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"It Doesn't Get Much Worse Than This (A Haruo/River Homeless Story)
Nikkei_Simmer
Posts: 9,428 Member
Chapter One; (Part One)
"The Other Shoe Drops"
Homeless; it’s a word that conjures up fear in its most primal form. You are exposed, vulnerable. You have no succor from the stress of whether you are going to live to see the sun rise. And the rising of the sun is cold comfort for it only brings about yet another long day, sometimes fruitless of looking for food; the very nutrients that serve to sustain you in this miserable existence. The rain beats down on you as you sleep; you are always cold and at the mercy of the elements.
People always say that it’s bad life choices that brings the threat of homelessness. But that is only true for the drug addicts and 🐸🐸🐸🐸 (chronic alcoholics - because EA censors that other word).
Not every homeless person has met his current situation at the pointy end of a needle filled with psychotropic drugs or by staring down the bottom of an alcohol bottle in a bleary haze to kill the pain.
Circumstances: a lost job because the owner thinks of his workers as checks and balances against a spreadsheet and needs to lose a few expenses to buy his next Mercedes (a penny saved is a penny earned, so they say); overwhelming grief over a beloved spouse lost to a life-threatening illness or an unfortunate accident that consumes the surviving spouse in a haze of unresolved what-ifs and wondering if it is worthwhile to even go on any longer after one loses the one person in their life that meant everything to them (they just give up on life); a landlord looking to renovict or turnover tenants, jacks up his rental rates to the point where his tenants have no place to go other than the streets because the other landlords seeing him jack up his rents causes them to jack up theirs in turn in order to compete.
Life is cutthroat and it appears that there is no room in the pillars of success for those who have empathy. Because very few have it in them who are in a position to help those who suffer and very few are willing to stick their necks out for those who are less fortunate than they are.
For me and my wife, it was the last. Our last landlord decided to jack my rents up to over §1200 a month and thus we were forced to find our next accommodation on a 5x5 plot of land somewhere in countryside. Because law enforcement will tell you to move along, you’re at their mercy. If you get a good cop, you’ll get off with a warning against loitering. If you get a bad one, you’ll get a ticket that since you’re homeless and you don’t have any money to pay it off other than by pan-handling and diving in dumpsters trying to look for things to sell for a quick simoleon, you end up a criminal and get hauled off to the cooler or Crowbar Hotel for a few until they deem you rehabilitated to the point where they feel you won’t be a menace to society just for trying to survive. Society can be a real 🐸🐸🐸🐸 to those just trying to survive. So far we’ve been lucky enough to run into the cops who are nice enough to just tell us to be on our way and not make our life any harder than it is. But they’ve also told us that there are some 🐸🐸🐸🐸 who will go out of their way to ticket you and make your life tough just for their own 🐸🐸🐸🐸 and giggles.
Let’s not get into how society treats those who are unfortunate enough to be both homeless and disabled. Both River and I are able-bodied. We can work, we can rummage through things and make ends meet, however it’s always a narrow line between trespassing and survival. The shop-keepers don’t like us rummaging through their stuff and the cops are always on our 🐸🐸🐸🐸 telling us to begone and don’t scare the paying customers who if they are willing enough will toss us a few simoleons so that we can buy a bite to eat. We mostly survive on fruits and vegetables that are one day from going bad thanks to the magnanimity of a shop-keeper who was once homeless himself and knew exactly what we’re going through.
Not everyone is capable of working in those money-making positions. Everyone has their strengths. Those who haven’t found theirs yet haven’t had the luck in their life to get a chance to know what they truly are good at. And mainly that’s due to finances. The almighty simoleon. You need to be able to have money to get the post-secondary education to put yourself in a position where you can find out what it is that you’re truly good at; if you don’t you’re destined for scudwork and being at the mercy of your boss’s magnanimity. If he likes you, you’re ok till he doesn’t like you. If you don’t have the simoleons, you don’t have power; buying or control over the course of your own destiny.
For us, we knew we needed to find shelter; the 10x10 plot of land that we were occupying wasn’t enough to build anything on and the only thing that we could put on it was a bench that one could nap on for a few hours at a time, taking turns. I don’t believe that anyone could get a decent night’s sleep. And breaking in anywhere such as the firestation to use their facilities was an absolute no-no. So...we had nowhere else other than to fish for our food and hope the conservation officers wouldn’t catch us because that would yet be another §5000 fine that we couldn’t pay. Loitering was §250.
The instant we found ourselves homeless the more we found that money, food and shelter were the primary things that were the most important, whether it came from hustling those who had money (pan-handling) or digging through the dumpsters for things to sell. I hadn’t gotten desperate enough to steal a car yet. And hopefully I never get to that point. It certainly wasn’t a situation I would wish on anyone at all. River and I were starting to get to know all the places where we could find free food – on the trees, which would allow us to at least take the edge of the constant hunger that we had. It would also give us extra food that didn’t go bad at least – it would be eaten long before it went bad. At least it was something and water was free, at least until Nestle decides to monetize it so that only the rich would be able to consume it and the rest of us are condemned to drink polluted water like those in the third world.
Unfortunately it seems in this world that everything is monetized up to and including life itself. Insurance companies end up offering you coverage based on how much they think you’re worth and it can be a real eye-opener when it comes to that. You think you can earn about $2.5M over the course of your life time at a certain wage per hour, well your insurance company things you can only earn about 2/3rds of your calculation and bases your insurance payout based on that while jacking up your life-insurance monthly payments to them. And the company life insurance that River and I had, well, we lost it the moment that they fired us for being homeless. So frankly the idea that it’s all drugs and bad choices that lead to homelessness is a load of horse manure and compassion is in short supply.
River and I stood for a long moment wondering how it all came to this. The simple fact that we found out via letter that our rent went from §900.00 to §1200.00 and the rent was payable on the first of the month which was in three days. Our savings were minimal since we had to eat and pay for our car expenses (gas and insurance) which came out in total to about §225.00. And at that job, my wife was making $1100.00 and I was making §975.00 which meant an influx of §2075/mo. On top of that. Being billed for cable and internet which ran us around §260.00/mo did not leave us very much at the end of it all. And now we had §0.00 income. So when you did the math, §2075 less §900 for rent less §225 for car insurance and the minimal gas that we could get and less §260.00 for cable and internet for the minimal enjoyment that we could get out of that since River and I didn’t go out to the movies or eat out much at all; in total came out to what was left of §690.00 which barely fed both of us including lunches and dinner. So frankly when the bill came that they were raising the rent by §300.00 it took half our food budget right off the table.
It’s easy to say well, cut your internet and cable. But to deny someone any sort of enjoyment of life and condemn them to drudging through life without anything to keep them from going stark-raving insane (all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy) is what is known as psychological torture. We only live once and what enjoyment we get in life is what gets us through the day. It is easy for those who already have life’s good stuff to say, “Deny yourself this, get rid of the internet, get rid of your cell phone. It’s eating money you can’t afford.” It’s another thing for them to have done it; and when they complain about how high their bills are and you ask them, “Well, why don’t you get rid of that second home that you own, or your secondary car? “Well...I need that second car? Do you really? Or, “I need the income from the secondary home...”. Well, if it’s going to be such a drain on your resources, then why do you have it anyways? Why not get rid of it and just save the money and put it away in an investment somewhere where it will grow money?” “No, I can afford it...”
Well then quit complaining about how high your bills are then; just shut up and pay it. You put yourself into that position, now quit complaining. Oh wait... You don't like that kind of attitude directed at you, do you? See you want sympathy. See what I mean about the road going both ways? The answer is because they don’t want to cut their expenses even if they know that they'll save money that way. They get too much enjoyment out of being able to be able to complain and whine about their financial situation because they wanted to keep up with the Joneses whereas those who have need of their internet because of their situation is fixed that they need it because society is changing. They have been placed in a position where they aren’t able to function without the internet in their home. Everybody now uses online-banking, everybody no longer uses payphones, jobs expect e-mailed resumes, they no longer want you to walk into their place of business and hand them a paper resume. The paper resume goes directly into the circular bin. So what’s the choice. The libraries don’t want you to upload files through their computers for fear of viruses. 🐸🐸🐸🐸 if you do, 🐸🐸🐸🐸 if you don’t. These are the thoughts that run through River’s and my head as we sit here in the rain wondering what our life has come to.
“Well, at least we have our cellphones, right, honey?” I say sardonically to my wife.
River lets out a sarcastic snort of laughter (or was it a bitter snort? A flash of anger goes through me as I see that her faith in humanity is wavering). At least her humor is still intact. I love my wife. She’s the one that’s carrying me through this. If I didn’t have her, I’d be lost in a state of depression so deep I wouldn’t be able to see the other end of this.
The only thing that we can do is hide out in our tent and hope to hell that the rain lets up in a couple of hours so that we could go out food hunting in the community gardens. And frankly the fact that the rain is keeping the summer temperatures down is a godsend.
TO BE CONTINUED...
"The Other Shoe Drops"
Homeless; it’s a word that conjures up fear in its most primal form. You are exposed, vulnerable. You have no succor from the stress of whether you are going to live to see the sun rise. And the rising of the sun is cold comfort for it only brings about yet another long day, sometimes fruitless of looking for food; the very nutrients that serve to sustain you in this miserable existence. The rain beats down on you as you sleep; you are always cold and at the mercy of the elements.
People always say that it’s bad life choices that brings the threat of homelessness. But that is only true for the drug addicts and 🐸🐸🐸🐸 (chronic alcoholics - because EA censors that other word).
Not every homeless person has met his current situation at the pointy end of a needle filled with psychotropic drugs or by staring down the bottom of an alcohol bottle in a bleary haze to kill the pain.
Circumstances: a lost job because the owner thinks of his workers as checks and balances against a spreadsheet and needs to lose a few expenses to buy his next Mercedes (a penny saved is a penny earned, so they say); overwhelming grief over a beloved spouse lost to a life-threatening illness or an unfortunate accident that consumes the surviving spouse in a haze of unresolved what-ifs and wondering if it is worthwhile to even go on any longer after one loses the one person in their life that meant everything to them (they just give up on life); a landlord looking to renovict or turnover tenants, jacks up his rental rates to the point where his tenants have no place to go other than the streets because the other landlords seeing him jack up his rents causes them to jack up theirs in turn in order to compete.
Life is cutthroat and it appears that there is no room in the pillars of success for those who have empathy. Because very few have it in them who are in a position to help those who suffer and very few are willing to stick their necks out for those who are less fortunate than they are.
For me and my wife, it was the last. Our last landlord decided to jack my rents up to over §1200 a month and thus we were forced to find our next accommodation on a 5x5 plot of land somewhere in countryside. Because law enforcement will tell you to move along, you’re at their mercy. If you get a good cop, you’ll get off with a warning against loitering. If you get a bad one, you’ll get a ticket that since you’re homeless and you don’t have any money to pay it off other than by pan-handling and diving in dumpsters trying to look for things to sell for a quick simoleon, you end up a criminal and get hauled off to the cooler or Crowbar Hotel for a few until they deem you rehabilitated to the point where they feel you won’t be a menace to society just for trying to survive. Society can be a real 🐸🐸🐸🐸 to those just trying to survive. So far we’ve been lucky enough to run into the cops who are nice enough to just tell us to be on our way and not make our life any harder than it is. But they’ve also told us that there are some 🐸🐸🐸🐸 who will go out of their way to ticket you and make your life tough just for their own 🐸🐸🐸🐸 and giggles.
Let’s not get into how society treats those who are unfortunate enough to be both homeless and disabled. Both River and I are able-bodied. We can work, we can rummage through things and make ends meet, however it’s always a narrow line between trespassing and survival. The shop-keepers don’t like us rummaging through their stuff and the cops are always on our 🐸🐸🐸🐸 telling us to begone and don’t scare the paying customers who if they are willing enough will toss us a few simoleons so that we can buy a bite to eat. We mostly survive on fruits and vegetables that are one day from going bad thanks to the magnanimity of a shop-keeper who was once homeless himself and knew exactly what we’re going through.
Not everyone is capable of working in those money-making positions. Everyone has their strengths. Those who haven’t found theirs yet haven’t had the luck in their life to get a chance to know what they truly are good at. And mainly that’s due to finances. The almighty simoleon. You need to be able to have money to get the post-secondary education to put yourself in a position where you can find out what it is that you’re truly good at; if you don’t you’re destined for scudwork and being at the mercy of your boss’s magnanimity. If he likes you, you’re ok till he doesn’t like you. If you don’t have the simoleons, you don’t have power; buying or control over the course of your own destiny.
For us, we knew we needed to find shelter; the 10x10 plot of land that we were occupying wasn’t enough to build anything on and the only thing that we could put on it was a bench that one could nap on for a few hours at a time, taking turns. I don’t believe that anyone could get a decent night’s sleep. And breaking in anywhere such as the firestation to use their facilities was an absolute no-no. So...we had nowhere else other than to fish for our food and hope the conservation officers wouldn’t catch us because that would yet be another §5000 fine that we couldn’t pay. Loitering was §250.
The instant we found ourselves homeless the more we found that money, food and shelter were the primary things that were the most important, whether it came from hustling those who had money (pan-handling) or digging through the dumpsters for things to sell. I hadn’t gotten desperate enough to steal a car yet. And hopefully I never get to that point. It certainly wasn’t a situation I would wish on anyone at all. River and I were starting to get to know all the places where we could find free food – on the trees, which would allow us to at least take the edge of the constant hunger that we had. It would also give us extra food that didn’t go bad at least – it would be eaten long before it went bad. At least it was something and water was free, at least until Nestle decides to monetize it so that only the rich would be able to consume it and the rest of us are condemned to drink polluted water like those in the third world.
Unfortunately it seems in this world that everything is monetized up to and including life itself. Insurance companies end up offering you coverage based on how much they think you’re worth and it can be a real eye-opener when it comes to that. You think you can earn about $2.5M over the course of your life time at a certain wage per hour, well your insurance company things you can only earn about 2/3rds of your calculation and bases your insurance payout based on that while jacking up your life-insurance monthly payments to them. And the company life insurance that River and I had, well, we lost it the moment that they fired us for being homeless. So frankly the idea that it’s all drugs and bad choices that lead to homelessness is a load of horse manure and compassion is in short supply.
River and I stood for a long moment wondering how it all came to this. The simple fact that we found out via letter that our rent went from §900.00 to §1200.00 and the rent was payable on the first of the month which was in three days. Our savings were minimal since we had to eat and pay for our car expenses (gas and insurance) which came out in total to about §225.00. And at that job, my wife was making $1100.00 and I was making §975.00 which meant an influx of §2075/mo. On top of that. Being billed for cable and internet which ran us around §260.00/mo did not leave us very much at the end of it all. And now we had §0.00 income. So when you did the math, §2075 less §900 for rent less §225 for car insurance and the minimal gas that we could get and less §260.00 for cable and internet for the minimal enjoyment that we could get out of that since River and I didn’t go out to the movies or eat out much at all; in total came out to what was left of §690.00 which barely fed both of us including lunches and dinner. So frankly when the bill came that they were raising the rent by §300.00 it took half our food budget right off the table.
It’s easy to say well, cut your internet and cable. But to deny someone any sort of enjoyment of life and condemn them to drudging through life without anything to keep them from going stark-raving insane (all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy) is what is known as psychological torture. We only live once and what enjoyment we get in life is what gets us through the day. It is easy for those who already have life’s good stuff to say, “Deny yourself this, get rid of the internet, get rid of your cell phone. It’s eating money you can’t afford.” It’s another thing for them to have done it; and when they complain about how high their bills are and you ask them, “Well, why don’t you get rid of that second home that you own, or your secondary car? “Well...I need that second car? Do you really? Or, “I need the income from the secondary home...”. Well, if it’s going to be such a drain on your resources, then why do you have it anyways? Why not get rid of it and just save the money and put it away in an investment somewhere where it will grow money?” “No, I can afford it...”
Well then quit complaining about how high your bills are then; just shut up and pay it. You put yourself into that position, now quit complaining. Oh wait... You don't like that kind of attitude directed at you, do you? See you want sympathy. See what I mean about the road going both ways? The answer is because they don’t want to cut their expenses even if they know that they'll save money that way. They get too much enjoyment out of being able to be able to complain and whine about their financial situation because they wanted to keep up with the Joneses whereas those who have need of their internet because of their situation is fixed that they need it because society is changing. They have been placed in a position where they aren’t able to function without the internet in their home. Everybody now uses online-banking, everybody no longer uses payphones, jobs expect e-mailed resumes, they no longer want you to walk into their place of business and hand them a paper resume. The paper resume goes directly into the circular bin. So what’s the choice. The libraries don’t want you to upload files through their computers for fear of viruses. 🐸🐸🐸🐸 if you do, 🐸🐸🐸🐸 if you don’t. These are the thoughts that run through River’s and my head as we sit here in the rain wondering what our life has come to.
“Well, at least we have our cellphones, right, honey?” I say sardonically to my wife.
River lets out a sarcastic snort of laughter (or was it a bitter snort? A flash of anger goes through me as I see that her faith in humanity is wavering). At least her humor is still intact. I love my wife. She’s the one that’s carrying me through this. If I didn’t have her, I’d be lost in a state of depression so deep I wouldn’t be able to see the other end of this.
The only thing that we can do is hide out in our tent and hope to hell that the rain lets up in a couple of hours so that we could go out food hunting in the community gardens. And frankly the fact that the rain is keeping the summer temperatures down is a godsend.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Always "River McIrish" ...and maybe some Bebe Hart. ~innocent expression~
3
Comments
I don’t know if my faith is being truly tested at this point, but frankly, it’s taking a lot to remain in such a position. The old saying of “There are no atheists in foxholes.”; well you have a mix when it comes to the homeless. There are ones that think that “the Watcher is a figment of one’s imagination, there can’t be a Watcher this malevolent to put us through this.” and then there are those who hope that “the Watcher will bring us through this...and into a better life.”
Our first job considering that we had nothing to our name was to go make sure that we had food in our stomachs and that meant raiding the fruit trees that weren’t the property of someone else. They also say poverty shows us who our friends really are. Because when life throws you a haymaker, everyone else ducks for cover in hopes that they don’t get hit...or they don’t catch what you have – the horrific malady of poverty might be catching.
We hesitated to even look at dumpster diving because of the smell that it imparts to your clothing but when one gets desperate enough. Well...one has to deal with the smell in favor of the items that one can potentially collect from the dumpsters. Selling a good couch or two on consignment might put at least §600 simoleons in one’s pocket which might give us a chance to put some money away provided the banks would allow a pair of smelly people into their establishment. The only way that we had to get through this was to chock money aside to make sure that we were able to save some money and be able to pull ourselves out of this position that we were in.
Talking to the consignment store owner allowed us to put two items on consignment a day of anything that we could locate at least until he was sure that we were able to give him something of value. We’d sell the two highest value items that we could and drop the rest. And we could sell insects at the science center, but even there was a limit. It had to be a value of minimum uncommon. The common insects had to be let go as there was no value in them. Fines were tabulated and at the end of the month they were added to the total taxes...and if one couldn’t pay them then things were taken from us.
The fines were levied as followed:
Selling Government Controlled Elements (Tiberium or Plutonium) - §50,000.00 and government seizure of all substances (in possession)
Selling Government Protected Species (Falcon, Spotted Sixam) - §10,000.00
Poaching - §5,000.00
Prostitution - §2,500.00
Polluting a Waterway - §1,800.00
Pets causing damage (digging up holes) - §1,500.00
Garbage - §800.00
Dog /Cat with no License – §800.00
Dog/Cat off Leash - §500.00
Loitering - §250.00
Licenses - Government License to sell Minerals - §25,000.00 (paid up front to be able to sell gemstones and metals.
Fishing License – §2500.00
For owning pets one faced other levies. Dog license – §800.00
Cat license - §300.00
Yes, society had a way of making things tough for the homeless to do anything. If one wanted to have a pet to while away the time and keep one company, then you had to pay out the nose. You couldn’t just have an unlicensed dog or cat or one would end up having the pet get taken away. And frankly, the fact that society cared more for the welfare of the animal than the human who was on the street, showed just exactly how society thought that those who were on the street were nothing more than vermin on par with rats, cockroaches and other disease-carrying scum.
When we had a job, we were able to take care of our appearance, wear decent clothes provided that we got them at an outlet store. Clothes, again, were expensive and we didn’t go out every other week to buy new clothes. Frankly, River and I wore the things until they were nearly threadbare and needed replacing. Clothes weren’t really all that important, you can find clothing practically anywhere. The important thing was that we had a way to communicate (the internet) and a way to call and let the spouse know that we were going to be late (cell phone)...and a way to get from point A to point B...the car...and well...after we became homeless, we had to sell the car and we took what we could get for it, which was less than §5,000 which bankrolled our tent, a firepit and a small financial base from which to make sure that for the first little while we weren’t going to be starving to death. It was a matter of making what was left over grow into a bit of a nest egg to restart our lives in a better financial position than what we were in.
We also still had to look for work, but who was going to hire a pair of homeless bums on the street? Society’s trust of us went when our money and roof over our head went. If you were out on the street, you were untrustworthy according to society whether the assumption was true or false. If you weren’t able to be trusted, you sure as hell weren’t going to get a job that paid you anything that gave you enough to live on. The owner figured that you were going to raid his cash box and float the first chance you got. With all that aligned against someone who had no roof over their head, was it any wonder that people turned to hard drugs and alcohol to cope with the stress and the emotional pain of trying to eke out an existence? Hey, it may not be the best choice in the world but whatever gets you through the day, right?
But no, River and I weren’t going to resort to that. We were going to fight tooth and nail for what we could. Even if we had to dumpster dive, risking hepatitis and other potential illnesses just to put some money in our pockets. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. The fruits and vegetables coming off the trees and plants were not to be sold, they ended up in our pockets as food for us. We could sell fish to the market by poaching them from the lakes, rivers and ocean, provided the Department of Fisheries and Oceans didn’t catch us. It was a dice roll whether they would catch us or not. And we could consign things that we found provided that we could vouch for their quality.
It was going to be a struggle and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy, but River and I were not going to go down without a fight.
Always "River McIrish" ...and maybe some Bebe Hart. ~innocent expression~
When the dawn rose on the next day; it was met with a determination that we wouldn’t concede to defeat. We chose to press on with our attempts to get items to consign. At first all we were getting were cheap items, perfume, wish-you tissues (By the Watcher, who throws out those things?), stuff that we wouldn’t be able to get anything for. Those went directly back into the dumpster. Or sold off to a passerby. “Hey ya need a box of kleenex, maybe a half used bottle of Chanel No. 5? Five simol...”
“Ewwww get that thing away from me, Are you kidding me?” Well, so much for that entrepreneurial tack...
As our dumpster diving experience grew, we were able to grab things like a lamp or a rug that would sell for more simoleons when consigned. Hey, at least it was an illuminating experience owing as to how much we could smell with our heads in the dumpster. And we left a yucky green stench trail as we walked home. If it wasn’t for the fact that we had to deal with the smell because we didn’t have a shower yet to speak of, we would have gladly used an inordinate amount of water to clean the disgusting scent off us. Let’s face it, we frankly stunk. And frankly, if I were a proprietor, I wouldn’t serve us either. It was more than revolting. River and I oft-wondered if we’d ever get the smell off us.
The tent got hot and muggy too. There was no air-conditioner to cool us down. Even if we had one we didn’t have a generator to use electricity and to tell you the truth, with gas prices at §1.72 a liter, it was uneconomical. If you put in 2 gallons of gas for maybe four hours of running...you’d be spending in the neighbourhood of §16 and what would that get you? An iota’s worth of cooling and then you’re back to being hot and miserable again. Trying to gain sixteen simoleons was practically a hit or miss option when it came to finding stuff in the dumpster that might give us a leg up. And the costs of furniture and other items that one needed to start building a house let alone buying a lot sizeable enough to live on were astronomical and the large earning potential options were capped with sizable fines if you took the route of poaching a spotted sixam or a falcon which would nail you a §10K Department of Wildlife and Fisheries fine for sale of a restricted and protected species or consigned a plutonium or tiberium which would more than likely net you a §50,000 fine plus seizure of all restricted items in your possession. So no...one would prefer not to have something like that happen. The §42K top consignment proceeds limit of a tiberium large spire wasn’t worth getting nailed by a §50K fine. We’d have to watch our dog or cat if we ever got either and make sure he/she dropped his/her find somewhere where no-one would know we’d had (past-tense) one in our possession. Shhhhhh...
Only in the interior rural areas were we able to get some respite from the imposition of the law enforcement that seemed to permeate the urban areas...they would make your life miserable by fining you for all sorts of infractions. If you dropped garbage on the ground instead of in a waste receptacle, they’d nail you for that. If you loitered a bit too long at a location or sat down to use a park bench, they’d hustle you along, telling you to “beat it...” If you were homeless, you weren’t human, according to them. And thus, you were stuck being miserable, out in the elements and in the cold or the heat depending on the season. So we were here in Appaloosa Plains watching the rich people with the horses and farms going off to do whatever it was they do; riding lessons, horse racing, etc. Who knew, all we knew was that we didn’t have that kind of money. Maybe we could bet on the horse races if we had the money to, but we didn’t. Money was too precious to come by and most of it went into our stomachs trying to keep up enough strength to get up and do what we had to do the following day. Maybe life would get better; maybe it wouldn’t. The only thing one could do is just keep getting up the following day and keep trudging through. At least that would make things a bit better in the end...hopefully. At least that was the hope.
In any case, River and I tried to keep our spirits up, whether it was using the cover of a good bush area near a water source to swim in...and at least hope that no-one saw us trying to bathe there. There was also a substantial fine for polluting a waterway. But if you didn’t get clean, you didn’t stay healthy. And becoming sick was a quick trip to the morgue if you were homeless. Colds could quickly turn into flu, flu could quickly turn into pneumonia, pneumonia could lead to lung and organ shut-down. You’d be placed into an in-ground group plot with a bunch of other no-names and no-one could care anything about who you were, what you were about, and why you came to be that way. If you’re a homeless person, you end up being a non-person.
So, River and I took every possible opportunity to stay clean, stay close to a water source and found a way to decontaminate water whether it was via a Puri-Straw that took river-water and purified it to potable/drinkable standards.
We had a cooler so that we could use it to keep stuff if we were lucky enough to have money enough to buy ice...but it didn’t last more than a day so we could only use it on a hot day to keep just enough perishables cool to eat for that day. Then we were back to square one. On the other hand, it could keep enough water in the cooler so that we had drinkable water for a day or two if we boiled it or drank it through the purifying straw.
Our routine became one of get up...eat a fruit or two (an apple) and then go to the nearest orchard to try to see if we could get some more fruits for the next day. We couldn’t get into the firehall and the leisure center wouldn’t allow us in either, so our only bet was to use the washroom facilities at the park and they were closed from 11:00PM to 7:00AM which made things really troublesome if we had to go in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to end up needing the use of the facilities. It was either break in (which was illegal) to the firehall or the leisure center or just find a convenient bush to use as a toilet which might net you a fine for indecent exposure. After all, if you gotta go, ya gotta go.
If one couldn’t, then well, other problems propped up...such as kidney failure – dialysis and eventually death. But then nobody really cares, do they? It’s just a homeless person, not an asset to society, anyways.
Always "River McIrish" ...and maybe some Bebe Hart. ~innocent expression~
There were countless roadblocks to the homeless getting back on their feet and society never acknowledged it. If you don’t have ID, you can’t get benefits to get an income stream to stay healthy enough to go and find work. If you haven’t eaten in several days, you’re going to be in no condition to search for work. If you’re not clean because you haven’t got a place to shower. , the door’s slammed shut on you practically immediately. “Thanks for coming, next! Hey, secretary, ditch this guy’s resume in the circular file. I’m not having him stink up my joint.” Even for those with government health care, if you don’t have an ID, you can’t prove that you’re entitled to health benefits so you’re SOL. And nowadays, it’s getting so that you have to have yourself an online ID in addition to your card just to prove exactly who you say you are; just to access anything government related. So if you have no computer, or smart-phone or heaven forbid, you’ve lost your physical ID, how exactly are you going to prove that you are who you say you are?
Like I can say that I’m Haruo Chikamori, but the only thing that proves that I am who I am is sitting in my pocket in my wallet; a nice government issued identification card that I had to stand in line for forty five minutes for just so that I could show another government issued ID (my social insurance number) so that I could prove that I was who I said I was in duplicate form. And Watcher help me if some pickpocket decides to lift that vaunted government issue identification out of my pocket. In fact, the governments are getting so paranoid that they’re now wanting triplicate identification which means you have to own a smartphone since you’re expected to have provincial “internet”-based identification as well to prove that you are who you say you are.
So...that puts us in the lovely position of:
So now...I have to have a smart-phone to prove that I can prove that I can prove that I am who I say I am...because my picture ID card isn’t good enough to prove that I am who I say I am even with identification in pictorial form...and even when I had to show yet another card (my SIN – see a lovely little acronym...with a nine-digit ID number)...to prove that I can prove that I am who I say I am? Are you 🐸🐸🐸🐸 kidding me?
...completely flummoxed now? And you need all that 🐸🐸🐸🐸 to “go get yourself a job, ya lazy bum!!!”
George Carlin was right... Never underestimate the power of stupid people...and bureaucrats.
So its easy for those entitled sitting in a nice home and a comfy cushy existence to say, “If you’re homeless...go get yourself a job.” So that’s why homeless panhandle and look through dumpsters. Because the barriers that society places on gaining gainful employment are so high that it’s pointless to even bother when you have to jump through oxymoronic hoops just so that you can get yourself some picture ID...and if you don’t have your birth certificate (which you may have lost or had had stolen) and you’re looking for your next meal out of a dumpster, there’s no way that you can get a replacement. So tell me this. How does one go about replacing your picture ID when you need a birth certificate which you also don’t have and to get the replacement birth certificate, you have to have a picture ID? Isn’t that just running around in circles? Or you can have a friend vouch for you at a registered notary who will give you a government approved and notarized document to present saying that so and so Goodheart said that you are who you say you are. Good luck with that as all your friends have headed for the high-road the second you got fired and ended up homeless. You think you have friends? No, you don’t and you only have so many hours in a day and if you have to use every minute of your day to look for food, how are you going to rustle up the time to go get your ID situation straightened out? And, well, if you haven’t eaten for three days straight, you’re in no condition to wield a pick-axe for eight hours straight let alone look for a job anyways.
If you have friends who stuck with you while you were homeless? Make sure you hang on to them because they’re the true friends...and not leeches hanging on waiting for your opportunity to make it rich.
River and I, despite everything, that had been thrown at us have tried to stay optimistic; that maybe eventually someone will give us a chance and let her have a job and I can find a way to make an income too and maybe we’ll get back on our feet, somehow. We took the little moments that we had in order to be able to keep our spirits up, kisses, hugs, making out and well...hey, we were married after-all...woohoo...although that in itself was a risk considering we didn’t have the income to support a child. But sometimes, you just need solace and we took comfort in each other; the feel of each other as we took and gave pleasure to each other.
We sold our cameras, so unfortunately, there was no way for us to buy another one so that I could pursue photography. And photography was a rather iffy proposition. Even if you had the skills, it all hinged on how much business sense you had. If you couldn’t field a logical business proposal, you were pretty much tied to the ground in terms of getting your business up off it.
We’d tied our lives together for better or for worse and well, River now knew just how much worse it was in terms of our financial situation. Unfortunately, it was going to be a long hard slog through the muck of homelessness and the fact that we had nothing left of the life that we had when we both had good-paying jobs. In fact, the stress would have led anyone lesser to drink themselves to the point of inebriation...and/or find themselves some chemical cathartic release.
But in that way the demon lies and we were not going to mess up our lives any worse than it already was. It wasn’t worth it. The malevolent lure of drugs was always a battle on the streets. Too much stress can do bad things to one’s health but that temptation of letting go of one’s stress in a drug-induced haze of minimal relief but instant gratification tied itself to much greater stress on one’s body and an even worse health outcome in the end.
So our best bet was just to “Say No” to drugs and alcohol and just try to use life itself as our drug of choice. Whatever life threw at us was going to be what caused our ups and our downs not some cocktail of stimulant with some obscure chemical makeup. We’ll stick with good ol’ H2O thank you. Good ol’ water, you can count on it to hydrate you, even if you weren’t a plant-sim.
...most of the time. Of course if you drank polluted water, it could potentially give you the runs...and that could do the direct opposite of what water is supposed to do and dehydrate you to the point of organ collapse. Hence the reason why River and I always made sure that we either used the purification tablets and purification straws or we took water from the river and boiled the living heck out of it before drinking it or using it for cooking.
When we headed up to do anything, we’d duck through the festival park because there were always flowers to pick – at least that hadn’t been legislated to hell and back and we were able to pick a few items to sell off. I had put one in at the consignment and it sold for a pretty penny. Unfortunately, a few of our consignment items didn’t do so well, so it wasn’t too great for us. Until we could gather together the money to license ourselves as government authorized gem-sellers, we couldn’t do anything with the gemstones that we found in the dumpster. So the only thing that we could do was collect them. And the government wanted you to pay §25,000.00 up front to be able to sell these things as an authorized seller. But at least that was a one time fee. We could hawk them but we’d only get a fraction of the price of these gemstones as opposed to ones that were cut and polished. So I’d found an amethyst in the dumpster...
...and I couldn’t do anything with it in any case. We were stuck hanging on to it until we’d gathered together the money for licensing as an authorized gem-seller.
River and I had our little spot in the area that was out of the way...within a grove of trees which kept people away from our little spot. We could also get in the water...and with a good lookout we could keep from getting harassed by the Dept. of Fisheries and Wildlife, while we were washing off and swimming. We also snorkelled a bit to see if we could find something useful. River did find a nautilus shell, but that might get us a nasty little fine for poaching sea-life so we may just have to drop it back where we found it. Better not to tempt fate. Me, I tried my hand at it but didn’t find a thing. River did also find a Blue Topaz so she’s doing ok; not that we can do anything about it at the moment. So it’s all dumpster diving at the moment...and only two items a day. It’s going to take a while before we can build a little shed to call our own, just to get out of the elements. Because it will be fall soon enough even if it’s at the height of summer right now...and I don’t think River and I want to be living in a tent when the cold weather hits. But if we have to, it’s going to make it really tough to stay warm; so we’ll probably have to make sure that we have plenty of firewood in the next while to keep us when the cold weather hits. It may be a toss-up on whether we may have to flout the law and break into the firehall or leisure center to have someplace out of the cold to sleep. We may have to look into sleeping bags to ensure that we have something that we can easily drop down to sleep in anywhere while keeping our tent as a semi permanent place to lay down our heads. In any case, at least the cops haven’t sighted where we’ve planted ourselves. There is a 64x64 lot by the riverside but that’s about §8,192 about §3000 more than what we can afford with how much we have on us at the moment. At least we haven’t 🐸🐸🐸🐸 off the farmers since we haven’t gone in and stolen any of their fruits and vegetables although sometimes it’s been tempting to do so.
The last thing we want to do is give ourselves a bad rap with the cops and the citizens of Appaloosa Plains. We don’t have anywhere else to go at the moment and until such time as we’re able to make ourselves enough money to get settled down someplace, we just have to stomach living like indigents. It’s not fun, but well, you do what you have to do.
I said to River, my throat tight; “I promised you a better life than this...I’m sorry, honey.”
River told me. “Don’t ever apologize. That’s what our vows were, for better or for worse, my love. Whatever happens to us, I’m right there with you...and that’s all that matters.” How did I end up with her. Was it just the luck of the draw that I ended up with someone who would stick with me through everything that life would throw at us?
“I love you, sweetheart.” I told her as heartfelt as I could convey, considering how badly off we were in this situation.
“Don’t ever forget that I love you too...” River told me. “However tough this gets, we go through this together side by side. Unlike others who will bail if things get rough, I’m with you...no matter what...honey...no matter what...”
I don’t know if I could see clearly at that moment because of the tears misting my eyes. But I pulled her into the biggest hug that I could.
...and somehow, I channeled her faith into me into a faith in her and with the aid of some dried up weather-beaten old wood, I managed to make her an easel so that she could pursue her painting. Putting it together was a labour of love and hope that included a box of nails and about four butterfly screws donated by a charitable fellow by the name of Kanoa Parrott. Have to remember that fellow one of these days when she makes it big. And the love in River’s eyes towards me when she saw that thing put together and the intense hug and kiss that she gave me healed my soul and made the effort all worthwhile.
We would do whatever it took to make it.
Always "River McIrish" ...and maybe some Bebe Hart. ~innocent expression~
...and after that, River painted, while I took care of our small garden and harvested the plants in the neighbouring park lot...and dumpster-dove for items to consign. Evidently we had some good sale days, because inside of four days, we went from homeless to homeowners. We were still squatting (living in a tent – and looked pretty much homeless still) but we were squatting on our own land a nice large 64x64 plot of land that jutted into the river meaning that we also had water rights, however the fish that swam past were still part of her Majesty’s Crown, so we still couldn’t fish off our own property...so when it came down to it, we still had to do whatever it took to keep our land from being expropriated for failure to pay taxes. But hey, that’s the looming axe over every homeowners head. Provides plenty of incentive to pay your taxes.
River found that the land only property was all she’d ever wanted. But I still wanted to build a house so that we were out of the elements...and that was going to take some doing. At first it was going to be a small ramshackle shack that we’d live out of, but first of all, to gather together everything that we would need to build that shack was going to be a task in itself. I still had to dumpster-dive because we didn’t have the licenses to fish and sell gemstones, nor would it be easy to poach wild animals and sell those because in order to be official and be able to sell them, we would have to get yet another license to sell protected species...and they expired every year. We would essentially have to be millionaires to be able to afford to own those type of licenses and be able to renew them every year. What a headache and a half to take care of. But at least we’d have an ability to get to the financial stratosphere one of these days.
In any case, life was better than it was before; now that we had our own lot, the police couldn’t evict us from what was essentially our own lot. We could pitch a tent without getting harassed by anyone other than the burglars. What we planted on the old lot would go towards a food surplus for us in the meantime while we built up our finances.
Needless to say we built up our cardio by running everywhere. Which was tough when your stomach was growling to say the least; however we managed to keep aside enough money to feed ourselves at least once a day...and making sure we didn’t do anything stupid to incur fines. At least they hadn’t criminalized dumpster diving yet – fingers crossed they won’t. When we did go swimming, we did so with the prime intention of locating valuables. River managed to find a blue topaz while snorkelling and I found a couple of shells which I dropped pretty darned quickly; didn’t want to get fined if the Dept of Fisheries and Wildlife guys were around.
We had some rainfall which helped a considerable amount since it brought the temperatures down from blistering to tolerable. Unfortunately, a string of thunderstorms spawned a tornado a few counties away and pelted us with hail. That was not fun, nursing bruises from being hit with hailstones – there was a reason for bike helmets...and our tent spawned a couple of holes which we had to promptly patch up with duct-tape; before they ripped even further.
Frankly we came to the realization that we needed some form of transportation other than our feet, since too much time jogging to and fro would end up putting holes in the only pair of shoes that we had; we had sneakers, one pair each and no way to replace them if we did. We’d have to run barefoot. Running into a cow-pie or horse-pie with your bare feet was not on my list of a fun experience. It was about ten times worse odor then stepping in dog-poo...and if you had abrasions on your feet already from running on the hard ground with bare feet, you ran the risk of tetanus (lockjaw) – not fun at all, where your muscles governing how you were able to open and close your mouth locked up making you unable to eat without being fed liquids through a straw jammed between your teeth until the bacteria was fought long enough to be vanquished or you died.
Naturally that wasn’t an experience we were wanting in the slightest, so we opted to make sure that we took care of our shoes and made every trip that we had count. Whether it was dumpster-diving or getting food from the grocery store, we had to calculate just how much wear and tear we were putting on our foot-gear and calculate replacement cost figuring that into how much we were going to end up having to dumpster-dive and sell in hopes that we would be able to make ends meet.
Because it wasn’t just food...it was clothes and shoes. You could manage to do without clothes by wearing the stuff until they were threadbare, but having to go without shoes was a no-no – being able to be mobile was life itself since being able to dumpster-dive meant having to be on our feet. If we were convalescing from an infected foot, we’d starve. On the other hand, wearing clothes until they were transparent from being threadbare brought its own set of problems. Not only was it freezing cold in wintertime, but frankly, the cops would give you a rough time for indecent exposure. Luckily for me, pants took a long time to go threadbare, and would gather holes or rip long before that happened. River on the other hand...stood a big chance of being charged for indecent exposure for a shirt being threadbare.
Since most of the time, I stunk too badly (from dumpster diving); it fell to River to go into the grocery store and see what she could cache from the limited funds that we had. And frankly most of the time all we could do was get a few bananas or something that was equally inexpensive. On a rare occasion we were able to get some fish...which would fill us up and the bones we used as fertilizer for our plants. The apple trees grew up pretty quickly which let us have some snacks to munch on. Banana plants would have to be later when we had a high enough ability to plant more complicated plants.
Also every so often, a lot inspector would drop by and cite lots for unsightly garbage which meant that stuff that we dumpster-dove for we had to either sell right off the bat to a passerby, consign at the consignment store or dump off behind a bush or something; just so that it couldn’t be tied to us. Because if it could be tied to us, then it became a problem that would result in a ticket and well, we knew we couldn’t afford to get fined.
River and I would sometimes jog home from our collecting activities. Sometimes I’d meet her outside the grocery store and we’d run home. Frankly running behind her was often the highlight of my day. Hey, just because we’re living like a couple of hobos doesn’t mean one doesn’t get urges.
...and when we got home, we’d roast our fish...and make sure that we ate well (well, what did you think I was going to say?)...and watered the plants (no...that’s not a euphemism).
Next morning we’d start all over again; another day, same as the first. But what brought us a consolation was that now we were working towards our own property, rather than squatting on some plot of land from which we could be evicted from by force and that was nice to know for a change. And thus we just kept working at what we could.
River was more than happy to have the opportunity to paint while I dumpster dove and did what I had to do to bring in more simoleons. And eventually, the paintings she produced would more than pay for what we needed as the popularity for her paintings took off. Somehow we managed to buy paints for her at the very least to ensure that the quality of paintings she produced were good, since using fruit juices to stain canvas wasn’t a great way to produce paintings that would last in terms of longevity. It was certainly not unheard of, it just didn’t work out too well for making great paintings.
As I dumpster-dove, I starting learning what would sell and what wouldn’t; the cheap stuff, I ditched as soon as I found them or sold them off to passers-by. While the bigger items that I found like dressers and other furniture were taken to the consignment store – those things sold via consignment rather well after a bit of spiffing up (maybe a bit of dusting; wiping down with a damp cloth and then going over it with furniture polish and it was as nice as new. Then we’d get plenty from it. In fact, selling a book-case was what put us over the money required to buy the lot that we now owned; that the cops would no longer be able to move us off since we owned it free and clear title.
But building a house required building permits as well. The township of Appaloosa Plains didn’t mind a shack to store tools in, but if we were going to live in it, it had to meet the specifications for a house. Even a single room with kitchen...had to have electric and plumbing as well as permits for foundation work and framing even if your toilet and shower were going to be outside...at least for the beginning and all the fixtures for a bathroom had to at least be roughed in before they would give us the Occupation Permit which meant that we had to have a bathroom, even if it was just empty for now. All this could run into the §3200 range just to permit your home and that was before even breaking ground.
All these permits...to be paid as the house broke ground and in order.
Foundation §250.00
Septic §300.00
Framing §400.00
Electrical §450.00
Plumbing §450.00
Final Inspection §1500
Occupation Permit §1500 (meaning that the city will allow us to move in).
Gotta love the city and all their requirements in order for us to have a chance to make a life for ourselves. We’d probably be working ourselves to death just trying to make ends meet...and every extension to the house meant yet another pile of permits to be paid for.
But if it kept us out of the cold this winter...so much the better. And I was quite willing to make sure that my beloved wife had shelter out of the cold, no matter what the cost. In fact, I’d spend every cent we owned just for my wife to be able to be out of the cold and in warm shelter when winter came. Any husband worth their salt would do the same. If one didn’t care to protect the woman one professed to love, then why be in a relationship to begin with? So I didn’t care about my own safety, but River’s safety was paramount in my mind.
Always "River McIrish" ...and maybe some Bebe Hart. ~innocent expression~
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Always "River McIrish" ...and maybe some Bebe Hart. ~innocent expression~