so this is long. i was on here awhile back, curious, desperate, researching.
I'm still alive! Since then I lived in the woods, a shelter, the woods, a sober living house, a motel room, a shelter. And jail. Most recently, jail. Finally the shelter put me in an absurdly nice apartment and forbade me from bad behavior. Not so good for me personally, because alcohol does to me what it does. BUt was before the recent jail thing, for DUI.
Got away from the shelter shit, which was eerily cultish and wildly ineffective for other individuals, not just me.
Now I am living in a family-owned building, trying to help sell the whole shebang. I'm in a sketchy basement apartment. I've been familiar with the weirdness of this location for a long time and contributed a lot, and seen a lot, and probably drained a lot.
For the apartment: the walls are square with drywall, i have electricity, slow internet and best of all, clean water and functional plumbing.
When I say sketchy: 15-20 years ago a lady and 2-3 kids, and a random young developmentally disabled guy, about 20, were living there, in this apartment, and i was asked to come down and "fix the wall".
I couldn't fix the wall because there was just dirt where there should be a wall and some one had been angry enough to expose the bullshit and tear up the drywall. the basement apartment is a cave.
The back walls of the apartment are a steep hill and I have not seen evidence of anything like a moisture barrier, a foundation, absolutely fucking nothing. It is a petri dish if you think human kids are just experimental rats. There has to be something like a foundation there, maybe.
I just gave up and said children shouldn't live here, we can't afford to make this appropriate, and my concerns were ignored. And how in the fuck would I ever say we should kick out children? I can't trust the local government. I am a mean bastard, but I ain't them.
I can't even figure out where the foundation of the building is, if such exists. I see one massive cement wall at the far back, away from the hill, which is good. The upstairs is a commercial rental-- the whole thing was built into the side of a steep hill. This probably doesn't make sense, sorry.
Let's call this a journal entry because my memoir will be just more sadness and confusion.
I'm still alive! Since then I lived in the woods, a shelter, the woods, a sober living house, a motel room, a shelter. And jail. Most recently, jail. Finally the shelter put me in an absurdly nice apartment and forbade me from bad behavior. Not so good for me personally, because alcohol does to me what it does. BUt was before the recent jail thing, for DUI.
Got away from the shelter shit, which was eerily cultish and wildly ineffective for other individuals, not just me.
Now I am living in a family-owned building, trying to help sell the whole shebang. I'm in a sketchy basement apartment. I've been familiar with the weirdness of this location for a long time and contributed a lot, and seen a lot, and probably drained a lot.
For the apartment: the walls are square with drywall, i have electricity, slow internet and best of all, clean water and functional plumbing.
When I say sketchy: 15-20 years ago a lady and 2-3 kids, and a random young developmentally disabled guy, about 20, were living there, in this apartment, and i was asked to come down and "fix the wall".
I couldn't fix the wall because there was just dirt where there should be a wall and some one had been angry enough to expose the bullshit and tear up the drywall. the basement apartment is a cave.
The back walls of the apartment are a steep hill and I have not seen evidence of anything like a moisture barrier, a foundation, absolutely fucking nothing. It is a petri dish if you think human kids are just experimental rats. There has to be something like a foundation there, maybe.
I just gave up and said children shouldn't live here, we can't afford to make this appropriate, and my concerns were ignored. And how in the fuck would I ever say we should kick out children? I can't trust the local government. I am a mean bastard, but I ain't them.
I can't even figure out where the foundation of the building is, if such exists. I see one massive cement wall at the far back, away from the hill, which is good. The upstairs is a commercial rental-- the whole thing was built into the side of a steep hill. This probably doesn't make sense, sorry.
Let's call this a journal entry because my memoir will be just more sadness and confusion.
