#100

Well, this is actually the hundredth posting to my blog that I started a year and a half ago. I wanted this post to be momentous but (maybe fortunately) not a lot interesting has been happening.(I wrote that bit about a week ago, but things have happened since then.)

I am still stuck at Kamp Winge-a-lot, and don't see being able to leave until the end of the month when, hopefully, I will have saved up enough to get where I am going and not have to worry for a little while. This is paramount, because I am going such a long distance, to a place with which I am not familiar. I have friends there, and I am working on getting a place to stay and a part-time job, but it is still a big move for me. To be practical, I can be homeless as easily in Wyoming as I can here. It doesn't require a new skill set. But, I intend to hit the ground running, so to speak.

I was transferred to the Butcher Block at work, primarily in Seafood. It is considerably more work, but it promises 30-40 hours a week, and I don't have to scrounge for them, either. Both the Asst. Manager and the Manager of the department are very glad to have me working there because (1) I have a good work ethic and show up on time and actually work while I am there, (2) I am intelligent enough to not have to repeat things to all of the time and (3) I am efficient and organise tasks well.

Amazingly, the Store Director (the same one who fired me in the first place, all those months ago) now considers me one of his most valuable employees. I know this because he has told me this sevral times, and told other employees the same thing, and he is not prone to hyperbole. I have worked with meat, frozen food and produce before, and the same skills pretty much apply to Seafood.

Of course, there are a few drawbacks (but, what would life be without them?): some of my fellow employees do not seem to share my work ethic, coming in late, leaving the department when it is busy and doing things in a haphazard way, which leaves me with that much more work to do, which I do, because I am conscientious.

I really was hoping that my century posting would end on an upbeat note, but, apparently, life has other plans for me:

The 12th was the anniversary of my father's death. I thought I got through it rather well; no major depression or sadness, just kind of a vague feeling of loss. Then, sometime during the night, whilst I slept, some unmitigated heap of semi-simian excretions stole my new phone, which I paid a whole week's salary for. I got to use it for not quite three weeks.

Then, I was on my way to feed the cats, after work, and passing through the mass St. Patrick's Day Parade orgy along Perkins road, when I hit a piece of a bottle that some thoughtful fellow had left for me in the road. As a friend of mine, who is a cyclist also, remarked: "Dude, you hit that just perfectly." The glass cut completely through my rear tyre and inner tube, cutting them almost completely in half. As it is a Sunday, and I open the Seafood Department tomorrow, I will be walking until at least Tuesday.

Then, somehow, I managed to say something to make one of my closest friends angry at me. I am going to stop talking to people entirely (this will be made easier by my lack of a mobile), except for what is minimally necessary to conduct business. You know, you aren't crazy if everybody does hate you.

I went online to check on getting a replacement phone (I had insurance on this one), only to discover that the deductible is $100. I am eligible for a mail-in rebate of $100, but God only knows when that will reach me, if it does at all. All this, while I am trying like crazy to sock away enough money to get out of my present circumstance and out of Louisiana.

Am I cursed? Have I done something terribly wrong? Do I somehow deserve all of this crap? Sometimes, I really think that something is out to get me.

You know the old saying, "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade"? I have enough lemonade. I have pretty much cornered the market on it. So, here I sit, at Middleton Library, composing this, because I no longer have a phone to post anything from. When I leave here, I will go and feed the cats (hopefully without pissing anybody else off) and walk the three miles back to fucking Kamp, where I will spend a rollicking and revivifying evening with some of the stupidest and most pathetically useless people I have ever met. Then, tomorrow, I will either walk or ride the crappy Baton Rouge transportation system to and from work. Tuesday, if something else doesn't drop on my head like a giant cow-flop from heaven, I may, just maybe get my bike repaired, so I can return, ever so slightly, to the agonising tedium of what passes for an existence these days.

Yeah. I complained that things were bad and a friend told me: "Cheer up. It could be worse." So I cheered up and, sure enough, things got worse.

Sorry about the pessimistic viewpoint, but I just don't see much to feel positive about. I wish something good would happen, for a change. Is it really my point of view? Am I just not seeing all of this shit in a positive light? Or would succeeding in doing so simply qualify me as delusional?

Help? Somebody?

Couldn't Think of a Clever Title ...

... so I am just going to ramble on, kind of stream of consciousness, at least, as much consciousness as I can muster.

I am trying to publish this one in Trebuchet. Just wanted to see if the "font" button works on this thing. It did before.

I seem to have to keep switching it ... oh well. More in the same vein:

Other things I can't do:

Wear What I want: I am limited pretty much to more conventional clothing, which is okay most of the time, but I can't really express myself much, since the other clients already think I am weird. Athletic kit is, of course, out of the question, except for my riding gear, which they think is odd enough. One idiot asked me, in an incredulous voice: "Are you wearing leotards?". Trying to explain cycling apparel to him (or anything else, for that matter) is fruitless. These guys already look at me like I came from Mars or something. I just wish I could beam up. 

Use My Laptop: Yeah, right, I do need to fix it, but even if it were working, it is against regulations to have a laptop at Kamp (they are afraid that clients will use the WiFi network to download porn, which is probably true), as well as a DVD player, boom box, radio (without earphones) or CD player (ditto). So, I can't use my laptop, even when I fix it (which I will try to do today). Believe it or not, I really don't spend much time looking at porn on the internet; I mostly access research and news sources, and streaming video TV and movies (like Hulu). I also blog and write stuff. No such luck. May have to go back to the primitive methods of physical inscription, tedious as it is.

Relax: I really can't just let loose and be myself. I have to guard everything that I say or do, not only because I don't want anyone knowing that I am gay, but also because, in this type of situation, every bit of personal information that you divulge may possibly be used against you. This is, unfortunately, true, though not of everyone at Kamp. There are those characters who invest quite a bit of time finding out what they can about other clients, in order to gain an advantage over them. Some of these guys will do anything to avoid actually working. In fact, if some of them spent as much time actually working as they do scheming how to avoid working, they wouldn't be in this predicament.

Yeah, I know: bitch, bitch, bitch. Well, it helps pass the time.

There is a new client in "charge" of the kitchen, and he guards his little baliwick jealously. According to the guys who run this place, no client has the right to tell anyone else what to do: only the shelter management guys get to do that, so, as far as I am concerned, he is on pretty shaky ground in so far as his authority is concerned, but I just pretty much ignore him. He told me, the other night, that I shouldn't have gone into the kitchen to retrieve my "late plate", and I just smiled and sat down and ate. I have dubbed him the "Soup Nazi".


I managed to record some of the nocturnal background noise on my phone, but I still haven't figured out how to transfer files from phone to blog through public computers, since they have filters which keep me from downloading anything, even to transfer to my flash drive, or I just haven't figured out how to get around them, which means that photos and other stuff will probably have to wait until I get my laptop running again.


It was freezing yesterday morning, but wound up in the 60's in the afternoon. It has been in the 40's all day today, so I am wearing my "leotards". It's kind of a pain in the butt to have to carry changes of clothing with me, especially if it looks like rain, when I have to pack my slicker.


That's about all for now. I am hoping I can hang out with friends for a while tonight and maybe get to watch a movie. I get paid Thursday, and it all goes right into my savings account. I wish I could make money faster, but I can't, so I have to be patient.


Thank God for pharmaceuticals.

The Saints and King Cakes

Lately, my boss has begun to recognise the fact that my talents have been largely under-utilised where I work (which is a grocery store). It is really kind of ironic, since I have worked for him for a total of 18 months or so, and he is just figuring this out. So, over the past few weeks, he has been shopping me from department to department, and also entrusting me with various projects (like the Food Bank thing). I have responded by exceeding his expectations so much that he has complimented me personally several times (which he is not prone to do) and even suggested that I should consider a management position. This is brilliant, but, coming on the heels of my decision to get the hell out of Baton Rouge, is somewhat belated and pretty much moot.

So, this week, I was in two departments: Seafood and Bakery, and enjoyed the experience immensely (anything beats running a register for 6-8 hours a day!). First, he entrusted me with a project to push shrimp (we had purchased a large quantity of Gulf shrimp). I wound up bagging up about 22 cases of shrimp in plastic bags, weighing it out and hawking it to customers as they passed the seafood department. I sold around 500 lbs. of shrimp, which made him very happy. I wound up with hands like pincushions (frozen shrimp can jab the fuck out of you!) but it was quite an adventure. To me, just about anything is an adventure, these days.

Fresh from my triumph in seafood, I spent 9 hours yesterday on loan to the bakery, where I decorated several dozens of King Cakes. For those who do not know what a King Cake is, it is a filled cake that looks kind of like a giant doughnut, decorated in purple, gold and green, which are Mardis Gras colours. Traditionally, there is a little plastic baby inside, which represents the infant Jesus. The person who gets the "baby" will have good luck and has to buy the next King Cake. There are even little brown plastic babies for multi-ethnic King Cakes. I have never seen an oriental plastic baby, but that dosen't mean that they don't exist. King Cakes are always eaten by people in a group, usually over coffee, because they are a lot like a coffee cake.

Anyway, the bakery was a lot of fun, too. Unfortunately, my parole is short-lived: I will be back on the front end today (unless he finds something better for me to do). The front-end manager wants me on the front end, because I follow all of the procedures and am much more efficient than any of the other cashiers. In one week, I rang almost 12,000 items (the next contender did barely 8,000) and I have an item-per-minute count (yes, they track this stuff) of 27; the next closest cashier has 17. So, the front end manager wants me working for her as much as possible. Gosh. It's great to be wanted.

Anyway, as everybody knows now, the New Orleans Saints won Super Bowl XLIV last night. Hooray. I got to see the last 17 minutes of the game, but it turned out to be the most dramatic 17 minutes of the game. The crowd at Kamp went wild (or as wild as they go, without chemical assistance). I really want to get the fuck out of there. I hate every minute I spend there. It's like being in reform school (I guess), except the staff isn't allowed to hit you. I have never seen a bigger collexion of losers in my life. It's frightening.

Of course, as I have said, they are not all losers: some of these guys are really trying to make good, and most of them wound up in Kamp because of drugs and/or alcohol abuse. These guys, like myself, hate the place. The rest of them want to make it their home, but they won't, because the place isn't run that way: after a few weeks, if a client doesn't have a job or a bank account, and has shown no attempt to get back on his feet again, he is booted. Then, it's back to "under the bridge" ( a popular hobo jungle nearby) or "The Sally" (the local Salvation Army shelter) or just out on the streets. Some of these guys kind of prefer it on the streets, where they can indulge in their vices without oversight. They don't like "The Sally" much, because the people there will test you for drugs and alcohol if they suspect anything.

So, that's about it for now. I am really behind in posts, because I have to use Middleton's computers ( I really need to fix my laptop!) and I can't get there while it is open every day. I have a lot of stuff I want to post, but haven't been able to lately. So, if anybody is actually reading this crap: bear with me. It will get better as things progress.

I am still trying to figure out a way to post images. I would appreciate any help offered.

I am aiming for early March as my escape window. I hope I can attain escape velocity by then.

Prats, Prams and Punctures

I ride my bicycle every day, pretty much everywhere I go. I noticed that, with the cold wimter weather, the number of people out jogging, waling or pushing prams around the lakes dwindled to a mere two or three (besides me, on my bike). Of course, now that is warmer, these vile creatures have stirred from hibernation to haunt the bike trails once again.

Hey, look: I try to be polite to pedestrians on the few (and generally pretty ratty) bike trails we have in town. All that I ask is that groundpounders give us cyclists a little respect:

Run or walk single file: If there is one thing that really steams me it is joggers who run two or three abreast, blocking the bike path and frequently causing me to stop or cut into oncoming traffic to avoid a collision. You don't have to do it all the time, just when a bike wants to pass you. Two women with prams, walking abreast, caused me to stop on the bike trail today, until they had passed,

Don't be distracted: Yes, I know it is sooooo much fun to jog along with your Ipod blaring in your ears, but, when you do (or text or talk on your mobile) you aren't paying attention to what is going on around you. Some people have the volume up so high that they can't even hear my police whistle!

Dog Walkers: Yes, trotting Phideaux out for his morning run with you is a pleasant morning ritual, and a great chance to have him poop somewhere else! Please don't leave chocalate goodies on the tarmac: is it too much to ask you to clean up after your dog? Rolling over a puppy-fresh mousse is not a pleasnt experience. Some of it gets slung off of the wheels onto the rider. Oh, yeah: and when a bike passes you rein in your mutt! I have had situations with dog on one side, master on the other, and leash in between. This can cause some really painful accidents (and not just for the cyclist!).

So everyone doesn't think that all I do is bitch about everything, I actually had a good bike experience yesterday. I had a puncture on the way to work and repaired it, only to have it go flat on me again, not a mile further. I was walking my bike alomg when a young guy in a Jeep stopped and asked me if he could help. I said: "Not unless you happen to have a 700 x 23 mm, Presta-fit inner tube." I didn't anticipate his response.

"Yeah," he said. "As a matter of fact, I do!"

And he did! I hadn't even expected him to know what I was talkiing about, much less actually have one! Imagine my suprise! Turns out he is a tri-athlete. He made me a gift of the tube and a ride to work, so I got there in plenty of time and was able to fix my punture and get back to Kamp, without further ado.

So, see? I don't just bitch!.