Skid Row Diary 49

Picture Legend

1. Jennifer Lopez
2. The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King
3. Popcorn with mechanical butter
4. Nazgûl leader and Gandalf at the gates of Minas Tirith
5. Sauron
5. Melkor, unmasked
7. Fourth grader
8. Galadriel
9. Eowyn
10. Goldberry
11. Arwen
12. Rosie
13. Falls of Rauros
14. Lenny Bruce
15. Bob Fosse
16. Wrangling
17. Jennifer Connelly and Ben Kingsley
18. Elizabeth Shue
19. Valerie Perrine
20. Sally Layd
21. Nikki Cox
22. Lauren Sanchez
23. Marina Sirtis
24. Cheryl Ladd
25. Lois Ayres
26. Sung-Hi Lee
27. Samantha Morton
28. Humphrey Bogart
29. Rumanian nurse



17      December     2003       Wednesday         Day 158


    I got up at 4:10, already late. A black guy was meticulously washing his feet in the shower. He gave me a dirty look as I entered the room, as if I was invading his exclusive and rightful domain.
   I met McCree at Pershing Square at 4:45, and we caught the first train north.
   We discussed many things while riding the subway, or at least Ron did. I don’t need or have to say anything for him to have a full and complete conversation.
   We arrived at Trimar at 6:00. I bought him a cup of coffee from the 7-11. He’d pay me back after we donated our precious bodily fluids. I also gave him a ham and cheese sandwich I had made especially for him the night before, being the thoughtful bastard that I am. I had my own as well, which I ate for breakfast. Ron stuffed his sandwich into his backpack for later consumption.
   “I thought you might want to eat something before you donated.”
    “I’ll eat later,” he said.
   That’s the last time he gets a sandwich from me! I’m glad I only gave him two slices.
   The Steven Soderbergh film “Out of Sight,” based on the novel by Elmore Leonard, was playing when I finally got on the couch.Today Ron was placed directly across the room from me. We raced to see which one of us could fill our plasma bottle first. I won.
   “Did you like that movie?” I asked him as we waited for the 165 to take us back to Van Nuys.
   “Man... I don’t watch movies like that,” he replied.
   “What was the matter with that one?! It’s got action, it’s got Jennifer Lopez, it’s funny...”
   “It’s stupid.”
   “What’s the last movie you saw at a theater?”
   “Ah... Harry Potter...”
   After a quick stop at the 99 Cent Store, we caught a Rapid south on Van Nuys Bl, to Ventura Bl, and another Rapid to Universal City.
   We parted there. I went up the hill to Citywalk, Ron to... where ever it is Ron goes to, probably back to his lonely room at the Boyd Hotel.
   I bought a ticket for the 12:10PM showing of “The Lord of the Rings, The return of the King,” the final installment of Peter Jackson’s trilogy.
   I then bought a tasty Tommy’s cheeseburger, and ate it outside in the pavilion, hoping the Venus Hum video of “Soul Sloshing,” would play on the huge jumbo screen they have there.
   My hopes and dreams would prove to be fruitless.
   I also purchased (as opposed to buying) freshly popped popcorn and soda at enormous cost to my person, dousing it liberally with mechanical butter and salt, getting a refill on the soda about 1/4 of of the way through the film.
   What can I say? Peter Jackson has triumphed, despite the handicap of living in New Zealand. The movie was epic and magnificent! It even went so far as to make changes from Tolkien’s masterpiece, which takes a lot of... guts. But for the most part he succeeded (actually, the book would have been better had J.R.R shortened it’s protracted ending). I would have liked to see the confrontation between the leader of the Nazgûl and Gandalf at the gates of Minas Tirith, but then I can’t have everything, now can I? And in my opinion, the fall of Sauron could have had a tad more uuummph, (technical term) in it (Sauron, by the way, was not the first Dark Lord to persecute Middle Earth. That distinction belongs to Melkor, the primordial source of evil in the universe. He existed during the Elder Years, when the Earth was knew. Sauron was Melkor’s minion (like most professionals, an evil Lord of Darkness needs an apprentice. And as any fourth grader knows, Melkor, or Morgoth as he was to become when he became evil, was defeated by the Host of Valinor in the War of Wrath). 
   In any case, I really enjoyed the movie. It was entertaining, touching, satisfying, informative, a grand spectacle, never before attempted.
   If it were up to me I’d nominate it for Best Picture of the Year at the Academy Awards. Who knows, it might even have a chance at winning.
   It was almost 4:00 when I got out of the theater. I would have accidentally wandered into the Farrelly brothers “Stuck on You,” but choose not to contaminate the memory of the picture I’d just seen.
   I made my way to my lonely room at 6th and San Pedro in the heart of the skid row area of downtown Los Angeles. I meditated for the rest of the evening before retiring.
   I had a dream in which the co-Guardian of Lothlorien, the Lady Galadriel, her granddaughter Arwen, the nature spirit personified, Goldberry, the shieldmaiden of Rohan, Éowyn, and the lovely Hobbit Rosie Cotton and I were all traveling by long boat down the Great River toward the falls of Rauros. It was early evening and we carefully looked out for unsavory types who might be lurking in the shadows on the shore. Soon we were swallowed by the fall’s mists and were protected throughout the night by Galadriel’s ethereal magic, and my huge walking stick.
   But mostly by Galadriel’s ethereal magic. It was good that she was there.


18    Dec    Thursday     Day 159


   Late, late last night I watched the Bob Fosse film “Lenny,” staring the lovely and talented Valerie Perrine, and Dustin Hoffman as the stand-up comedian, social critic, satirist, and screenwriter, Lenny Bruce, who intertwined politics, religion, sex, and vulgarity into his stand up routine, which at the time (early 1960s) was revolutionary. He was arrested several times on obscenity charges for saying stuff that George Carlin would later record on albums which would bring him wealth and esteem. He was brave, insofar that logic, clear and critical thinking, and creative impetus, can force one to move along certain lines of behavior. But he was self destructive as well, a fellow addict, and ironically, he wasn’t very funny, despite the protestations of his estranged wife.
   As far as the movie goes, brilliant performances from everyone involved. I hadn’t seen it since it first came out, and had forgotten how good it was. Fosse, the director of “Sweet Charity” and “Cabaret,” would go on to direct “All That Jazz,” and “Star 80.”
   Much later, I would wake up at 7:50 with a sore throat and stuffy nose. Scurvy most likely. Not enough fruit!
   I passed my case manger Kenny Johnson on the way to the showers. He ignored me as if I weren't there.
   Good.
   I felt irritable. I went down for scrambled eggs and sliced turkey, then cleaned my room and checked in on Giselle.
   She was doing okay... pants.
   I had a 10:00 appointment at DPSS. I left at 9:00, passing McCree on the street by the Fred Jordan Mission. I asked him if he had seen Dr Lo.
   “Yeah, I have. No problems. He has to get into contact with their program in West L.A., then we will be put on a waiting list.”
   “Waiting list?” I said. “What waiting list? I’ve been waiting since January.”
   “They got a waiting list.”
   “My friend Raleigh told me they need people.”
   “Well they may. But that doesn’t mean we still don’t have to wait.”
   “What do you mean? If they have openings they’ll want to fill them.”
   “Maybe, maybe not.”
    “Oh God! I’ll see you Saturday.”
   I took off. I couldn’t handle going back and forth with him right then.
   I sat and waited in the lobby of the DPSS until 11:00 when I got up and asked the people at the customer service desk to sign my housing form. I’ll deal with my DPSS case worker later.
   I dropped the form off at the Las Americas. A black lady was with the deskman today. I don’t know why.
   The deskman instructed me to return Monday at 10:30 for an interview. I said I would, being taught to follow simple instruction in the navy. Then I returned to the Weingart.
   I was given the wrong key by the deskman. Of course my key had been given to someone else, so I couldn’t get into my room, as the Weingart’s management declined to open my door with a pass key.
   So I attended the 1:00 ASAP meeting with Kathy. We discussed stress, and the various techniques one can use to maintain a high level of. Catching javelins, tightrope walking the Grand Canyon... shark wrangling.
   At 4:00 I walked outside the Weingart and got in line to attend the annual Christmas Party. It took 10 minutes to get into the cafe, mainly because there were other people there.
   This was the first party I ever went to where I had to be searched before entering. We were given a wonderful traditional Christmas dinner. I went for the Baked Salmon Filo Parcels rather than the Cioppino. The Tuscan cacciatora was very popular as well. Farm Style Pickle Relish rounded things off quite nicely.
   Music and dancing were provided, and which I really would have enjoyed if I were black. Since no Irish folk songs were offered I took off and returned to my room right after dinner.
   I wrote and read the paper. The incredibly beautiful and impossibly talented, Jennifer Connelly, was on Charlie Rose last night, which I got to see on today’s 6:30 rebroadcast on channel 58. The lovely and talented Ben Kingsley was on along with her, as well as the director of the film “House of Sand and Fog,” which they were promoting. I only taped her part of the interview.
    Oh Jennifer!  Bettany’s not good enough for you! Only I can appreciate your intrinsic value and worth as a human being... a precious child of the universe, a...
   Enough!
   I watched more episodes of the spreading of Christianity throughout the Roman Empire on “Frontline,” then the fascinating film, “Leaving Las Vegas,” starring Elizabeth Shue, as a “hardened” prostitute, and who was nominated for an Academy Award for her performance.
   I remember first seeing this movie with my friend Julie Laughlin in my  little apartment in Camarillo.  It was the only movie I ever watched with her there, and although the film was a smidgeon depressing, Julie stayed over that night... the one and only time she ever slept over in an apartment of mine.
   We usually met at motels you see. Motel Six usually. Cheap and clean.
   The fine Irish film director Jim Sheridan was promoting his film “In America,” on Charlie Rose tonight at 11:30. I watched for a while, then fell asleep.
   And dreamt I was lying wasted away on a dirty bed in a cheap motel in Las Vegas, dying of chronic alcoholism. I only had a few moments left before passing on. I was surrounded by three ladies, sitting on the bed with me... Elizabeth Shue, Valerie Perrine, and the beautiful and talented actress, Sally Layd, star of “The Great Outdoors,” “Double Dealin' Piston Poppers,” “Deep Throat Grannies,” and many other fine films.
   “I am influenced by every second of my waking hour,” I was telling Valerie.
   “I know,” she said.
   I turned to Elizabeth. “Oh... I’m so sorry...”
   “I know,” she said.
   Finally I turned my gaze turned toward Sally.
   “God you’ve got impressive breasts...”
   “I know,” she acknowledged.
   “Are those things real,” I gasped before spasming, smiling, then lying very still.
   “Rick...Rick... Rick?” Elizabeth said, before realizing that I had given up the ghost.

   CUT TO:

   EXT. STREET NEAR MOTEL -  DAWN

The three ladies walking walking. A paramedic van goes past with its lights
flashing. The soundtrack is empty - silent. We slowly fade in theme music and titles start to roll.

FADE OUT:              


19    December    Day 160        Friday


   I got up at 5:55. The molars on the right side of my mouth were becoming temperature sensitive. I hoped the problem would just go away and tried to forget about it.
   I exercised and meditated. Mark and Brian were on vacation again, but Kelly Gates told me that “The Lord of the Rings, the Return of the King,” had set a new record for a Wednesday opening, at $34 million. Mark and Brian surrogates played a repeat Family Feud episode with the  Elves and Dwarves. The elves won handily.
   After breakfast I attended the ASAP relapse prevention meeting, specifically to see if Dr. Lo had any CWT information for me. Sam was still gone though, and whoever it was who was supposed to run the Phase 1 meeting didn’t show up, so Dr Lo took that group, making him unavailable to me.
   An intern was left to facilitate our Phase 2 group, who quickly let the group’s loudmouths run all over him. I learned a little about what it was like to live in the jungles of Vietnam but nothing about relapse prevention. While listening I thought to myself that compared to World War II vets, these Vietnam guys were a bunch of whining babies.
   Afterwards I returned to the Weingart and saw Ms Sanchez to request a credit report. She wants me to keep her updated on my progress at the Las Americas so she can keep track on how well she’s doing her job.
   I tried see good ol’ Kenny, but he kept me waiting an hour and a half while he made a career out of talking to just two guys. As lunched time quietly approached I gave up and knocked on Richard Carnes door, and asked if I could talk to him.
   Apparently, the Las Americas people had called Ms Sanchez today to check my references. She had referred them to Kenny, who had not put my references on the application. Somehow Richard had spoken with them as well, so he was pleased with all of the progress I was making getting housing. I asked him if Kenny had talked to him about my pass request. No, he hadn’t. Of course not.
   Richard called Johnson and asked him about it. He then asked me if I could come back after 1:30. I told him I be back at 2:00 as I had a computer reserved at the library.
   For all of the time and work they’re spending on this little pass request I’d hate to see them tackle something really important.
   I went to lunch. Teriyaki chicken. Then to the library to return my videos. I had forgotten to bring my floppy disks with me, so there was no reason to use a computer.
   I returned to the Weingart, ready to face Richard and Kenny, only to find the lobby, the only entrance into the building, was closed until 2:30.
   I don’t know why.
   I returned downtown and checked my mail. I received the new debit card the county is going to use to disperse GR payments starting February.
   I got to the Weingart at 2:45. I asked Johnson if he had talked to Richard about my pass.
   “You didn’t tell us where you were going, were you’d be, what telephone number you could be reached at, who you’d be with. We can’t make a decision without that information.”
   What am I? A 13 year old teenage girl?
   Notice how it’s my fault he didn’t ask for that information four days ago when I originally requested the pass. What a dick.
   However, I had anticipated this request because I’m so fucking bright and all. I had my address book with me. I gave Kenny boy Vera’s address and phone number.
   “Come and see me Monday. We’ll have an answer by then. And I’ll tell you right now if it’s approved you’re only going to get one day.”
   Dick.
   I wrote in my room, angry over the exchange with Johnson, then angry because I was angry about it.
   After a meatball dinner, I relapsed and bought pack of cigarettes from the cigarette people at 5th and Broadway. I smoked them in my room and later dreamt of being in a heated tug-of-war with Nikki Cox, Lauren Sanchez, Marina Sirtis, Cheryl Ladd, and Lois Ayers, the beautiful and talented star of “Fever Pitch,” “Money, Money, Money,” Coming of Fortune,” “Buttslammers 8: The Ultimate Invasion,” and many other fine films. The girls won easily, five against one.
   I was pulled into a  burning lake of quicksand and never seen again.


20    December     Day 161      Saturday


   I knew before going to sleep that I wouldn’t get up in time to meet Ron at the Red Line station at 4:40, so I didn’t try. He’s a big boy and can get there by himself.
   I left at 8:30, after a dry pancake breakfast. I took Aurica’s Christmas gift with me, and stopped only at the 99 Cent store to pick up a few things.
   The overrated movie “Gladiator” was playing when I arrived at Trimar, near 11:00. I hadn’t liked the film when it first came out, and it hadn’t improved with age.
   I had just had my finger pricked, and vitals taken when McCree walked in the door.
   “Where were you this morning?!” I asked him with the proper amount of indignation.
   “Ah man,” he answered, smiling sheepishly. “I was out late last night with my daughter. I just couldn’t get there, you know, that early.”
   “So... you left me high and dry, huh? It’s so nice to know I can count on my friends.”
   “What are you doing here... You should have been done by now, and gone.”
   “What?”
   “What time did you get here,” he asked.
   “Time enough, young man. Don’t try to blame me for your irresponsibility and flakiness. I was there this morning, but when you didn’t show I returned to my lonely room and cried myself to sleep...”
   “Bullshit!”
   “... asking myself, where is my friend Ronald McCree. Perhaps he was waylaid on his way to keep our appointment. Perhaps I should notify the police. The least I could do is walk to his apartment to see if he’s there. See if he’s okay... but then I fell asleep.”
   “Yeah, right.”
   I didn’t let him off the hook for I had no reason to.
   I went in to donate while Ron signed in. “Gladiator,” finished up, and “The Matrix Reloaded,” began.
   I took out my gift for Aurica which was nicely wrapped, with a card attached to it with her name on it. Chrissy, the young American girl, began to prep me.
   “This is for Aurica?” she asked.
   “Yes.”
   Aurica was working in an adjacent room. I could see her walking around in there.
   “I’ll see that she gets it,” Chrissy said, then placed it in a corner shelf where no one could see it.
   After I finished I reminded her to give the gift to Aurica.
   “Oh, she’ll get it. Don’t you worry.”
   She was driving me nuts. Why didn’t she just pick up the damn thing and walk into the other room and give it to her and be done with it?!Oh no! Chrissy wanted to draw things out, thereby the possibility of her forgetting about the gift lingered. This time next year the present would still be sitting there, gathering dust and surgical gauze. Or perhaps Chrissy coveted the gift herself and wanted to spirit it away after I had left with no witnesses to be had.
   Aurica herself, solved the dilemma by coming up to me and giving me my present. A piece of photographic paper with a “Jesus Help Me” etched on to it. I told her I would cherish it until the day I died and always keep it with me. I told her of my gift to her and it’s location. She said she’d pick it up later.
   Will no one take the God Damn present?!
   Just as I finished up Aurica came back and collected it. She said she would take her lunch now and wait outside for me. She had something she wanted to tell me, she said.
   “Did you open it?” I asked her, once outside in the cold parking lot.
   “No, not yet. I’ll open it later. Is it chocolate?”
   “No, no. You don’t like chocolate, you once told me. It makes your stomach hurt.”
   I don’t know why, but she told me that if I read Psalm 131, all my illness would go away. Did she know I have a cold, or that I was just a sick bastard generally. I’ll never know.
   “You believe in prayer, right?” she asked.
   “Sure. Sure I do. I’ll look up the Psalm. Thank you for pointing it out to me my friend.”
   I told her I’d see her Christmas Eve, then she walked away to the taco shop. I went to 7-11 and bought a lotto ticket.
   I also bought a nice bean and cheese burrito, which I ate with the sausage I had saved from breakfast. I had plenty of time to eat as no bus came for an awfully long time.
   It took two hours for me to get to the Red Line station at Universal. I stopped at the Macarthur Park 99 Cent store to pick up some items I had forgotten, then got on the wrong train and headed back to North Hollywood. Eventually I made it to my room in one piece.
   I listened to the Prairie Home Companion while writing. Later I would tape “National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation 2,” with Randy Quaid and Sung-Hi Lee. A made for TV movie, so no boobs.
   I made popcorn.
   I tried to watch Spielberg’s “Minority Report,” starring Samantha Morton, but when I ran it back the tape looked as if the boys from “Fight Club,” had been at it with giant magnets. I gave up and watched Bogart’s last movie, “The Caine Mutiny,” until I fell asleep and dreamt I was at a cottage camp just outside Akron... in a grove of maple trees. Green, cool, beautiful. That's my favorite tree.  I'd go there with a pretty woman. Oh. A strange woman, a quiet woman. Perhaps a Rumanian nurse. Oh, under a tree. I wouldn't even want to know her name, while I would be just... Mr. Smith. I sent out for cold beer. I told her things. Things that I've never told to anyone. Things that are locked deep...in here. And as I talked to her, I asked her to hold out her soft white hand and say,
My heart is not proud, Lord,
    my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
    or things too wonderful for me.
 But I have calmed and quieted myself,
    I am like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child I am content.
 Israel, put your hope in the Lord
    both now and forevermore.
  

Skid Row Diary 48

14        December          2003              Sunday             Day 155


   “This conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience. The total influence — economic, political, even spiritual — is felt in every city, every statehouse, every office of the federal government. We recognize the imperative need for this development. Yet we must not fail to comprehend its grave implications. Our toil, resources and livelihood are all involved; so is the very structure of our society. In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military–industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists, and will persist. We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals so that security and liberty may prosper together.” -President Dwight D. Eisenhower, January 17, 1961

   Everybody is sick. With cold, flu, or plague. I confirmed this at lunch with John.
   “Everybody’s sick,” he said.
   I had gotten up just prier to coming down to lunch, so I didn’t have a great deal to say for myself.
   “I’m going to Pasadena,” I said, trying to break the tension.
   “It’s raining,” Mr. Olson said, who was sitting with us. Mr. Olson is of Japanese ancestry, a fellow vet who comes from Oregon. He’s been here 14 months and nobody’s bothered him about leaving yet.
   Oh, to be Japanese!
   “I know,” I said. “I’ll have to take my umbrella.”
   That issue successfully dealt with, I set about my task. I caught the 18 bus downtown, took the Red Line to Union Station, and leaped aboard the Gold Line. It took me right to the Park in Pasadena.
   Mr. Olson was right. It was raining. But not too hard. My umbrella defeated the sky’s attempt to pelt my pate with water traveling at 10 meters per second. I was able to traverse Central Park, and made my way to Barnes and Noble on Colorado Blvd.
   “The ultimate Potato Cookbook,” for Vera Monzano, John’s lovely mother. “The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Vol 1,” for John himself. “The Angels Within Us,” for my Rumanian angel, Aurica, and not a damn thing for McCree. He hadn’t even gotten me a birthday card, the miserable bastard. Nobody else did either though. Well, he’s just to miserable and pigheaded for a present. When he learns to get along with people more, well then we’ll see.
   I got a copy of “The Brothers Karamazov,” Dostoyevsky’s final novel (he died just four months after it’s publication), a complete Lord of the Rings trilogy in one book, for myself, and a copy of Maxim Magazine, with the lovely and talented Shannon Elizabeth on the cover, as well as the British edition of SFX.
   The SFX magazine would have arresting photos of nubile space bunnies within it, such as Xenia Seeberg, Jane Fonda, Rose Mcgowan, and Alyssa Milano. I got the magazine though for the investigative and well conceived articles.
   There was a nice picture of Laura Harris in there as well. She qualifies as a space bunny due to her role in Robert Rodriguez’s “The Faculty,” in which she played a role playing, aquatic, shape shifting alien, bent on world domination.
   Laura states that people now can conceivably live to up 140 years old, so she takes lots of vitamins.
   It’s good to plan ahead.  
   I returned to my room with all of my stuff. The rain had stopped trying to attack me by then.
   I wrote. The radio told me that American forces had captured Saddam Hussein alive, yesterday, just outside of his home town. He had been hiding in a shallow, grave like hole in the ground. He had a gun, but gave up without firing a shot.
   Everybody’s all excited that he was caught. I’m rather amazed that he allowed himself to be taken alive. Faced in his dilemma, dear reader, what would you do? It’s a hard thing to end one’s own life. I mean after a while you sort of get used to being alive, and no matter what trials and tribulations you may experience, it certainly is more comforting to remain alive rather than face the huge eternal uncertainty that is death.
   And it probably hurts to die as well.
   If our purpose in invading Iraq had been to topple Saddam, then that had been achieved months ago, and concluded yesterday. But that had not been out purpose. No we went there to find those pesky weapons of mass destruction that apparently had been a threat to us somehow.
   As of yet, no weapons of mass destruction. As of yet, no proven ties between Saddam Hussein and Al Qaeda.
   In my opinion Saddam should be torn apart very slowly, over a very long period of time, while being shown the evidence of his crimes, those committed in his name. But is America better off for having disposed him? Are the Iraqi people?
   No really. I want to know. Please tell me.
   There’s plenty more despots and mass murderers to be dealt with. Should the U.S. military be used to basically do Amnesty International’s job in other countries as well? An interesting question. Perhaps that would be a victory for global human rights. But probably not. The military is to clumsy to be of much use in that endeavor.
   Congress seems determined to enlarge the armed forces, despite resistance from the Pentagon. Got to keep that money going to Northrop Grumman, Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, General Dynamics, on and on, with our only conceivable military threat an increasing tendency toward authoritarian rule in Russia. But does might equal right as a foreign affairs policy?
   Of course it does!
   And delightedly so!
   Watch out Iran. We’re right next door.
   I watched the usual Sunday night shows. “The Simpsons,” “Malcolm in the Middle,” “Arrested Development,”  “The Ten Commandments.” I watched the last half of “Barton Fink.” I witnessed John Goodman steal the whole film. Then I went to sleep.
   I woke several hours later, coughing and hacking, and trying to catch my breath. When I calmed down I returned to sleep.
   Perchance to Dream I was in psychiatrist’s office, lying back on a recliner, telling her that I’d been having these strange dreams.
   “What kind of dreams Mr. Joyce?” she asked. I looked over at her and noticed she looked almost exactly like Famke Janssen, the lovely and talented Dutch actress, director, screenwriter and former fashion model.
   “It’s like I’m dreaming in chapters...”
   “Chapters? How so?”
   “It’s like a old time movie serial. In my dreams, this girl, who calls herself Maya, but is really the lovely and talented actress Suzanne Lloyd, is a carnival dancer, who keeps trying to lure me into a gymnasium, where Laura Harris turns into the giant, amphibious creature from outer space, who tries to turn me into her slave, but I escape...”
   “Interesting. Please, continue...”
   “Then Maya takes me to the roller coaster, where she tries to scare me to death.”
   “How could a simple roller coaster scare anyone to death, and why would she want to? You can see how silly and harmless this dream is...”
   “In the dream I have a heart condition that would allow me to die very quickly if I get to excited, like if I get too scared. And Maya works for Boeing.”
   “I see.”
   “I don’t think you’ll be able to help me.” And I got to leave, opening her office door only to see her secretary was Ms Lloyd. She smiled at me evilly. Terrified, I ran back into Ms Janssen’s  office and jumped out of the window. Fortunately her office was on the first floor, so I picked myself off and got back into the race, screaming into the night, as I heard Rod Serling say “They say a dream takes only a second or so, yet in that second, a man can live a lifetime. He can suffer and die, and who’s to say which is the greater reality? The one we know or the one in dreams? Between heaven, the sky, the earth, or in the...”
   “Shut the fuck up Rod!” I screamed.
   “Okay Rick.”
   And I kep running, never to be seen again...


15     December        Monday         Day 156


   I got up at 7:00 to meet Ron. We met in the cafeteria, and he watched me eat breakfast. At 7:30 we walked up to the clinic, arguing all of the way.
   “We was in Iraq because they had the capability to shoot missiles at us if they wanted to make them,” Ron maintained.
   “No we didn’t,” I said. “We were there because we were told Saddam Hussein already had weapons of mass destruction in his arsenal, just waiting to be used.”
   “No! Man, I’m telling ya Rick. Trust me. I saw it on Nightline!”
   This is another example of taking a position in reference to another position that is based on hearsay, anecdotal evidence, or one that is unsubstantially proven. It sounds good (sometimes... not in the above example), but has little truth or depth behind it.
   “We can’t go to war on the basis of what we think someone might do! For their perceived intentions.”
   “Well,we did!”
   He had me there.
   John was late opening the VFW office, so we talked to another benefits counselor.
   “VA unemployment? There is no such thing,” he told Ron, who, of course, insisted that there was.
   “A guy in my apartment building got it. He gets eight hundred and forty seven dollars a month. Are you sure?”
   “I’m positive. The VA does not pay veterans for being out of work. The only type of help your’re speaking about are compensation payments for service connected disabilities, or pensions. In order to be qualified for a pension you must be sixty percent disabled.”
   “And have served during a time of war?” I asked.
   “And have served during a time of war, yes.”
   “Are you sure,” Ron was still fishing.
   “Of course I’m sure. This is my job.”
   We went downstairs to find Sam, the CWT rep. He’s been gone for over a week now, and we hear he’s suffered a similar fate as my former case worker, Labren. He’s either flipped out, or relapsed.
   The ASAP desk lady referred us to Dr. Lo, who was handling Sam’s business for the time being.
   We told Dr. Lo that Sam had told us to see him about entering the CWT program. Lo said he’d check into it and get back to us.
   I walked to the housing trust office and sat around, waiting. I’ve smarted up recently, and have brought my writing materials with me, so when the phenomena of the time waiting while those who came after me were served first, would not be wasted.
   When I was the last one left, and could not possibly be ignored anymore, I was told to come back tomorrow to see if there was any openings. I was asking the desk lady about the new St. George Hotel, when Michael came up and asked me how much sober time I had, a question not easily answered. But I certainly had over six months abstinent from alcohol, which was what he actually wanted to know.
   He took me into the back office and gave me a brief interview, and I signed a few forms.
   “Oh, this wasn’t completed.” Michael was talking about the form my case manager had filled out, which he refused to complete, telling me I didn’t need it.
   “If they need further proof I’ll get a notarized letter,” he told me.
   What a dick.
   Michael told me to get it completed. He gave me a form that Labren had completed to show Johnson how it was done. I went and did this. Kenny Johnson’s door was open and he was in there eating peanut butter and crackers. I told him about getting a room, and probably moving in after the first, and gave him the form.
   “But you’re still working with Ms Sanchez, right?” he asked.
   “Oh yes. Very closely.”
   Both Johnson and Sanchez have been about as helpful as an audit from the I.R.S.
   I told him about Lo and CWT, and that I wanted to visit John Monzano and his mom in Camarillo over Christmas.
   “We don’t usually allow passes unless it concerns family reorientation.”
   “Well, they’re pretty much the only family I’ve got,” I told him. He told me to get back to him by the end of the week and he’d let me know.
   I stopped in my room a moment to see what Giselle was wearing, then returned to the trust office. I was the second to last person this time before Michael got back to me. He gave me a big file of papers to take to the Las Americas Hotel on 6th and Alameda. He told me it was a nice place.
   I ate lunch at the cafeteria. Rolled roast beef and mashed potatoes. Then back to ASAP. I was a lot busier than I wanted to be today.
   I received a 12 1/8 x 13 1/8 x 2 3/4 cardboard box from Odaga Corp at the post office.
   At last! Perhaps some news! After using the library computers for several hours I took my prize back to my room to discover what delights awaited within.
   Indeed, there was a letter, two in fact, written on the same piece of paper. One in Spanish and one in English... for gringos probably.
   This is what the one in English said to me:
   “Dear Richard [She calls me Richard] Surwillo: I would like to personally welcome you to my Fan Club. As an official member you will always be up to date with my professional projects as well as my personal life. Your support is very important to me. Thank you for becoming a member and I am sure you will get to know me better. Enclosed you will find:
                                                                      - My official biography
                                                                      - 1 Color picture 9 x 11, autographed
                                                                      - 1 Poster 11 x 17
   Remember you will find the club at http://www.odalysgarcia.org In the Fan Club you will find a contact section by E-mail, or you can also leave your message in (305) 460-2203. Your order number is _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.”
   I found the three items listed above. The biography was in Spanish, so I could not actually read it... however, I’ve been assured it’s official.
   I studied the two photographs carefully. It was her alright. No doubt about it. The smaller photograph was a picture I’d seen many times before. She was standing in a field of sparse, waist high shrubs, wearing a golden brown, leopard spotted, string bikini, her majestic dark hair swept back over her beautiful shoulders, adorned in a flesh colored headband, hands subtly placed at her lovely waist, deep dark eyes looking directly at the camera, peering through into the inner reaches of one’s soul.
   “With love from Odalys to Rick my #1 fan” was written along the left side, in a colum, the words stacked on top of each other in a strenuously seductive manner.
   This picture, and the letters, are my most prized possessions.
   The larger poster was of Odalys wearing a dark blue, almost black, leather top, very low cut (If I didn’t know better I’d say she was intentionally trying to emphasize her ample breasts and body), and a bikini bottom made of square and triangular bits of gold metal on leather, with blue stones. Her hair styled in long ringlets, falling delicately about her soft, reassuring shoulders. She stood before a wall of blue tile, and once again, was looking straight at me, her full lips slightly parted, as if she were about to say, “Come to me Rick. I need you now.”
   I checked the picture thoroughly to make sure she was all there. When satisfied, I continued on to the the last, unexpected item.
   The letter was dated December 1st, 2003, and hand written in English, which was most useful.
   “Hello Richard.
   Thank you for your
   concern. I am fine.
   My neck hurts sometimes
   But I am okay now
   I am sorry for the time
   but I have a lot of letters
   regarding the same. It’s nice
   to know my fans care.
   Thank you again
                   Odalys”
   The letter was written on a single piece of blank white paper, very similar to the paper I use to write. I’m hard pressed to find any difference in fact.
   Well. I never expected a personal reply. See what a little cash can do. Especially with women. Before I had actually joined the fan club I had sent two letters a week asking of her condition with no results. As soon as open my wallet a little, bamm! Instant gratification.
   I’m joking of course.
   Odalys, it was very sweet of you to write to me. I will stop bothering you with more letters now, and am very glad and relieved that you are not hurt too badly, but I would like to know a little more of the circumstances surrounding the actual accident. After all, it happened on my home turf. Once again, the next time your in town, call me (you have my number). I’ll be happy to drive you around.
   I wrote, then marveled at Nicole Kidman’s butt in “The Birthday Girl,” and then Kubrick’s “Lolita.” 
   Then to sleep, where I met Odalys in my dreams.
   And we danced the night away.


16      December     Tuesday         Day 157


   I got up late, 10:00 or so. I showered and left the building. I couldn’t get outside without doing so.
   I walked east on 6th Street to Alameda and the Las Americas Hotel.
   A nondescript, brick building, which stands next to a garlic and ginger wholesale outlet, the smell of the two substances permeating the area surrounding the entrance to the building on 6th.
   If I indeed move in here, at least I won’t have to worry about vampires anymore.
   Inside, a young, black gentleman gave me an application to fill out. I sat at a table in the small day room and did just that, filling it out as best as I could. I had forgotten to bring my address book with me, so I told the man at the front desk that I would leave, taking the form with me to be returned later.
   “When will you be back,” he asked.
   “Oh, sometime this afternoon,” I told him.
   He also gave me a form that was to be stamped by DPSS.
   I didn’t want to come back today. I didn’t want to go to the DPSS office. All I really wanted to do was have some fun. And I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one.
   And I wanted to watch “The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, extended version,” which I had found at the library, as preparation to watching “The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King,” tomorrow. But I would wind up spending 3 hours at DPSS, and returning to the hotel.
   But first I walked back to the Weingart for lunch. I showed my Spanish letter from Odalys to the maid, who was suitably impressed. I am now looked up to with awe and respect by the Weingart house service staff.
   I arrived at the DPSS office on 4th Pl, at 12:15, and checked in at Window 7 at 12:20. I have proof of this. I sat down in the large waiting area, as instructed, and began to wait to see my new DPSS case worker, for my name to be called. Fortunately I had brought my notebook and was able to write while waiting.
   An hour and fifty minutes later I was still waiting and writing.
   “Should I be concerned that I haven’t been called yet?” I asked the customer service lady.
   “Not really. Lunch is from eleven thirty to two o’clock, so your worker might just be getting back.”
   I had the Window 7 lady call my worker anyway.
   “Who did you see?” she asked.
   “Who? I haven’t seen anybody yet. I’ve been sitting and waiting to hear my name called.”
   “It says here on the computer that someone has already seen you. You haven’t seen anybody?”
   “No! I sure haven’t.”
   She called someone over and spoke briefly to them.
   “Take a seat. You’re name will be called,” she told me. That was at 2:10.
   At 3:08 I returned to the customer service desk and asked for my worker to be called again. This was done.
   “What do you want?” my worker asked, via the customer service lady.
   “I need this form stamped, and I want to know why I was shorted twenty three dollars on my check last month.”
   “That information cannot be given out today. Come back tomorrow at ten o’clock!” The customer service lady hung up the phone. Apparently my case worker was too busy to hear my reply.
   “I can’t come back tomorrow. It will have to be Thursday.”
   The customer service lady called my case worker again.
   “Come back Thursday at ten o’clock.”
   The Las Americas Hotel is just south of DPSS on Alameda. I walked from 4th Pl to 6th St, and was back in garlic land.
   “I’m glad you came back,” the desk man said. “They were kind of mad at me that I let you take it.”
   “Really.”
   “Uh huh.”
   “Is it like a top secret application form that we’re hiding from the Russians, or something?”
   “Yes.”
   I returned to my lonely room and began watching “The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring,” the first film in the trilogy. I stopped at approximately 30 min into the movie to have spaghetti and meat sauce in the cafeteria.
   Jackie Guerrido was off today, so I didn’t have to worry about the weather. I finished watching the tape near 9:00.
   Let me tell you about “The Lord of the Rings,” and it’s prequel “The Hobbit.” They are four of my favorite books, and have been since I first read them in my late teens. I knew they would make a great live action movie, but the technology at the time did not exist to adequately produce them. Besides, I wasn’t, and still am not, a film director. I was and am an alcoholic and irresponsible person, so I shouldn’t be trusted to get this movie made.
   Some guy made an animated version of less than one half of the story in the late 70‘s, and never finished it
   If Peter Jackson hadn’t come along I would have had to stop drinking, and become a movie producer. However, he did and I didn’t. He made the film so I wouldn’t have to. That was exceptionally considerate of him as I’ve been very busy.
   Okay, when the first film came out in December of 2001, the 19th to be exact, I was supposed to have entered a residential alcohol treatment facility in Pasadena, Grandview, it was called. I had been staying at the bare bones homeless shelter, Union Station, which was keeping me until I got into Grandview. After having waited a month or so, I was given the okay to move in on the 17th. I knew there was a 30 day restriction period during which I would be confined to the premises. That would not do, not with the film opening just two days later.
   Reasonable, mature people would have entered the program and wait 30 days to see the movie. But that’s what a reasonable, mature person would have done, not me.
   I showed up in the morning of the 17th and made the mistake of paying them a first deposit, then told them I had to get some form filled out or something, left and got drunk in a park, then returned, and was dismissed from the program without really having entered it (and the assholes kept my money). Union Station was now closed to me, not sharing my enthusiasm for J.R.R. Tolkien. So I was really homeless at that point. Fortunately, I had a couple of hundred dollars saved from GR, which I quickly went through by staying in a motel on Colorado Blvd., near the City College.
   I was drinking hard liquor rather heavily, which presently I cannot process as I did back when I was a relatively young alcoholic, just starting out. Still, I was in desperate and pathetic shape.   
   I did see “The Lord of the Rings,” though. Several times. Or at least the first half of the film before I usually passed out.
   The first time I saw it I remember getting up to the mines of Moria, then waking up in the psychiatric ward in Huntington Memorial Hospital. I stayed there a day. I didn’t want to leave, but they threw me out as I had no insurance. They referred me to Harbor Light in downtown L.A., and paid a taxi to take me there. I got out of the taxi while still in Pasadena, borrowed some money from friends at Union Station (no small feat), borrowed a bottle of rum from Vons, and went to see “The Lord of the Rings,” again, with much the same result.
   New Year’s Eve was spent drinking stolen booze and sleeping in a very cramped space under an outside staircase across from the hospital. When it got too cold, and began to rain, I couldn’t sleep anymore. I asked the police to arrest me and take me to jail, but they were too busy for my nonsense, with the Rose Parade and all. I spent the night sitting in the emergency room.
   They gave me a warm blanket. A male nurse, Mike, gave me $5. The next day I began my journey to the downtown Harbor Light... and Skid Row.
   Last year was a bit better. “The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers,” debuted on the 18th of December. I was staying at the Cecil Hotel near 7th and Main. I had recently quit my job doing customer service over the phone for parking violators. I was drinking an 18 pack of beer a day, which was much less detrimental to my physical and mental health than hard booze.
   I saw and enjoyed the movie at Citywalk, a tad hung over, suffering from low self esteem, and impending homelessness, my savings quickly disappearing.
   This year things are looking much better. I’m not drinking. My personal growth and self esteem are high. Depression is not an issue for me. I like what I’m writing. I have genuine interests that I believe are not egotistical, and the future looks as manageable as it ever can look.
   So far so good.
   The extended version of the first film I was watching today, I enjoyed very much. Cut out of the theatrical release due to time considerations, scenes that catered to the fans of the novels were included. The gifts of Galadriel to the Fellowship, and Gandalf’s frustration at not being able to open the door at Moria, which I especially enjoyed. New music was written for the scenes, and I think, all things considered and included, it all makes for a better (and longer) movie.
   I meditated after watching it, then went to bed and dreamed I was at a Hobbit dinner party along with Liv Tyler, Cate Blanchett, Miranda Otto, Enya, Sarah Mcleod, and Annie Lennox.
   We were at Bilbo Baggins 111th birthday party with 144 Hobbits of the Baggins’ acquaintance. The strange wizard Gandalf  had provided a fireworks show earlier. Now Bilbo took to the stage.
   “I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”
   Then he disappeared and the adventure began.