nobo

giving change to homeless people is something that i have always hated being confronted with. it is something i will quite literally go out of my way to avoid. im not adverse to crossing the street, pretending i'm deaf, or just turning around and going home just to avoid that dreaded question. 'spare a little change?' in this country we have branded the homeless a stigma of being drug addict, booze hounds. dont get me wrong, i have nothing agains't drugs or booze, or the abuse of either. its just that i never really thought it fair to just be able to stand lazily on corner pestering passer-bys, when i have to punch in and out and pay taxes just to get my booze and drugs.
then last night, i had an epiphany of sorts. i had just come back home from a night of drug and alcohol abuse and didn't have any cash on me. i was craving a black & mild (cigar) as i often do on a late night bender. i searched my room for change and came up with about 52 cents. 56 cents short. i knocked on my roommates door and asked him if he could 'spare a little change.' groggily he checked his dresser and his pants to see what he could come up with. he handed me roughly 13 cents and said, 'why don't you check the couch cushions.' it was then that it hit me. when ever im asked for change my first reaction is 'why dont you just get a job?' for what? to make the dollar eighteen it cost for a low grade malt liquor. not saying that all who beg are looking for a buzz but if that is why they need the change, i get it now.
i work (well, i have worked) to pay rent, for a roof over my head. i work, for food in my belly. i work so i can travel. but if all i needed was enough money for a buzz to get my through boring homeless day then its obvious that work is a terrible idea.
this doesn't mean i'm going to start showering hobo's with a handfuls of penny's when they ask, but at least now i'll feel a little guilty about it.

ahh, who i'am kidding, no i won't.

boozin' for a good cause

fuck work, fuck rent. right? yeah, of course i'm right. but it doesn't mean im right. you have to have an earning of sorts. it doesn't have to be much, but you have to have it, unless of course you're cool with sleeping on the street. i'm not. the last trip i took on a plane was planned for 7 hours in the air. turned out all told i was in travel limbo for a little over 17 hours. largely due to my poor airport punctuality. but as i sat in the airport, hour after hour with literally nothing to do i realized how shitty that would be to have no where to call home, or to never have any obligatory tasks to fill the day. or how shitty it would be to live in an airport for that matter. so i've moved back to my hometown and i'am once again forced to seek some form of income. getting back to my original thought; fuck work. that is something i hope to accomplish. weekly i search the local entertainment paper for various paying gigs involving little or no labor. there are always ones pertaining to alcohol. the pulse of this city. the pulse that i find throbbing in me the moment the sun begins to go down.
so i gave one a ring the other day, left a message, and put it in the back of my mind. a few days later they called me back, ran me through a preliminary battery of questions) pertaining to my alcohol use (how often i drink, am i depressed, do i ever wake up hung-over; they should have saved some time and just asked if i was an american) and any other extracurricular activities that i may or may not partake in. i passed with flying colors. i can only speculate on what the criteria was for pass or fail. i suppose had i said i only drink 5 times a week instead of 6 there would have been a chance i wouldn't have made the cut. all the details (length, compensation, rules, etc.) of the study were discussed with me and i accepted. this afternoon i went in for a more lengthy battery of questionnaires to dig a little deeper into physche. i began to lose focus about a quarter of a way through as the questions became a tad repetitive and all the talk of alcohol made want a beer really bad. i forged on and about an hour and a half later i was given a cell phone and instructed that i would be called at random four times a day to answer a few questions pertaining to my daily activities. in addition to the four random calls, i have to make a call when i wake up for the day. they prefer that its before 12:30. i assured them that i would do my best. we're studying booze hounds here aren't we. what self respecting alky wakes up before brunch ends? also before i have my first sip of alcohol i have to call the automated service and let them know. likewise i have to call when my drinking session has ended and inform them of how much booze i've consumed that night. assuming that i can still dial a phone at that point.
the compensation is based on how often iam able to receive the random calls and how thorough i complete them. all told over the 7 month study i should receive roughly 525 dollars. not bad for pressing a few buttons and drinking a ton of beers on some doctor's tab.

hot, hot, heat

For the past three days the temperature/humitity in the Queen City has been (un)bearable. Certainly something to constantly complain about. Being without a job and without any real stresses in life the weather has once again filled the void of the negative. I suppose you always need a ying to the yang. A balance. I am, as most who know me know, easily defeated. So 89 degrees with a 101% humitity is reason enough to say 'fuck it, its too hot for that.' Nothing is important enough to break a sweat doing it.