What the Hell Happened to Us?

- Burt Ward as Robin in Batman: The Movie -

michael(at)dareland.com

Boo hoo
My life's a fucking wreck.
Please donate to the cause.

Posted 5/31/07

Dear anonymous,

Thanks for the thousand bucks. Here's what it bought so far.

When you're stuck up a dirt road in the desert with a landlord and sheriff locking you out of your home, the first thing you need is a car. Enterprise has a weekend special and says they'll pick you up, but not from the house in the middle of nowhere, so I hitchhiked to Palm Springs and used $250 of my son's tax refund check as a deposit on a rental. Hey, wait a minute, that wasn't your money, that was Buster's. Oh yeah, the bank put a hold on his check and I had to use up my overdraft protection, which may or may not end up being covered by you. Forget I mentioned it.

It must have been the next day, Monday, May 22, your direct deposit came through and our uncontrolled panic turned to controlled panic. First to Banning to pick up court papers, then to Indio to legal aid to see if there was any way to just postpone the whole thing. Filed papers but the clerk fucked up the dates, which would have meant two more trips to Banning when I should have been packing, not to mention the futility of trying to reverse a decision after we'd already been thrown out. I gave up on fighting to stay and headed to Angelview, a used everything store where the proceeds go to those less fortunate, which at this point is a rapidly shrinking number. A miracle, four pieces of solid luggage, an actual piece of good luck. Bought all four for $20 of yours and a wise move it was.

The sheriff evicted me but not my kids, so I continued to Palm Springs for a cat carrying case ($15), litterbox ($10) and boxes galore, some milk cartons from the back of Kmart, some empties not yet crushed from the back of Vons, and actual office boxes from Office Depot ($40). Two cell phones without a "plan" other than buying extra minutes ($100). Did laundry ($10). Called Buster. Landlord still there. Couldn't return. Paul Krassner and Nancy Cain graciously let me hang at their place in Desert Hot Springs till Buster called and declared it safe. Dinner. At a table. With adults and cloth napkins. What a trip.

Snuck back in the middle of the night and packed, getting out in the morning right before the landlord arrived. Next, a storage facility across the street from a Uhaul, rented a locker for $115 a month, then across the street for a truck and the next $100. Went back to the desert and packed the truck with all our belongings, and headed back to Desert Hot Springs, parking the truck in front of the Family Resource Center next to Kmart (clothes, another $80). Pointed out the window at all our stuff and told them we had nowhere to go. Mr. Gonzales provided us with a two day voucher at the Palm Grove Hotel in Palm Springs. We left the truck in the lot and drove there. Empty and only partially dilapidated, run by an Indian family, incense filling the living quarters behind the sign-up desk, a little kid who played catch with Max after he jumped in the freezing pool.

Thursday, Buster was exhausted from having done most of the heavy lifting loading the truck. We couldn't possibly unload it all ourselves, so I paid two guys to help, one Buster's friend, Brian, the other, Terry, who hung around the storage place looking to help. ($20 each) In another place and time, Terry would have been known as the village idiot. Gangly, frizzed out hair, simple, very simple, happy to help, obviously told by somebody to always ask for money or he would have done it all for something shiny. Returned to Palm Grove and relaxed.

Life at the Palm Grove, tacky as it was ("What's the word?...Oh, yes. Disgusting." - Review of the Palm Grove Hotel on tripadvisor.com), was an improvement over our old digs due to one thing, running water. Long showers, what a luxury. With no city water, a holding tank, and a busted pump, here's how we used to get water, five gallons at a time...

Friday our vouchers were up and Palm Grove wanted $89.00 a day, which would be a serious overspendage for staying in that shithole. Did I mention it was Memorial Day Weekend? Did I mention this was Palm Springs? Some devout Christian must explain to me why God would require me to try to find a cheap hotel room in Palm Springs on Memorial Day weekend. Vouchers, must have vouchers, promising but elusive, a frantic runaround, everyone sending me somewhere else, Gonzalez said Jewish Family Services who sent me to Michael Bell at SOS, then to Bridges of Hope, and finally to the county who gave me a once in a lifetime opportunity to get 16 days worth of hotel vouchers as long as I signed a paper saying I'd never used this service before and I'd never use it again. Fine, anything, vouchers, must have vouchers. Got 'em. Picked up Buster hanging outside the Palm Grove with all our belongings and on to the Musicland, a much nicer hotel with a kitchen up the road.

Of course at this point I hadn't returned the car that was due back on Monday, and if I didn't return it on Friday, which I didn't, I'd have to keep it till Tuesday at $40 a day that you may or may not end up paying for.

Buster's been a problem, not as a person, he's been magnificent, but as a legal entity. Scrounging for shelter has been made easier by my son Max, who is 13, and of serious concern to all social agencies. But Buster's 19, officially an adult and not a dependent. All aid has been for two beds, and I've been sleeping with Max, waking up every night with at least one elbow in the face.

His mom lives in Phoenix and has a sofa, so it's $40 for Buster's bus to Phoenix, a hell better than fate, plus $100 cash to send him on his way. Buster snuck Shelly, our tortoise, in a duffel bag and it survived the trip to Phoenix, but I have yet to discover the secret of not arriving wherever we go in a bus with a dead cat. Dropped off the car at Enterprise, who surely don't know the Captain of the Enterprise also played me, and took the bus back to Musicland.

Might I mention what a fucking disaster it is at this very moment to have a desktop computer instead of a laptop? My son's laptop picked up WIFI in a snap, but I had to actually drive to a Target to pick up one of those ubiquitous AOL disks to take advantage of their free offer to use the only dial-up number that will work from Musicland. Now I'm plugged in but we've got three pieces of luggage already, not including kitchen supplies, food, the two big boxes the computer fits in, and a cat carrying case for the cat Greyhound won't let on the bus.

Let's see, we rented DVDs ($3) to watch on the computer, there was five bucks on a new pair of truckstop sunglasses, and at least $50 on fast food plus $15 for cigarettes, $100 on gas, and a $5 deposit to use the hotel phone or I wouldn't be online right now.

The government voucher allowing me to stay in this hotel is your money, your tax money, so thanks for that too.

And that's about it. Got about $300 left, just enough to take a bus somewhere. So far there are two offers, a Buddhist retreat in Amherst, MA, but the heads of the Ashram who have to approve are in Japan and won't be back for two weeks. Our vouchers end in one week. The other offer is a fishing trawler docked in Ilwaco, WA, on the coast at the Oregon/Washington border. How do we get there with the cat? Posted a note looking for a ride on Craigs List. Got a week to save the Siamese. Slack, blessed slack, I'm actually feeling good and looking forward to an aquatic future.

How am I ever going to pay you back? How about a book called "Dear Anonymous" with the sub-head "You don't have to be a genius to go from Beverly Hills to homeless, but it helps." Other potential titles: "Who Cares?", "Autobiography of a Nobody", and "How to Cope When Absolutely Everything Goes Wrong in Your Life." My disastrous tale would make others feel good about their lives, which must look like heaven next to mine. Presuming there's no interstate contact between social agencies, I could pull this same homeless trick in every state, staying for two weeks wherever the vouchers take me. Call it "Two Years at the Taxpayer's Expense." All I need is a car, a book deal, and a laptop. Already got the golden ticket, a kid. I'd end up in jail for welfare fraud but I smell a best seller.

Can I assume you're rich? I think so, not just because of your philanthropy towards me, but because my personal definition of rich has gone through some major adjustment. Anybody who owns stock? Rich. When my son and I sit on a hilltop and look down at the city full of houses and apartments with swimming pools, we're looking at the rich people. When we sit on a bus stop waiting for a ride to our hotel room provided by you and the county and see hundreds of cars go by, we're looking at rich people, and the same for everyone at Starbucks laying out the same amount for one single cup of coffee that I just spent on a pound and a Melitta filter. Those couples walking by in clothes less than a couple years old? Rich bastards. Anyone with a store-bought haircut? Vain rich bastards.

Okay, I admit, your money bought us one single normal moment. I decided my kids deserved to feel like human beings for a fleeting wisp of time. Thursday night the main strip in Palm Springs is blocked off for a street fair, rock climbing, musicians, kettle corn, soap and incense makers, knickknack magicians and spray-paint somnambulists, art, lots of art, paintings and sculpture, lamps and bouncy houses, a vast selection of unique-abilia for the constant parade of rich people to buy. At the center, location, location, location, is a Starbucks with a giant outdoor patio right on the corner, the perfect, the only place to sit and watch it all go by, so I splurged, forgive me, let my kids pick anything they wanted from the menu, and we sat like normal people. Too normal. I had made the decision this would happen before we arrived and made a stop at a liquor store. In my pocket was a ghastly pint of some generic Bailey's Irish Cream that I added to the coffee. It was only a buck thirty, so you see, I was being thrifty with your cash even while blowing it on booze.

Is this a plea for more money? Sure, why not? Divest all your stocks and invest in me.

Just kidding. No particular crunch at this very moment. Homelessness infests your ability to plan with a case of reckless insecurity. Planning a year ahead? Yeah, right. Planning a month ahead? Gimme a break. Planning a week ahead can be done, but only with a lot of concentration. Planning a day ahead happens on its own. Here's my tomorrow.

I got a speeding ticket rushing Buster to the bus station through a deserted stretch of road where a cop was hiding. They got my drivers license and asked if that was my current address. Talk about a loaded question. "Nope, it was our address yesterday but not now, now we're homeless and broke in a rented car trying to get out of town before the last bus at three, and we have no possible way of paying this ticket which will go to warrant and fuck up our lives even further when I end up in jail and the state has to pick up the bill of sending my son to a foster home, all because I was doing something both of us know was perfectly safe. Do you really think my life deserves to be ruined even further because of this minor infraction or are you so seriously devoted to bringing in your quota that you're drained of all human compassion and decency?"

If I were rich or even normal, I'd just pay the damn thing and forget about it, but instead it's a potentially life altering crisis. I'm down to three hundred bucks, barely enough for our bus to the fishing boat. I should spend it on a moving violation or go to jail? I hate shit like this. Just what I need.

I have to take the 111 bus to Cathedral city tomorrow to re-up our vouchers for the weekend. It's a hassle to keep going back to the county office but one understands why they don't just hand out 16 day vouchers all at once. We could end up leaving before the time is up and then there's this wasted empty room. After the county office, I'm continuing east on 111 to the Indio courthouse to fight the ticket because if not now, when? The date on the ticket I'm supposed to appear is in June. Who knows where I'll be in June. I've prepared the following speech...

"Your honor, the address on that ticket is incorrect. I haven't owned a car in five years and I'm currently homeless. I rented a car to move all my belongings into storage. It was the first time I'd driven in more than a year so I was a bit rusty, but I believe I was driving at a safe speed consistent with the rest of the traffic. I have no money and no way to attend driving school or do community service. I'm currently living at a hotel with my kids with a voucher from the county (show the voucher). I have no forwarding address and have no idea where we will be next week, but it will certainly be out of this county and probably out of this state. If we can't settle this now, it will go to warrant. I ask that you dismiss this now so I can start a new life and eventually come back to my home state without fear of being arrested due to one stupid mistake."

I've decided the look I should go for is disheveled but clean, needing a haircut, worn clothes, plucky but humble, as if I have a choice.

So there's your update. We're alive and I've actually got time to write.

Hey, here's an investment tip. Buy $100,000 worth of those new "forever" postage stamps. Their worth can only go up, probably appreciating at about 5% a year, and you can leave them to your kids without any inheritance or gift taxes.

There, I just made you your thousand bucks back.

"Never go anywhere without your molecules."

- Wacko, Yacko, and Dot -

"It's only when the tide goes out you learn who's been swimming naked."

- Warren Buffett -

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him to use the internet and he won't bother you for weeks."

- Xarvon, alien investigator -

Message to future residents of Musicland room 109: I see you found our lost python. His name is Monty. Sorry about that.

Page created on 7/21/2007 so I must still be alive.
Oh yeah, there'll be updates.