Nostalgia

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My friend from Vermont called and I haven’t even called her back yet and my mind is filling with nostalgia for where I used to live there.  Even more than Tucson, whose weather I loved, I loved living in Vermont.  The people there are just my style, and I had gotten to know a lot of the town, as it was a very small town I lived in!  I miss having that camaraderie with people, going out and seeing the same people everywhere, and I miss going out to drink.  Some of my best times have been drinking, and I miss drinking at Kips and at the new Metropolis, over there in Brattleboro.  I miss the people, who are too many to name, and I wish there was some way I could get back there!  I wish I’d never left!  I know I’m chasing memories, but those were good ones.  I think I fit there.  I really fell apart last year.  I wish that hadn’t happened so I could have kept on living where I lived.

Maybe it’s the light,

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being up earlier than I usually have been, maybe it’s going out for a job as a security guard..but I feel out of place, like a fish out of water.  Like I’m only used to the Vermont that’s snowy and snowing, not to one with sunshine, and I’d gotten used to the former.  Maybe it’s simply that I’m running out of money and I don’t know what to do.

Maybe it’s too much change :: when I walked into the Harmony Underground today, everything was rearranged.  The back room where I was to do my readings is now, instead, a glass room.  And that’s all well and good, I just don’t know what’s going on, haven’t heard from the owners, etc.  So I moved my stuff out of there, put it in the trunk of my car.  Maybe the best thing to come of that was that it prompted me to fill out the Harmony cards..13 positions with seven moves each, that I think are pretty solid.  So maybe I don’t do readings at that shop, maybe primarily I developed those cards, that system.

But I don’t like having things in the trunk of my car, and being without a job.  It reminds me of times I’ve moved in desperation, and I’m tired of moving in desperation.  If I had means, and was moving, that would be a different kind of adventure.

But I’m tired of being poor, and to be honest I can’t take that all on myself.  That skilled people aren’t well-off, that any person is destitute, that an average worker struggles so much..these are indicators that, as a whole, we are disorganized, we are lopsided.  It’s fine while you’re the one sitting in the office, who still has a job..and then, you’re on the outside of the circle, with no way in.  But I’ve never felt at home in those offices, never felt like a fish in water there, and the place I do feel like a fish in water, doesn’t pay the bills–at least not now.

So do I use my fear, as I have before, to say: I may die, I may become homeless, but I’ll use the time I have, between now and then, to write another book, so that if I die it will at least be absurd, at least be ironic, that I couldn’t find a way to live?

I’ll pursue this security guard job..I’ll pursue grocery store jobs..but unless a job has enough hours to pay the rent, what’s the point?  That’s the situation I was in before..on half salary with my former employer (in lieu of being laid off) but with a federal lien on my income based on my making full salary (which I wasn’t).  That bind was enough to cost me my apartment, my place to live, my ability to sleep in a bed at night and look for work.  We’re sold a dream that hard work and skill will earn you money, but increasingly it is clear to me that even a combination of the two is not enough.

I feel lonely.  I want to use my mind to do something that is appropriate for my mind.  I don’t want to depend on family again, I don’t want to be homeless again.  I don’t want to give up–and I won’t give up–but on a morning like this I feel like I’m at the end of my rope.

In Vermont

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Been here for 24 hours.  Slept in my new bed.  Doing in-town busywork: bought a tea kettle, rented a P.O. Box.

It’s beautiful here.  Driving across the river to New Hampshire, I fell in love with a bridge.

There’s a political vibe here, and a certain look to the townspeople, as every place has.  I’m soaking it up today–I know that soon everything here will be my new normal.

Tough logistics, unexpected costs.  Still a workable plan: write.

Hold everything else second.  Do whatever I need to do, to write.  I can work here.  I don’t need to work now, but when/if I do, I can get a job here, a plain job, if I need to..there are enough big stores and hotels that I could get a local job if necessary.

I’m going to hike tomorrow.  I found a park today where you can overlook the river.

My housemates are neat.  We’ve been friendly but not overly so.  I hope that continues and develops.  My mom and I bought some dishes together for the house, which I unpacked this afternoon.  They’re square, with red drawings.

Today I walked around and looked at shops, took inventory, figured out where everything is.  I found a project to volunteer for, that helps local people; I hope to hear more details from them today or tomorrow.  If I do it, I’ll write about it here.

I’m praying that I don’t get into a funk.  I don’t think I will.  I need to remember not to make self-assessments in the afternoon (always a lull time for me).  And to do my own thing: I’m interested in meeting new people here, and am receptive to new information, but I have much that is already in place in my mind, in my life–those parts I carry with me, they’re already there, they don’t need to be found.

A guy just walked into this coffeehouse in shorts.  It’s 21°F.