December 30, 2018

What a long strange year it's been. I started the year with a high paying job in a small town in Maine. I had an apartment, a cat named Misty, and a 17 year old Ford Taurus that had handled a cross country move from Texas to Maine with minimal difficulty.

Less than a month later, I was unemployed, the apartment was no longer in my name, Misty was in the Greater Androscoggin Humane Society shelter, and the Taurus had barely survived a move from Maine to Brooklyn after a steering hose burst that wiped out my savings. My remaining possessions were in a storage unit in Long Island City. By the end of March, the Taurus was in the possession of a formerly car-less West Indian couple from Long Island, and I was in a psychosis inducing living environment in the New York City shelter system. By that time, I had resumed regular writing for the first time since March 2016 thanks to the Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen Writers' Workshop.

By the end of April, I had enough. Elmhurst Hospital diagnosed me with a severe case of depression. I had snuck my laptop into the shelter and composed a few songs- one of which mixed EDM and classical. I used what little savings I had from my state tax refunds and public assistance to pay for a one way flight out of NYC and the shelter system to Denver.

I spent a little over a week in Denver before ending up in one of their shelters, which was run by Denver's Catholic Charities. That situation was a lot less chaotic than the CAMBA, Ward's Island, and SCO shelters in New York. I was able to find temp work rather quickly. But the temp assignments were not permanent, and the one permanent job I secured (which lasted 10 days) put me at odds with my body clock and the shelter's meal schedule. During my spare time, I joined a writer's group from Denver called Hard Times. But after 2 months in the shelter and nothing permanent on the horizon, I decided to move back to my hometown of Colorado Springs in mid-July.

I blew most of my savings on a month and a half of a house share rental in the Hillside neighborhood. After numerous job rejections (including one at the Chidlaw Building where my father worked in the 1970s), I was hired by Elwood Staffing (the successor to my former longtime employer of SOS Staffing), and sent to a warehouse on the south side of town. The work was unlike any previous warehouse or assembly work I had done before. My coworkers were very close-knit and social, a major departure in attitude from previous co-workers in Denver, NYC, and Texas. My medical records were transferred to Peak Vista and Aspen Pointe. By the end of my first visit to Aspen Pointe, I found out I was misdiagnosed in NYC and Denver- I have been suffering from (previously undiagnosed) PTSD for years, dating back to when my father was still alive. Numerous events have triggered it, including my mother's sudden death in 1991, the events of 1995 (when I lost my grandparents and father within a 9 month span), my eviction and subsequent blacklisting by the Colorado Springs Salvation Army in January 2015 which led to a Catholic Charities assisted Greyhound ticket back east, and most recently, the violent DeLousio-mandated NYC shelter nightmare.

By late October, I had enough money to buy a car, a Buick Century. Due to an extended Thanksgiving break, I drove the Buick east towards Pennsylvania and NYC. I got to visit my relatives in PA for the first time in over a year. And the Buick was big enough to fit all of my belongings from the storage unit, which I emptied in the Buick's only (day) trip to NYC. The ride back was scary, after running out of money due to an unexpected insurance bill and snow-related road closures in Missouri.

Less than a week after my return from Pennsylvania, the warehouse laid me off. Apparently the decision was made high up in the company because my supervisor and co-workers had no idea until I returned to clean out my locker. Elwood sent me to a lumber company (which resulted in 2 hours of work and a finger injury) and to a moving company that handled events at the Broadmoor. About 10 days after I was laid off, I was called back to my former warehouse site, and I'm still there to this day.

I have been going to Mass at St. Mary's Cathedral since I returned to the Springs. A few people there remember me from the previous times I attended Mass. One family even invited me to their Christmas luncheon, to which I am very thankful.

What a long strange year it's been. I'm not quite up to where I was in early January. But I've discovered a lot about myself. I'm probably more open to different kinds of friends and relationships. I'm probably more Catholic than I was at the start of the year, as various church-run institutions in Denver and Colorado Springs helped me recover from a traumatic and violent situation in New York. I'm a more prolific writer than I have been in years. I have written 2 short stories with characters I haven't written about since 2011. Thanks to Holy Apostles, Hard Times, and Wattpad, anyone can read and comment on these works. I haven't composed as much music as I normally do (although I'm working on a couple of tracks for my annual New Year's Day release on Tuesday). Hopefully in 2019 I can get more settled.

September 25, 2011

It's still September, and I still live in Cap Hill, Denver. Yesterday (for about $100), I got to escape Denver in a rented 2010 Chevy Impala and return to my hometown of Colorado Springs. Rents are still cheap there, but the job market is still worse than Denver's. Due to the abnormally warm weather since the first day of Autumn, most of the local attractions that close for the summer are still open. The Manitou spring water is still available for free. But my trip to the Springs was mainly a business trip- as in rescuing personal items from the storage site I've had there since May 31. Most of my valuable items (computers, genealogy stuff, old photos, diaries, and winter gear) are now in my suddenly undersized room in Cap Hill. Noticeably absent is my wi-fi receiver (which may have never left 618 N Weber Street back in May), which is why I'm posting this blog from the main library Downtown. Normally, I might be inclined to call Century Link and get their $29.95 no-phone internet, but I'm not sure if I want to stay in my current residence after the beginning of next month (when the month-to-month lease rent is due again). Parking in near that building is as bad as it is in New York, as I found out last night. The 2 legged neighbors are fine, but I have a major problem with the 6 legged neighbors freeloading at my place (the bedbugs and roaches) and about 2 hours ago caught a four legged unwanted freeloader- a mouse, who was probably escaping from my neighbors' cats. But I would need a car to move all my stuff out of the Cap Hill rooming house- and it could be months before I could afford to buy another car.

September 11, 2011

I didn't have internet access or a digital camera (or any camera) on this date 10 years ago, which is why I'm using alternative video/photo sources on this blog. And for the most part I would love to never remember again the horrors of what happened 5 miles from my residence on that date. I would love never to remember watching that horrible sight of the North Tower collapse live on WCBS-TV (which was the only commercial English language station not knocked off the air when that happened). I would love to forget the smells of death and the debris that came across the harbor. I would love to forget the endless funeral coverage and the media taunting by Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, Hamas and their ilk. I would love to forget that one of the priests at the church I was a member of  in 2001 (St. Francis of Assisi in Midtown) died for the sole crime of administering last rites to an injured fireman.



Ten years later, I would love to ignore the event happening just outside the library where I'm writing this blog- a tribute and Beach Boys concert, in a city of 600000 that was never on Al Qaeda's radar. Sure, Najibullah Zazi lived in nearby Aurora, but instead of crossing Yosemite Street, he had to go back to New York to implement his terror scheme.

It's hard to believe that just over 10 years ago, I was an NYPD candidate (until some health problems and an ugly firing got in the way) who should have been there that day. Before September of 2001, no one ever thought the US would be involved in a deadly, undermanned Vietnam-type war in Afghanistan, or in another war in Iraq.

But all of that stuff did happen, and 10 years later, there is no waking up from this nightmare, not for the city of New York, not for those who died in the planes and at the Pentagon, and for the thousands of those whose loved ones died on that day.

Most of the readings for today's Mass (which I'm sure were the same at St. Francis as they were at Holy Ghost) had to do with forgiveness and healing. But if I can't forgive a scumbag politician who bribed my co-workers (and sent R-rated texts to a teenager), if I can't forgive another scumbag politician who fucked up the job market as well as some hookers, if I can't forgive various family members who ignored and virtually disowned me in my greatest time of need earlier this summer, and if I can't forgive my possibly dying sister who has just gone on another psychotic ego trip, how the Hell am I supposed to forgive a bunch of Satan worshiping terrorists who want to turn my longtime home into a nuclear wasteland and who succeeded in killing thousands of my neighbors 10 years ago?

August 21, 2011

My long nightmare is over. After 2 lengthy stints of homelessness, I am now employed and housed. The 2 week break between the shelters was spent at a rooming house in the Cap Hill section of Denver. I moved back there this afternoon, with slightly cheaper rent and a much bigger 3rd floor unit with great digital reception. As my main computer is still in storage in the Springs, I don't know how good any wi-fi reception is yet- or whether I will end up going with the new phone company Century Link for service whenever my computer gets to Denver.

It took a very long time, but I now have a permanent job with a certain automotive warehouse north of Denver. My temp job with Randstad's Denver office lasted 2 weeks, and I've already exceeded the number of hours and days worked with the new job. The supervisor was nice enough to let me store my bags in the office when I was staying at the Denver Rescue Mission. Interestingly enough, that warehouse is the first non-temp job I've ever held in Colorado. Randstad and all my Springs jobs were temporary, and technically I don't know if I was ever considered an employee of GCA. I never got paid for their orientation last month.

While as far as amenities, the Denver shelters are much nicer than their New York counterparts, the admission and bed policies would probably be illegal in New York. Just because one signs up to stay at a shelter like Denver Rescue Mission, there is no guarantee that person will even get a bed. A shelter forcing people out on the streets because there are no alternative beds would be mucho illegal in NYC. Indeed, the New York ACLU would howl about it and the city would end up housing people in an overpriced hotel or in Rikers (if they did something illegal to get kicked out of the shelter). And someone has not been checking who has been getting to the Denver shelters. There was a joint Denver PD/FBI/ICE raid on the Denver Rescue Mission last Tuesday (August 16). The local media ignored this 3+ hour raid, with the probable exception of KCNC, because I spent over an hour that night trying to e-mail them camera phone photos (below) of the raid taken from the 2nd floor of the Mission. After I posted about it on Facebook, my former roommate (from 1993) Vince Shovlin loaned me money to get out of the shelter, and I haven't been back since Wednesday morning. (Between Wednesday night and this morning, I was staying at the Denver hostel I first stayed at when I arrived in Denver nearly 3 months ago.) Several others never returned to the Mission, but that's because they are in jail- or in one case, a mental institution in Pueblo.

I guess the last 3 months have shown me who my real friends are. I didn't expect any help from my New York friends on this, but I did get support messages from them on my voice mail and on Facebook. I sure as hell didn't solicit Vince for money (I haven't heard from him in years until Wednesday), but I was offered the money and now have housing because of it, in addition to my first paycheck, which probably won't clear my account until next week. I definitely wasn't expecting moral support from other homeless people when I was kicked out of Samaritan House and when the Denver Rescue Mission was full, but I managed to get it. Apparently some people are praying for this semi-broken 39 year old former Brooklynite. And I don't know how or if I could ever thank them.

July 27, 2011

I have been out of the Samaritan House shelter for a week now- but given my employment status, I don't know if that will last past next week. On July 19, I got a text from a driving job I applied for 2 weeks ago, inviting me to their new hire orientation. I attended the event, which was held Friday the 22nd at the Hampton Inn near DIA. I was told I was hired and that I would get my new work schedule within 2 days. I even listed this employer on my lease. Monday- no call from the company, so I called the emergency number in the employee handbook. They refer me to one of the recruiters, who said she doesn't handle scheduling, and that someone would get back to me. That was over 48 hours ago. Assuming I am still employed (which is highly unlikely considering that this company has ignored my calls), I will not get my first paycheck until August 12- 9 days after my next rent due date. So I can look forward to the lottery line at Denver Rescue Mission again in a week, or else pay the $11 for the FREX bus back to Colorado Springs (where most of my belongings are still in storage) and invest in one of those tents along Fountain Creek.

June 7, 2011

It's like 2008 all over again. A New York politician I personally despise gets caught in an X rated scandal, I am financially forced to move from a cheap residence in Colorado Springs, and as of last night, I am in the shelter system again. Thanks to a couple of social service agencies, I have an address to give potential employers and a place to store my clothes and other items. I even have a free health clinic to go to (which has done more to remedy the skin problems than Peak Vista ever did in the Springs). But the shelters here in Denver are a lot less organized than in New York. There is no city agency monitoring them or putting shelter people in programs. Indeed, due to the lottery system they use by who shows up, there is no guarantee a homeless person will even get a bed. I spent most of last evening shuttling between 2 shelters trying to find out which one I would sleep in. Since I am definitely not the only one in that situation, I would strongly advise Denver drivers to avoid Park Avenue West of Broadway between 5PM and 8PM because of the mass migration of people trying lotteries in both shelters.

At this point, I am stuck in this nightmare until I can earn at least $250 in income (the minimum required for the SROs I've contacted here in Denver, which average $110 a week plus deposit). I am currently enrolled in the Denver Workforce Center, the St. Francis Center employment office, at least 8 temp agencies, and have applied for at least 20 other jobs. But for now, I have an address, 2 phone numbers which for now I can access for free, storage in 2 cities, and enough of a food stamp balance that I could afford a months rent in an SRO were it legal to use them for that purpose.

And if anyone thinks that all this nightmare is due to any chemical problems I have (I don't have any), or due to Bush's handling of the economy, or because I would prefer this over living in an apartment, then they should expect a Howard Newman-esque response in return.

June 3, 2011

I am temporarily settled in Downtown Denver. I don't know where I will be living next week yet. I have sporadic access to the internet (although unlike last week, I'm not paying $62 a month for it anymore). Otherwise, I would spend time commenting on the death of Dr. Death (Jack Kevorkian) and the ongoing internet scandal involving the Weiner's weiner.

May 28, 2011

About 72 hours left before I have to move. So much for having my own apartment- what's the point of having your own place if you can't afford it? What's the point of moving back to your hometown if you can't find or maintain work without a car? (See May 11 blog as to why I no longer have a car.)

Barring a financial miracle, I will probably move to Denver next week. The job market is significantly better there than in Colorado Springs, and unlike Colorado Springs, most potential employers can be accessed by foot or by public transportation.

I just can't wait for this nightmare to get over with.