of him. I don't judge, but really I do judge.
The final one is sorta my group. The silence. We just hang out, do our thing and don't worry about it. Sometimes that manifests as the same laziness I attribute to the lost and bravos. Well, the bravos want things clean whenever they feel like making things clean and the lost at least like their own spaces clean.
Obviously, I get along best with the other silences, but I should try to approach more of them and get to know them. Well, I should do that for everyone. I should try to meet one guy and talk with that guy every day.
The lost. My bunkmate is this one. He's just here to get as much as he can for as little as he can. He can get money from the government, so he will. Surviving is good enough for him. He tried to give me pointers on faking crazy when I asked about getting legitimate psychological help. It was nice of him. I don't judge, but really I do judge.
The final one is sorta my group. The silence. We just hang out, do our thing and don't worry about it. Sometimes that manifests as the same laziness I attribute to the lost and bravos. Well, the bravos want things clean whenever they feel like making things clean and the lost at least like their own spaces clean.
Obviously, I get along best with the other silences, but I should try to approach more of them and get to know them. Well, I should do that for everyone. I should try to meet one guy and talk with that guy every day.
Robo Hobo Homo #010
It's a trope when the protagonist names the broad categories of new things as they introduce the audience to their new world. In this case, I'm going to run down the classes of homeless dudes I've met here.
Now note that I'm not personable, so I don't know any of these guys that well yet. I'm writing at least the first dozen RoboHoboHomos on my first Sunday here.
The first is the mumblr. I've only run into one real mumblr at Purgatory Shelter. Another one followed me on the street Friday. He started telling me about how he got into a fight with his old lady. He mentioned she was overseas. Then he mentioned how tough it was for soldiers overseas. Then he started talking about how they're all a bunch of “hoo-ahs,” which was so specific I became sure he was regurgitating stuff wholesale. It was about that time that I remembered that my top walking speed can outpace lots of folks' running speed, so I gunned it and he fell behind.
The guy I met at Purgatory Shelter was a lot the same. The Mumblr said a lot of things I agreed with, but they were all fragments, words without ideas or structure between them. It was a stream of thesis statements that were spat out between these shutters and slurps that I believe are related to some scars on his face. It took me fifteen minutes of trying to get a word in edgewise before I gave up on that and another fifteen to slowly extricate myself from the social situation.
I have a few theories about mumblrs. The first is that they just want to be heard. They want someone to react to them and engage them on a human level, but the fact that they never shut up or really listen to what their companions are saying fucks them over on that. They talk to reach out, but they never listen to be grasped.
The other theory is that they've been living in a world that doesn't value or listen to them for so long, they just get right to the sound byte. There's nothing else there, so the try to put out the most pertinent sound bytes they can just to get people into their sphere. It's like the first one, but it's motivated by getting people to give up money, sympathy, or respect for their wisdom and attitudes. It's like a “God Bless” cardboard sign turned up to 11 and stuck on fast forward, a survival trait evolved to an unwieldy, counter-productive extreme.
The other theory is kind of why I blog. They have all of these ideas and they want to share them, but they have no idea how to build ideas, connect to an audience, or shut the hell up.
There but for the grace of the gods go I.
For now, at least.
Now note that I'm not personable, so I don't know any of these guys that well yet. I'm writing at least the first dozen RoboHoboHomos on my first Sunday here.
The first is the mumblr. I've only run into one real mumblr at Purgatory Shelter. Another one followed me on the street Friday. He started telling me about how he got into a fight with his old lady. He mentioned she was overseas. Then he mentioned how tough it was for soldiers overseas. Then he started talking about how they're all a bunch of “hoo-ahs,” which was so specific I became sure he was regurgitating stuff wholesale. It was about that time that I remembered that my top walking speed can outpace lots of folks' running speed, so I gunned it and he fell behind.
The guy I met at Purgatory Shelter was a lot the same. The Mumblr said a lot of things I agreed with, but they were all fragments, words without ideas or structure between them. It was a stream of thesis statements that were spat out between these shutters and slurps that I believe are related to some scars on his face. It took me fifteen minutes of trying to get a word in edgewise before I gave up on that and another fifteen to slowly extricate myself from the social situation.
I have a few theories about mumblrs. The first is that they just want to be heard. They want someone to react to them and engage them on a human level, but the fact that they never shut up or really listen to what their companions are saying fucks them over on that. They talk to reach out, but they never listen to be grasped.
The other theory is that they've been living in a world that doesn't value or listen to them for so long, they just get right to the sound byte. There's nothing else there, so the try to put out the most pertinent sound bytes they can just to get people into their sphere. It's like the first one, but it's motivated by getting people to give up money, sympathy, or respect for their wisdom and attitudes. It's like a “God Bless” cardboard sign turned up to 11 and stuck on fast forward, a survival trait evolved to an unwieldy, counter-productive extreme.
The other theory is kind of why I blog. They have all of these ideas and they want to share them, but they have no idea how to build ideas, connect to an audience, or shut the hell up.
There but for the grace of the gods go I.
For now, at least.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)