Tales From The Shelter – 5
My shrink is in West Van and I braved the seabus and bus today to reach her. It was an uneventful hour with me mostly complaining about my living situation…after all, I have to have SOMEONE to bitch at; us residents can only go so far with humour, cynasim and sarcasm. Some type of greatfullness has to be expressed to make the situation seem better, to cover your ass lest word leak to the powers that be, and it does untwist the mind somewhat, from an oppressive lifestyle.
The shelter seems to be more punitive in reaction to suggestions and complaints, revealing that their spiritual components only reach as far as chapel service and the fellowship gained from taking their courses. Big Brother, in this case, seems to be gender confused, for one, and the hierarchy top heavy with religion and business. The model simply doesn’t work and for us who speak out, we are put on monthly review over extensions rather then the 3 months alloted to the lemmings (or the clever as it may be).
Homeless women have never been a part of this organization until a couple of years ago. They don’t quite seem to know what to do with us but do enjoy nipping us in the bud, so to speak. What is this, mind-clitectomy or something? I’m not sure.
Retarded Martha and Jay the Jew were conferring in the smoke pit this morning. Martha’s finally found a snotty buddy, the two of them can understand each other as we are beneath them and knew middle class before falling from grace. We’re all quite happy they’ve discovered each other as aren’t interested in speaking with either. I admit to getting satisfaction last night by moving things around in the smoke pit…a chair over here, an ashtray over there, just to see if it would rile Martha’s obsessive compulsive disorder. Not a move back or peep from her mouth, darn.
If I could look out my window I’d be happier. But they’ve placed a frosting on it with circles you can peer out of if you stand up close to it. Why did the architects want to create this prison-like window buffoonery?
Supper is being served shortly…chicken burgers with onion rings. I’ll go down and collect my portion then bring it upstairs along with delivering Manna’s to her. It’s been two weeks since she’s been out of her room but I got her walking down the hall a bit today. I’ll tell you more about her later, I don’t want to talk about her right now.
Gordon Campbell, rot in hell.