Finding a place to live in this city is as entertaining as running around your favorite amusement park, but having trouble finding the entrance to any of the rides. So much to do in this city and I can only assume there is something very exciting going on down every busy street. I need to get in and stop watching from the sidelines. So many lost their tickets and now they stand around hopelessly awaiting the next big thing to arise. I could see the exhausted faces of these jaded souls sitting on the sidewalks with bags and forgotten aspirations. I wonder how soon until I am part of this culture. Their skin is cracked with too much sun and their clothes 6 sizes two large clearly were not a well thought out fashion arrangement. Golf balls erect from their chiseled faces that have sunk into their skulls. They search around for someone to see them I see them and the aesthetics in their existence as they paint the streets with expression… they are walking public service announcements advertising places you can go and live without shelter, a place without the boundaries of society. They ran away from problems to find themselves hungry and still locked inside their thoughts. You see your issues never leave you they only slip away when out of sight, but you need something else to fill their image with, it’s hard to believe they once had a purpose. I have a purpose and I must press on. Right now I need to find a place to call home for a while I work a job. I need to be showered, shaven and focused.
I stop to roll some tobacco in the Hate. My dark bowler shades the sun from my face, but the rays still boil my head. I'm looking around and realize its getting greener as I near a park. I suppose I can see what I kinda trouble I could find... perhaps at-least some herbs. I need to get things off my mind.
Constantly I'm fighting with myself and the whispers bouncing back and fourth and round the corners of my brain. I'm my own worst enemy as I allow the doubt to imbue such negativity along this journey. Questioning my competence may merely prostrate this mission. Nick and Samantha wronged me and even though they don't see past their own little world I could only desire to someday return and show them that I'm not some wash-out. I will make it here. I'm not a fake. My road was paved in the sky and I need to find way back to that place where I floated over and exceeded these petty obstacles. Perhaps trying to find my social plane will take much longer than predicted and I shouldn't put much stake in such purposes yet. I have my job, I have my undeniable charm and even my health. Just as I feel I am invisible still I am noticed and brought to life by the needs of a bum.
"Hey old boy roll me a fag?" Smiling with cracked lips he in spite of his ripped clothes and un-bathed stench I am only too much a push over to just walk on by. I reach into my pouch and begin to roll him a smoke. "Spare me some change, I will tell no lie as me plans to spend it on the juice." I find three quarters in my pocket and pass in to the bum as his grin reveals rotted yellow teeth, but his eyes light up and draw closer to the silver coins. I feel good.
The day grows later and the streets become evermore desolate. I am walking down the street wondering where to go when I have no friends. Streets are naked and bare except for occasional crack addicts. Early bird catches the worm, but am I the worm? Constantly slugging around searching for a hole. Perhaps an apple to dwell?
Missing scene
I knock on the door and in seconds a giant infant of a man greets me with a most empty yet benign stare. I understood that Jillian has a thirteen-year-old son, but this monster stood no less than 6 feet tall. The boy was built like a fucking lineman and from his blank perspective he may be a natural.
"Maaaaaaa" he's here." He backs up and turns his enormous frame to unblock the doorway to let me enter the cave.
Behind Frankenstein I find Cousin It or to my surprise as she brushes her extremely long dirty blond hair I find Jillian’s face and gigantic blue eyes staring up at me with a timid appearance. She looks as innocent as her son with glistening cheeks like two shiny red apples. Another victim she was to the evident shortage of sun-block here in Nebbia. Her skin was coded with a layer of glossy film from over exposure to the sun; this seemed to disguise her youth. According to her Facebook profile she was thirty-five, but I wouldn’t of guessed her any younger than forty-five.
“Hello and you must be Danny, hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place? She doesn’t look me in the eyes for long until she turns to face the tiny living room with a peculiar blushing smirk as she sips a beer. “Well let me show you your room.”
The little house is muddled with stuffed animals as if someone went on a mad winning streak at the local carnival. Old furniture cluttered the small space, although the place smells habitable and I'm not too concerned with the hand-me down decor, old beige paint and dusty drapes, I mean Jillian is a single mother raising this beast child alone. I could only imagine that she is struggling to keep this monster fed. I follow her into my room around the corner and it is bare accept for a futon... plenty of room for my duffel bag and me. Tomorrow is Monday and the new week begins. I need to get sleep tonight. I have to be at City Indulgence by 9am and ready to work. I need to leave the anxiety behind me
"So I understand your asking 500 for the rent? I was curious if you would take half until payday and I could get you the rest?" In a bind hoping she'll negotiate with me since I'm on limited funds until payday.
Confident that I'm not your average local sociopath, Jillian seems excited to have me take the room. She agrees without a second thought. She immediately hands me the keys to the place and as much as any normal person would find this to be too effortless I'm in some desperate times. I give Jillian the 250 and enter the bedroom, close the door and fall into the futon and pass out. When I awake it is dark outside and I can hear Jillian on the phone talking to her friends about her new roommate.
"Yeah... he's a 27yr old comic artist from Chicago. I'm not sure how long he's planning to stay. He’s working at City Indulgence” Her voice silences almost to a whisper... "Yes he's cute. No you can't come by tonight... I think he's out already. He has to get up early for work... yeah bye."
To embarrassed to exit the room and pretend I haven't been listening in on her phone conversation I stay for a while and stare at the blank wall reevaluating my newfound situation. I find Jillian's conversation to be a tad juvenile for an adult female... still I must look past these flaws and find gratitude that she has taken me in. It’s nice to have a little privacy for once. I know from past experiences sleeping on couches for long periods of time is no way to live and after a while really starts totally fucking with your head.
Privacy is truly golden.
My head
Filled with thoughts so far from dead
My heart skips beats from frustration
From my own mental procrastination
I will run these streets looking for a place to hide
Putting my silly dreams aside
Thoughts be just thoughts
And forever gone
Let me focus
Is this just a phase?
This metamorphic maze
Like a catipillar I will caccoon
Avaiting for my escape root
But in my hybernation I change
Uknowingly, secretly and silently
They look upon me so strange
When I awake to their gaze
Am I not what there expecting
Has it truly been so many days
I question my sanity, this reality
Where am I right now?
Am I losing touch?
Let me focus
Missing scene
I find Mrs. Dunbar's tiny green house just walking distance from the bus stop. It's a little house fit snug between two larger apartment buildings. So unnaturally situated on this street that I feel it just popped up there from some other dimension. The house has an eerie feel to it and even though it is a bright sunny day I keep my guard up as I walk up the sidewalk imagining the house made of gingerbread and what lies inside will be the end of me, but I must continue this courageous ballad which has gotten me this far, my neck still above water. I'm still free and even though I'm slightly homeless I'm still in search of something I do not yet understand. When I get to the door it opens before I can even knock.
"Hello Danny" looks as she has been waiting impatiently for my arrival. Her gaze penetrates deep as she reads into me looking past my smile and friendly manner. I guess I don't blame her with the crazy sons-o-bitches walking around this city. Not to mention Craigslist freaks and that I understand from firsthand experience. She is much older than I pictured. She must be in her 60s, but her voice is very youthful and it is surreal to listen to her speak.
The inside of Mrs. Delmar's house seems exaggerated. It looks like a cross between an antique store and a set from some old show on Nickelodeon. I understand the idea of quaintness, but nothing looks real here. I feel like I've entered some museum and there are ropes in front of everything... the stuff has been kept up for centuries. There is a bar with old bottles of gin and whiskey that have been filled with water and kool-aid. I'm assuming she doesn't drink. Hanging from the wall there are aged bags of corn chips and bags of hard candy that look to be on sale... Huh? Price-tags? Evidently she has turned the bar into her own personal vending machine. I cannot make sense of this situation quite yet, although the smell reminds me of my Grandma's house. You know that one of a kind smell of old furniture and mold.
"You are not to touch my things." Speaking firmly. "You'll need to supply your own dishes, napkins and of course toiletries... do not use my toilet paper". Her lines are well rehearsed as much as I'd like to feel insulted by them I shouldn't take it personal.
She's alone and somehow my heart pities her, but I'm still pondering why they all left. She speaks of a family and there are so many pictures. She has a few children and even a husband. Where is he? She says he comes to check up on her once in a while. Her children look no older than I. Have they run off? Has she run them off? Is this lady out of her god-damn mind? I don't know, but I need a place to stay. I couldn't have found a better location and to pay week by week is perfect for now until I figure some shit out. My room is baby blue, it’s clean and there is even a television. The screen is only about as wide as my hand and only a few channels come in, but it will do.
I wonder how long I can stay here, if this is going to be comfortable or a place like home. The door has been closed and I am laying on the bed... the room is chilly. I close the window. Am I doing it? Am I beating despair. I turn the TV on and find myself watching a miniature viewing of a classic Alfred Hitchcock movie - South by Southwest. Dean Martin is in a room full of people giving him strange vibes... he feels very uncomfortable. I emphasize.
I wake up and it is 2pm in the morning - the lights still on. I am still in my close so I take everything off and I'm down to my underwear. I tuck myself in under the covers and there is a certain chill that never seems to leave me. I can hear noises in the walls that are strange to me, but my exhaustion over powers my inquiry and I am out in only moments.
