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I used to be a night owl. I used to burn that midnight oil. I loved the night life. I loved to boogie.
That was because I was depressed. My days and nights were inverted. I solved that by making myself get up in the morning and go to bed at night.
Soon I began to notice how much better I was able to focus on tasks and how much more productive I'd become. I definitely preferred it to the old way. I didn't have to force myself to get up and go to bed anymore. I had established a habit that would remain with me for the rest of my life.
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The sun is coming up. It's overcast. A short school bus just pulled in at the park, presumably for a quick smoke break before having to deal with a busload of screaming kids.
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A proposition that received enough verified signatures but may not have met the deadline to make it onto the November ballot is one that would legalize recreational marijuana.
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Is God's own really a gateway drug?
I've been smoking grass for over 30 years, and nothing about it has ever compelled me to try other drugs.
Of course I have tried other drugs. I just never really got into them.
I tried crack a couple of times. It had zero effect on me. I couldn't understand how anyone could get hooked on it.
I drank a big glass of mushroom tea once, and again, nothing happened.
I've dropped acid twice, and would do it again, but only once, for old times sake. Same with ecstasy.
When I was in my 20s, I fooled around with meth for about 6 months. The associated lifestyle was so horrifying that I jumped on a Greyhound and went to Asheville to get away from the scene.
I like hydrocodone, but not enough to risk building up a tolerance to it. I want it to be effective if it's ever prescribed to me for actual pain.
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When I hung out with the Mexicans back in the day, we'd enjoy primo, or a joint laced with powder cocaine, for that edge it gives you.
Smoking pot isn't about having an edge though. It's about being calm and relaxed. That's why I detest that synthetic marijuana. There's a whole gang of demons waiting on your ass behind that fake weed buzz.
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I've never tried heroin or any of the newer opioid pain medications, nor do I intend to. I've heard way too many horror stories about that shit.
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Outbound traffic is slow on the freeway right now. You'd think the inbound lanes would be slow, what with the mad dash to work and all of the bottlenecks and interchanges up ahead.
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I don't believe I've ever had a thread go to 30 pages before. The only posting milestone I remember is when I made my ten thousandth post on Flamebunker shortly before it closed down.
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Flamebunker was one of those sites that had a section devoted to mindless message board games designed to build post count.
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Back at the night shelter. I'm not buying breakfast sandwiches from Valero anymore. The biscuit was nasty and stuck to the wrapper. The cheese appeared to be partially melted. I got the impression it had been handled outside of refrigeration for too long. I ate the sausage and threw away the rest.
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Rebel was way out of control in the check-in line yesterday. He got loose and attacked another dog this morning. They need to get rid of that worthless mutt.
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Mark rolled a blunt out of roaches. When I tasted it, I asked him if he'd cleaned the charcoal out of the roaches before he rolled it. He claimed he had, but I didn't believe him.
Tweaky Bird came krogering in and plopped her scrawny ass down by an old woman sitting on the sidewalk. She showed off her latest acquisitions to the old lady, who responded with the usual female sounds of approval.
Chocolate is riding a bicycle. The chain makes a faint "tink-a-tink-a-tink" sound as she goes.
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Frank used to be my backup pushee when Jerry showed up late. Frank's current pusher won't let anyone else push him. Jerry is the last handicapped person to arrive anymore, so I'm always further back in the check-in line than I want to be.
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Tweaky Bird is wearing some low cut boots that don't fit her. They make a clopping sound like a horse on cobblestones when she walks. I think she makes that racket on purpose to get attention.
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The charger port on my phone stopped working altogether. I took the phone back to the store, and they replaced it with a different model. I think it's the same phone they had so many defects with last time. No blue ones this time, only red.
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Firefox is taking forever to download.
The text prediction seems a little more well trained on this phone than on the other one.
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The more I come to realize that the homeless scene is every bit as toxic a situation as my previous home life was, the less time I want to spend in it.
For the last two or three days, I've been getting up before the rude awakening, getting coffee, and going to the park to watch the sunrise. A cold front rolled in around dawn yesterday, bringing light sprinkles throughout the day, with a gentle rain lingering for a few hours in the late afternoon. It's cold and overcast this morning. I went to the south side after my wake 'n' bake at the park for cheap cigarettes and gas. I figured I might be wanting to run the heater in the car for a bit, a prediction that proved accurate.
When I got back to the north side, I went by the day shelter to see if Scott was there. He wasn't, so I came to the night shelter. As I was approaching the intersection from the far side of the boulevard, I saw Scott's truck fly out of here. Was he pissed because he hasn't been able to weez a free ride from me to the store for coffee and smokes the last few days, so he could save his own gas?
I do not give a broom closet fuck. I'm tired of people making me deals that benefit them but cost me, under the guise of doing me a favor. You want to buy me food with your food stamps if I give you a ride to the store? Hey, that's great, except I have my own fucking food stamps.
But enough about that shit. You guys got tired of hearing about it days ago. The fact is, the reality of homelessness isn't as glamorous as young, healthy, well paid YouTubers playing at homeless life in a van or camper in the pristine, tranquil wilderness.
Well, I'm tired of hearing about it too. I'm tired of seeing it day in and day out. I'm tired of knowing about it. I'm tired of being down in it. Recounting the petty events of every long, dreary day isn't helping me any at all. This is not my life. Never was, never will be. So I guess I'm gonna wrap this up until I have some truly life changing news to report.
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(10-08-2022, 09:05 AM)user328 Wrote: The more I come to realize that the homeless scene is every bit as toxic a situation as my previous home life was, the less time I want to spend in it.
Sure it is... but is the toxicity of it directed at you personally? I feel like that's the only difference. When you're in a toxic household, the abuse is usually laser focused on you. With the homeless shelter situation, it's just generally focused on the whole area. It doesn't make it any more pleasant, but at least you know it isn't about YOU at the end of the day. You're not receiving the brunt of it, etc.
(10-08-2022, 09:05 AM)user328 Wrote: But enough about that shit. You guys got tired of hearing about it days ago. The fact is, the reality of homelessness isn't as glamorous as young, healthy, well paid YouTubers playing at homeless life in a van or camper in the pristine, tranquil wilderness.
Yeah, the homeless people I've watched on YouTube over the years were usually in a wilderness setting whether they had a van or they were literally just walking it with nothing. I think being out in nature away from any considerable population is probably half the battle. But when you need things like medical help, you can't exactly go and live out in the woods.
(10-08-2022, 09:05 AM)user328 Wrote: Well, I'm tired of hearing about it too. I'm tired of seeing it day in and day out. I'm tired of knowing about it. I'm tired of being down in it. Recounting the petty events of every long, dreary day isn't helping me any at all. This is not my life. Never was, never will be. So I guess I'm gonna wrap this up until I have some truly life changing news to report.
Amen Dev... I can relate to what you're saying. I really hope things start to look better soon and that a year from now, we'll be singing a different tune.
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As I mentioned earlier, Michael has a hot plate that he uses to cook for himself and the old woman he pushes. His main problem is being dependent on electricity. The few outdoor electrical outlets available almost always have cell phone enthusiasts camping on them. They crowd around the outlet near the door to the night shelter because the guest wifi is only usable near the door. Michael needs some elbow room around the hot plate while he's cooking, which means he's shit out of luck most of the time.
I've been looking for a way to boil water for things like ramen noodles and coffee and such that avoids those problems. My first idea was a charcoal starter chimney and kettle. I later decided a percolator would be better than a kettle because we could make real coffee instead of instant. The pot without the basket and syphon could still be used to boil water for other things.
While I was kicking this idea around, Shane said he could make a hobo stove from a large juice can. I looked up these so-called rocket stoves on YouTube and found that I had the tools - just a can opener - to make one too. This double wall stove is the best one I found. We can buy the juice with food stamps and only have to raise cash for the percolator.
This is the camp percolator I want to get:
https://www.walmart.com/ip/Ozark-Trail-S.../393404594
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Patience.
Shane got a 38 oz. can of Dinty Moore beef stew to use the can for a wood stove. Evidently he plans to make a single wall stove because he didn't get a smaller can for the inner wall. We'll see how it goes.
We went to the south side where there are two big thrift stores across the street from each other to look for a sauce pan and lid to fit it, and possibly a stovetop percolator. The first one had a bunch of lids with no matching pans. The selection at the other store was even poorer. There was a dollar store next to that store. We found an aluminum grease strainer and storage pot that would make a great camp pot for $6.
https://www.amazon.com/Bene-Casa-Dispens...B00BF84IGI
The pot needed to be wiped out and rinsed. That only took a few seconds. Shane was in such a hurry to have that stew out of the can and start working on the stove that he dumped the stew into a Walmart bag while I was rinsing the pot. Miraculously, it was a rare bag with no holes or leaks. He asked me if I wanted to hold onto it until the stove was ready. I told him to put it in the cooler since it was open.
I don't know what video he watched, but he made the stove with a closed top, as if to use the top as a cooking surface. None of the designs I looked at were like that. They were all designed to combust the wood gas near the top of the stove, producing no smoke.
So he stuffed the wood and kindling in from the bottom and inserted a Vienna sausage can to hold it all in. Then he set the stove down in the parking lot between my car and Scott's truck, sprayed some butane in there, and lit the fire.
And wandered off.
I'm lying across the car seats with the doors open, and I can't see the stove through the car door. I yelled for Shane and waited for him to appear. I asked him what the fire was doing. He told me, then I asked him if he was going to watch it. He said he would.
The pot of Dinty Moore is on the stove now, and Shane has wandered off again.
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