There was a horrendous late season snow storm last weekend that started some time on Friday and although it would stop periodically, the longest it ever let up was a few hours. We spent the majority of Friday and Saturday doing our best to stay warm. There was no point in trying to do anything that required driving, we had no money and the gas tank was below a quarter tank. Running the engine every few hours to stay warm meant the low fuel warning light was lit up by Sunday afternoon.
I found some Holiday gas cards we had leftover from Matrix that had about $5 between them that was exclusively for fuel and $4 or $5 that was a more general Holiday Gift Card. So Sunday Evening, $5.29 went to fuel, a little over $3 went towards two coffees, $1.06 went to a Black and Mild Cigar.
My tires are worn out summer tires, driving in snowy weather or cold weather where there’s ice on the road is ----frankly---- a bad idea if there’s the choice not to. Sunday we needed a good meal, so we headed to the free meal at the Native American Episcopal Church in South Minneapolis. However, before we could go, I needed to shovel the car out.
There was a snow bank right in front of my car. The plow had been by, it was dumping out the side and left a massive snow bank behind it. I didn’t have a shovel, so I asked our fellow car-dwelling neighbor to our right who had just cleared out the snow in front of his car if I could use his shovel. He handed me one of those dust pans attached to a handle. I took the handle off and was just using the bucket-like dust pan to scoop snow. -- -- yeah, it was going to take forever, but what else was I going to do? I got pissed at the snow and dug in, scooping and throwing as much as I reasonably could while maintaining a good speed, only stopping every few minutes to stand up and rest my back for five to ten seconds.
After 20 minutes or so, our van-dwelling neighbors parked to our left let me borrow their snow shovel as long as I gave it back and didn’t borrow it out to anyone else. So I returned the handled dustpan to our other neighbors, who I helped a little while later to push their car, which turned out to still be stuck in the snow.
Shoveling went faster with a shovel. I was still pissed at the snow, so I kept up the momentum and aggression.
Then neighbor to the left, the other one, opened the van door and asked if I was looking for a job. I said that I might be. He told me his work was looking for people assembling trusses. It paid $13 an hour and was from 6 AM - 2 PM, It’s a union job, and the manager was understanding about homeless people and would be accommodating for good workers, because the temp workers
he was getting were apparently worthless. Then he bummed me some cigarettes.
I shoveled until it was nearly done, a plow came by and picked up the last little bit. I gave the neighbors their shovel back. Mike told me more about the job, I got a number to call. I said I could call tuesday, I gave him my email and name and he said he’d call the boss and tell him.
Dinner was awesome. Buffalo and Bean Soup, Really good salad. We got stuck on our way out and like four people from the church were outside and on top of it almost the moment I realized I was stuck.
Monday we went to the clinic so Aiyana could get her prescription. We tried to get lunch at Waite House, it was closed because of the snow. I got stuck where I’d parked. I’d driven over a patch of snow, just deep enough for the underside of the car to get stuck. We had to get under to dig it out. I used my hands, Aiyana used a window scraper. All the difficulties leading up to that, and then that,
and having missed a dose of my antidepressant one of the days that weekend were starting to get to me. I got frustrated, sad, started feeling bad about myself, got close to yelling at Aiyana. Some of the things I said were hyperbolic and going in the direction of black and white thinking, negative, etc.
We got the car unstuck. I calmed down on the way to Target to get Aiyana’s meds. While we waited, we got coffee with a gift card Aiyana had gotten at the clinic. We talked, it was refocusing, put things into perspective….like the feel of no shower in over two months having a beard, having worn the same clothes for I don’t know how long, my pants I’ve been wearing since before we left GCN. My hair, which is halfway down my back is matted, dreadlocked in many places….oh, and then frequent hunger, I have a molar where a crown came off 1-2 years ago, then something I was eating 2-3 months ago got stuck to it and chipped a chunk off, it’s got a hole, it’s been sensitive, it’s the first tooth I’ve needed to get pulled. I’m afraid to get it pulled and afraid to put it off and get another abscessed tooth. I haven’t had glasses since the drive back from Georgia. I don’t have a phone (like a working phone- phone, with a sim card). My car, which is our home has a Georgia Plate, the tabs expire in June, the title is in my parents’ name,
my proof of insurance is expired….
….I’m okay, positive, upbeat most of the time. But I do need to remind myself that it’s a lot to accept and endure….whatever….to not fall into despair or hate people….to stay on my purpose, keep a clear head….protect the deep love in my heart for other people….gratitude….to be hardened and disciplined in a life that has been war for a very, very long time.
Then we went to the library, I hit a stride writing, finally. I haven’t hit in years. I’ve been writing like it’s going to a job since January, nearly every day because I had to and there was nothing else I could do. I wasn’t pushing myself to do it because it was a fun thing to do, I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other, increasing the durations I could take of solid time spent writing….and that’s about it, I never had a shortage of things to write about. I’m not insecure or concerned about my abilities at this point….I struggle with staying on topic but that’s been getting better, I challenge myself to say things as bluntly and transparent, and as directly as I can without sacrificing necessary details and information -- which is a struggle, but I value having it. I prefer it to be hard work and I prefer to take it seriously as I would a job. Jobs have moments that are fun, there are parts that are rewarding, but those aren’t things worth having expectations about when you still have to go to work either way. You still have to do a good job.
It’s what you’ve been hired to do or you get fired. ….So I hit a stride on monday, then went back to the truck stop….and continued writing….
The following morning, we went to the library. I called my potential new boss and set up an interview for 9 the next morning and then I did some more writing.
Went back to the truck stop and slept.
Woke up, went to the interview. I got the job, just needed a social security card. Went to the library, worked on shit, wrote, got a pep talk from Mike when we got back to the truck stop about getting my social security card and what to say to them….it helped.
Thursday was much of the same routine….
Today, we woke up, went to the Social Security Administration Office, got coffee on the way at the bank. Got a receipt for the card, should get it in two weeks, went to the library, emailed the boss, asked if that’d work. I made some notes longhand in a back corner, then got dinner at Creekside Community Center and then came back to the truck stop which is where I am now.
Also, I wrote Smokeless Smoking a really long email where I asked for a new ecig and some eliquid, they gave me a new Aspire Breeze, 3 bottles of Blackbird, 2 503 T-shirts, 2 hats, girl scout cookies. I hugged all of them, it was amazing.
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Tuesday, April 24, 2018
I had a brother who died six years before I was born. He was only alive for 72 days. His Headstone is in The Independent Hebrew Cemetery in Norwalk, CT. It has his name: Jonas Levi Callan; the dates he was alive: September 19, 1980 – December 1, 1980; and then a simple line drawing of a Dove. I saw it once in person, it was 1996 or 1997 following the memorial service
where my grandfather’s ashes were put to rest in the same cemetery. Myself, my mother and father, and one or both of my sisters started walking in that direction and I was told we were going to Jonas’s grave. It was the first time I observed the Jewish ritual of putting small stones on top of the headstone of a loved one. I don't remember much more of it than that.
This past winter, I found a photo of it online. I took a screenshot and saved it on my phone. It was my background and lock screen for a little over a week. I liked having it. To look at it gives me a feeling of peace that I cannot find the words to describe. It’s real. It’s evidence that he was a person who lived and died and that’s the physical marker on the earth of where his physical
remains are buried.
His death was superimposed upon my life, that I had a brother who died in infancy. He was talked about often as though he was still alive and (actively) part of the family and never went anywhere. There were implications I did not understand and a significance and association attached to him being my parents’ son who had died before I was born. His death was hung up like the prelude to my life and the shadow of death that was hung on me and my life – and my death…. and my parents’ fears, anxiety, or anticipation surrounding something just as unknown and individual as anyone else’s death, somewhere in their future.
It’s very strange, I know he died while still a baby and years before I was born; but I have visual memories of him, I can clearly see in my mind’s eye what he would look like at different stages in his life –a life that he never had. And although the memories are very real, actual memories that I have, they are not based on a physical reality that ever happened.
One time, I must have been about 5 years old, I asked my mom if they had me to replace Jonas.
She said “No,” but it was obvious to me, even then that there was more to it than that. I was filling some kind of spot in the family that was his first.
I don’t know what details surrounding his death (that I've been told)are true and what’s not. It’s taken me a few months of thinking hard on the subject, and a few very important, revealing conversations with my partner, to feel ready or comfortable enough to commit this much about it to writing.
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Tuesday, May 1, 2018 -- 4 AM
I started a new job last Wednesday building roof and floor trusses. It’s physically demanding.
After work, I sit in the car for about an hour, my arms aching, and I power nap.Me and Aiyana got to take a shower for the first time in 2 months. It feels amazing being able to clean off.
I got a message from a friend on Facebook that my father was trying to find me. It makes me mad. I survived an MN Winter being Homeless….after he made me homeless.
Fuck him. He has no right to talk to me.
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Sunday, May 20, 2018
After the ordeal, all our stuff, the auction closed one day before I got paid. I got my paycheck in hopes of saving our stuff. The person who bought the contents of our storage unit showed up before me -- -- after that, they “Requested” that our personal items be left and we’d be allowed to pick them up.
Because of my work schedule, I wasn’t able to check my email until Monday after work at the library. They’d already sent their notice that if they didn’t hear from me by 6PM that day my shit would be disposed of. So I messaged them planning to do it the following day. So Tuesday, After work, at the library, I looked up the cost of renting a van. I found out I couldn’t get one without a credit card. I asked storage if I could pay a fee for them to hold my stuff until friday. They said “no.” Wednesday was the latest.
Wednesday, after work, me and Aiyana stopped to get slushies at the gas station and then headed to Minneapolis. We tried to get a storage unit at Public Storage, right down the street, they sometimes have $1 deals. Not this time.So we headed to the storage place.
I was going to ask if they’d hold my stuff until friday, if they said “No,”
We decided to unload the car on the loading dock, get the stuff in our storage unit, then repack the car. That part went as expected and I drove around to the front entrance and was let in the gate.
When I got to the unit, it was locked, so I had to go to the office and ask them to unlock it. Ann said she’d unlock it. She got up, and had some flirty exchange with John, the manager. She unlocked it. Left me alone, I went in.
It was a relief to see among the remains of our belongings my boxes of master cassette tapes, one box of my original music, a crate of sketchbooks, notebooks, and paintings, the box of my master copies of my zines. I took 3 or 4 boxes, just what was first in line and looked important enough, I put them in the trunk and was walking back to the unit before I was
stopped by John and Ann.
“Patrick. Is that your stuff at the side of the building?”
“Yeah.”
John looked panicked and furious. “Okay, you need to get that stuff off the property now.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“No--like now. Not thirty seconds, now or I’m calling the police.”
“Okay.”
I changed directions and started walking to my car.
Ann said as I was walking away- “It looks like a train wreck.”
I didn’t respond. I drove to the exit, they opened it. I explained the situation to Aiyana, we packed the car. I noticed they told me 10 minutes before they office closed.
We put all the shit back in the car. There wasn’t room for Aiyana, she was going to meet me down the street and I was gonna ask if I could get back in. I did the block, then a u-turn on 55 and drove up to the front office, the door was locked and the lights were off and no one was there. I had the feeling not to linger because they were probably hoping they’d be able to call the cops on me anyways.
So I drove to where Aiyana was. We reassembled the car in front of an apartment complex.
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At 3am, an Edina Police Officer knocked on our car window in the parking lot of a 24 hour Walgreens. I was in a heavy sleep, I'd been working long hours every day at my new job and had just gone to the ER for foot pain, sores and what looked like an infection with open sores, redness and blisters....and my legs were so sore it was hard to walk. We went to the Walgreens to get the Prescription Antifungal Cream, I needed rest and to not use my feet or wear shoes at all....
In that moment, I did feel caught off guard in a way I have never felt when woken up by police while sleeping in my car. It's a fairly normal occurrence that will happen at some point if you are sleeping in your car enough. I'd say it's something I'm usually prepared for and that I know what to expect and how to handle it. It usually isn't even all that threatening or uncomfortable.
There was a coldness in his demeanor and a detachment that cemented after we had answered in the affirmative when he asked the question "Are you homeless?"
As I was becoming more coherent, the first recollections I have are of Aiyana explaining I'd had to go to the ER and was here picking up medicine they had prescribed and that we were napping, I had to be at work at 6am.
He asked where or what my job was. I said I was building floor and roof trusses, then not thinking about it, I was spelling out how I thought the name of the company was spelled.
He asked to see our ID's. I couldn't find my wallet or remember where I put it.
Then I heard him ask "What's that....Is that a sword?" Then I saw his flashlight angled down from the top of the window, down the side of the car door, he was looking at my work hammer. I responded "No. It's a hammer." I then pulled it out to show him.
Aiyana added "He needs it for work."
I then said something to the effect of "Oh....I guess I probably shouldn't have just pulled it out so quickly like that. "
He responded "Yeah....probably not the best...."
I then admitted I was having trouble finding my wallet. He said he would run Aiyana's expired ID, he also took down my name and Date of Birth.
I managed to find my wallet before he came back. He Ran It. It was weird he took down my name and DOB as though that would ever fill in the need for a driver's license....while presumably driving a car.... or sleeping in a car, clear that you drive, you'll be the one driving....
He then told me he wanted to talk to me outside the car. I said "Sure." I just needed to put on my shoes.
Putting on my shoes was fucked up, bungled by pain, anxiety and fear. I stumbled, tripped a little while exiting.
I was doing my very best to show him my hands and move predictably and slowly.
He asked who owned the car and if I owned the car.
I explained I owned it, however the title is in my parents' name.
He asked, motioning to Aiyana "Are you two together?"
I said "Yes."
He asked about the Lino Lakes address on my driver's license. I told him it was an old address, it was my parents' address before they moved to Georgia. He asked in regards to the GA plates, how long I had been in Minnesota. I said 1 year, adding that I was aware it was well beyond the 30 days a person is expected to get MN plates when moving from another state. At first he sounded confused by my mention of that, but then he got it.
His story was that he'd seen our car while driving by and decided to take a closer look. He said I should probably move because the store might call the police and they'd have to come and tell us we needed to go. He recommended better places, like truck stops.
He said he would hate for us to become "Victims of a Crime."
He then said something vague and detached about us being homeless and he hopes that it gets better and it's something we're willing to work on and we're able to get back on our feet.
Then he let me go.
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Thursday, May 24, 2018
I got weirdly pulled over earlier in the week by a very greenhorn cop. Aiyana had needed to go to the Dakota County Service Center to check on her health insurance. I took a nap. She didn’t take very long, but when she was done, she let me continue to rest. The security guard, who was a real cop, knocked on the window and asked if I was okay, I vaguely remember it.
While we were leaving and I was making my way to the highway, I realized I was being followed by a cop, so I was mostly driving with my eyes on the rear view mirror. 2 times, I could have turned right on red, I didn’t.
When I got pulled over, his story didn’t add up. He gave me a sobriety test and was sneaky about snooping around our car. At one point he asked if I was having problems with my eyes. I was, but I said “no.” I’ve been having problems keeping my eyes open while at work and driving.
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