[Hpn] just me

joe reynolds jos_reyn@yahoo.com
Tue, 10 Dec 2002 20:28:47 -0800 (PST)


	Sometimes I worry that what I am putting in here is a
little more personal than it should be. This after all
isn't MY blog but OUR space collectivelly. This is our
town commons for lack of a better term though
"comittee of correspondence" comes to mind. This place
kindly made available to us all is an equivalent of
the village greens that evolved into village squares
and fills much the same role. Though sometimes the
image of Luther nailing his manifesto to the cathedral
doors is closer to what it should mean.
	I do digress, don't I? Anyway a large part of why I
write in so personal a manner is because I take what
has happened to me real personal. In no way do I see
the personal and political being sepparate when it
comes to homelessness. However I am going to start
using a Yahoo group to do very personal postings.
After a bit I'll just leave the URL at the end of a
post here for anyone who wishes to drop in.
	Last time I was at Bonnie's website I was amazed by
the amout of literature involving homeless people. I
have started to read some but in the end I find things
that resonate in unexpected places.
	With my housing about to end and maybe/maybe not I
have a place to go I have been feeling on the outside
and looking in again in a way that I only felt at
night scrunched up under magic blanket and sleeping
bag in that Plymouth Colt that didn't run anymore.I
just read something that said it all. Bradbury has a
book just out in paperback FROM THE DUST RETURNED
(Isbn 0-380-78961-2) featuring that haunted family of
creatures and vamps and "others" that I loved as a
kid. They have a human child as a foundling living
among them - I don't recall that from the old stories
- but what the words called out in me...
	" In the midst of which Timothy was richoceted from
beast-child to dread relative in a volcanic roar so
that at last, defeated, he yanked himself free and
fled to the kitchen where something huddled against
the flooded windowpanes. It sighed and wept and tapped
continually, and suddenly he was outside, staring in,
the rain beating, the wind chilling him, and all the
candle darkness inside lost. Waltzes were being
waltzed: he could not waltz. Foods were being devoured
he could not devour, wines were being drunk he could
not drink."
	Amid family, or what should be family, he feels left
out. This outsiderness is what I constantly feel.
Family - we all have at least one - so where are they
when "this" happens to us.
	I just trimmed a couple of unnecessary "explicatives"
from that. They aren't necessary, at least this time
they aren't, and only mentionedto emphasize how
emotional I am on this point. I became an outsider,
the "dread relative" and yes it bothers me that there
is a table where there should be a place for me but
isn't. I doubt I am the only one "here" that fits in
this, that feels this and no night is colder than that
thought that runs on spider legs, cold and liquid,
down the spine and out our toes.
	We all need our place but not just a matter of walls
and ceiling cause even a hatchback has those. We need
a place in hearts and beside others.
	That's the hard one. That is the one no law, no court
can guarantee us,we can't take for ourselves. That one
they have to decide to do. And "they" haven't been
listening ever since the sermon on the mount or the
one they call their god telling them what they do to
the least they do to him. And they do it without
falling down from fear in their boots cause of what
they dare do to their deity and crawling around on
knees asking for the chance to attone. They have to
change their hearts and maybe that is our job as much
as anything else.
	They need to feel shame and guilt over their choices
especially when they do it invoking the name they
claim to cherish.
	Me, I'm an agnostic but they say they're believers.
Which also makes them guilty of blasphemy.
	Hey, they're the ones taking the name in vane. I
can't; I'm not a believer.
Infidel and proud but also human and lonely.
	In the end I still agree with the old saw about books
being friends. Best friends anyone can have - they let
you know you aren't alone when no one else will be
there and no book ever abandoned a relative. Wish the
same could be said for families. 
	I disagree strongly with the guy who wrote that
survival manual for homelessness. Silly bird has some
good stuff but when he blames it on immigration and
such he's wandered into "I just met Elvis cooking in a
fast food restaurant" territory. Lots of blame to go
around though and a major portion belongs to
"families" and "family values". Rome went down touting
its' commitment to "the family". The heart of the
republic was one term used (Seutonius? Can't recall
but doesn't matter)The heart had a coronary I guess.
	I'd make them all ashamed if I could, hoping to make
them change. But then again I also have taken to
feeling as deeply about problems with my computer as
personally as I do with my daughter disowning me. 
	Hell, maybe more personally.
	Yeah, starting to think it isn't just losing this
place but also I'm letting Christmas get to me. Others
cheer like ice through my heart at times and I hate
feeling that sort of envy. I;m much less than perfect
it seems.
		Zen hugs, Joe

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