Archive for July, 2010
The Jailbird is the token woman ex-prisoner on our floor. She’s a charming character and bright as hell. Her boyfriend is one of the ex-con guys here. Two weeks ago the probation officers in the building put a ‘no contact order’ on them. For no reason. Jailbird went to her councillor and the councillor knew nothing about it, the probbie officers hadn’t told her and she was furious. The councillor had the order rescinded but then the P.O.’s put a no contact order on the guy’s buddies. Furor was had again.
Now, with only 4 days remaining until the boyfriend’s parole is over they went and put a no contact order on again. Jailbird’s peeved as all hell and I don’t blame her. She says it’s like that, that they test you to the max and if you snap, which is a likely occurrance, you’re back in prison starting all over again. She says they’re nothing but guinea pigs in the sick system.
I still swear there’s petri dishes with rotting, molding spores of some type placed by the intake air ducts that go to our floors and are directed away from the first and second levels as well as the high and mighty 8th floor.
The Queen of the Carribean is still struggling with housing and immigration matters. She only gets 3 months at the Silly before she has to find her own place. To date they’ve presented her with shared accomodations in New Westminster and Surrey. She turned them down, gee, I wonder why. Her reading and writing skills aren’t the best but she’s a smart cookie, the big challenge being able to hold on to here until something suitable comes up.
Meantime , Retarded Martha is in a quandry because her boyfriend says he’s head over heels for her and the question of sex has come up. She’s told a couple of the gals she’s not ready, despite their relationship of a few months now. If she’s not ready, she’s not ready but the sorority gal dramas are just a bit too much. If you get caught in conversation with her she’ll tell you all about her clothes and what she has in her room…this in addition to her personal philosophies that could be found in a grade 5 self help book. Curly is ready to slug Martha but Curly knows that she’ll have to settle for a viscious verbal attack.
Yesterday I went to a Pro Bono lawyer over a con man ripping me off for my computer and a few other things. Looks like I’ll have to go the route of small claims court, but the guy’s so versed in the system the lawyer said mr. rip-off will probably keep delaying the court date. My best scenario is to get Conman’s welfare cheque garnisheed. The fee for small claims court has risen from $100 to $250 so that keeps low life scums like myself out of the picture unless I want to slap it on my visa and take the chance I can even find the guy. The law is for the rich, and it’s getting to be for the richer.
I’m being stubborn and not cracking into my yogurt for the acidophillus while I take the anti-biotics for my bladder infection. Maybe I secretly like being sick because I can stay in my room and sleep alot and escape from the bullshit of being here. Don’t know. I do know that yesterday I was melancholy and wanted everything to be like it was before my ex kicked me out of the house and I ended up living in my vehicle. The yearning was strong and I wanted to phone him and everything would be ok but that’s not a reality. I’m eating toast this morning without my dentures in because I’m missing my old teeth when they were in good shape, before my meds started rotting them. It hurts my gums but it’s good to taste what I’m eating. The govenment cares fuck-all about oral hygene and has made cut backs in that department. When are they going to cut their own selves back? Bureacracy is like a beautiful hand sewn quilt to these political monsters, while it’s just a newspaper covering on a park bench to us low life scum sucking leeches.
Ugh…the young crack ho on our floor must have been into the drugs last night because her pancake makeup is about 3 inches thick, she does this to cover up her pale and peeked complextion the morning after and it makes you want to stay outside of three feet of her in case you run into her pancake and it smears against you. Because she slipped she’ll be on the band wagon today about how her and her boyfriend are doing so well and don’t want their old drug life back together. What a lark. Meantime their 10 month old kid is in a foster home and they see her twice a week.
I’m going back to bed to watch some more of ‘The Naked Lunch”. This film is beyond David Lynch but not quite past the fantasical minds of many of the workers and inmates here.
Don’t get me wrong, those of us staying at the Silly are greatful to have a roof over our heads, and a clean one at that. While most of the shelters have bed-bug protocol and you must shower and change into clothes they give you while ALL your belongings are being chemically sprayed, the Silly doesn’t do this, which leads me to believe they are sending something through the closed ventilation system. How could so many get so sick so often? Yes, it’s closed circulation but so are a lot of buildings…and the Silly very very rarely has bed-bugs show up. So while we’re greatful, we’re no dummies either …something’s going on.
The Councillors and Admin are on the 2nd and 8th floors. Staff doesn’t get sick very often. OK, so why not? Flu shots are mandatory for them, so are they being inoculated for more then just the average public? Right now I don’t care too much, I just want to get over whatever damn bug it is I have. GAWD, GIVE ME ENOUGH ENERGY TO GET OUT OF THIS BUILDING FOR A BIT!!!!!!
Retarded Martha’s boyfriend is moving out so now she’s seeking her own place. Oh hallelujah, let the Silly Bells ring, we won’t have the two of them speaking to each other through the crack in the metal wall anymore. We were starting to get desperate, they’re so loud and she’s making a point of telling us things via her dialogue with him. Everyone bolted to the park when this happened last night…I slept through from 5pm on so missed it. We were thinking of investing in magnets for the wall and hoping she has an i.u.d. so we could slam her against it. Desperation is the mother of some inventions.
Jailbird Janet is getting a student loan to become an x-ray technician. She’s hilarious, a real good character. Welfare won’t give her a cheque between now and when her loan comes through so she’s seething. She’s a really really bright woman and was in the slammer for fraud and a few other things…she’s capable of doing way more then being an x-ray tech but just wants to get back into working and fast, so she’ll bare with the training time then move to greener pastures down the road. Meantime she’s going to have to land on the bureauratic doorstep of just the right welfare case worker, and that door step is often well greased. “so long, see ya in the slide’. Best of luck to her!
Of all the women here on my floor I’d have to say only three have been abusers of the welfare system…you know, the ones who lie around watching tv all day and mooching off of everyone else. Fuck you, ladies, go eat your dollar store bon bons elsewhere.
Retarded Marthas been very quiet lately…part of this is owing to her having a very bad cold, the other part is no one’s been speaking to her. Maggy told Martha she was interupting a private conversation, in very terse terms, after Martha butted in, as usual. I Actually responded to Martha for the first time in about 2 months when yesterday she asked me if I wanted a bag of chips. The kitchen had flats of chips donated that expired at the beginning of the month, so that means they’re probably still good for another month yet. I let Martha know that I was fine.
It’s typical that groups of people will take on one another’s expressions and I told Maggy she was saying, “but that’s ok”, just like Martha. Maggy just about had a bird until I told her I was saying it too. We’re doing a self awareness campaign on this now.
The other night, Thumper, a new and young woman came out onto the smoking deck. Like Martha, she breezes in and starts taking over. Fuck, she was complaining because her church group had set up at Vancouver’s infamous Pigeon Park, a long time hang out for derelicts, rubbies, junkies, and now crack and meth ho’s. Thumper thought it was very rude that some men were drinking rubbing alcohol mixed with soda pop and were fighting while her church group had set up a band with sound amplification, and were pontificating how they could help them all through Jesus.
I don’t have anything against Mr. Nazareth, but Thumper and her kind just don’t cut the grade preaching their shit through micraphones, especially to the down and out. From the other side, they’re thinking, ‘hurry up with your bullshit so we can hopefully get some food from you’. Some of the down and outers are christian themselves but if you’re not ready for fixing, you’re not ready.
Here at the Silly the cult of Christianity lies in certain chaplains who offer resources not normally broadcast through regular channels. Oh how wonderful…this means if you attend the sermons you’re bound to find out where a secret food bank or employment center is. It becomes convenient to become christian….abide with their ways , become part of the fellowship, don’t fall into the bullshit brainwashing and you’ll get yourself along a bit further with saving money and gaining networking.
Thumper probably got sucked in this way, and thank gawd Maggy took her aside and told her to keep the Jesus thing off the smoking pit.
Most of us here are spiritual to some degree…the Silly seems to think the only path to spirituality is through Jesus. I don’t think Mr. Nazareth would have wanted it this way, and people like Thumper and the chaplains probably have the age old image of him as white with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. They can’t stop to think he was middle eastern and probably had dark skin with dark, curly hair.
Retarded Martha’s been leaving the door to her room open these days under the auspices of getting air circulating in there. I’m sure she wants people to take a gander and compliment her on it. Martha is definetly not christian by convenience. I think she needed some fellowship in her life that would accept her and one day she found it; but as I’ve said before she’s christan by rote.
I’m sick, I have a rotten cold. Athir took me along to the dollar store today to get some items and the line up at the check out was long so i sat on a child’s plastic chair. It shattered, so I kicked the bit against the wall and endured the line up instead. Every single time I’ve gone out for a smoke today , Martha’s been there. Having Athir take me out was good except I wish she’d brush her teeth more because her breathe stinks and it’s the kind that engulfs the air. I’m just not happy these days and can find the smallest fault with anyone. I need a vacation from here, like about a years worth.
I finally found out something more about this ill designed building, and that’s that the architect solely designs prisons. Well fuck around, eh, no wonder everything’s so fucked up.
Last week I was told I may not be able to do healing treatments here. My Councillor said the floor manager was aware that I do this sort of thing and thought it best for my own sake that I not do this as someone may make a claim against me, say, if they thought I hurt them or something.
It’s no secret I’m a healer in the First Nations tradition. It is my gift, we all have our own gifts. Sometimes the women ask me to take away their headaches, the aches and pains out of their necks and shoulders, stuff like that. I do both hands on and hands off work.
I told my councillor that I’m not concerned about anyone coming back on me but perhaps this place is concerned they may be named in a libel suit if I was accused of something. “Oh no no no”, replied my councillor, that’s not it at all. She said the manager said it’s probably against the rules and he’s looking over the rules. This has been a real mind-fuck.
There’s 18 million rules here , in this place that plugs itself as non-judgemental. Break a rule without knowing the rule existed and you are given shit. Guility before proven innocent, Napoleanic Law.
So, the manager doesn’t like me doing God’s work – healing people – I guess he’s jealous and thinks you have to have a special piece of paper to do this , along with appropriate bible study. Well, let’s see, Jesus was a healer and I don’t recall hearing anything about him having a diploma from the Nazareth School of Healing and Sea Parting. So maybe the Silly can take a lesson from themselves, because it seems they’re always tripping up on themselves.
They have taken the confession booth away so it’s simpler and easier for people in the chapel to merely discuss with one another their sins and that the devil got into them , so they absolve themselves of any responsiblity. Guess what? They reserve that only for themselves, the little lambs following the Captains and Majors in marching rows, two by two. So along comes a person like me and hey, I’m a sinner because I don’t know their rules but it’s my responsibility – huh?
Last week I went into the garbage/recycling room to get a cardboard box. I got shit. Why? Because us tenants aren’t supposed to go in there. Wait a minute…I let them know tenants go in there all the time. They said that doesn’t matter, it’s off limits and I was basically bad. This despite there’s no sign saying ‘keep out’ or ’employees only’ or anything to that effect.
Guess I’m going to burn in hell. Boy, this is some spiritual workplace, you know, what with them saying prayers before meetings…wow, that’s the creme de la creme of being spirtual on the job. Hey, let’s get mad at the tenants for whatever we feel like , and damned if you talk back or put in a greivance becuase that can be grounds for getting kicked out.
So, yes, the devil made me do it but their judgements and rules seem to go against the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedom….so we’ll see what the manager has to say should he be able to dredge up such a rule on healing…my bet is if he broaches it again and I ask to see the hard copy, which is my right as a tenant, that that copy just isn’t going to show up.
At the Silly, you’re supposed to stay in a position of weakness, say, like a lamb. This makes for good faux biblical posturing and keeps you in a state of servitude while the heirarchy plays God. Their mission statement reads that they are non-judgemental, but that’s only as long as you stay in the field and go , ‘Baaaaaah’. Signs of strength, like pointing out what may be oh-so-wrong here land you with threats of being kicked out.
Right now I’m on precarious grounds because it so happens I have the gift of healilng and help people out with all sorts of ailments like back aches, sore knees, headaches etc.. My councillor told me the manager says I’m not supposed to be doing that here as it’s against the rules and for my own benefit. I asked how this would be for my benefit and was told that someone might complain that I hurt them or a treatment didn’t turn out right and damaged them somehow. I said I was fine, that I’d been doing this for a long time and the closest any came to being hurt was because they were silly enough to move their neck around while i was working on it.
My councillor told me the manager thinks this is against the rules and he’s looking through the book. I said I thought that perhaps the true concern lay with the Silly as they were afraid of liability. She denied this.
So why, in a place that says it’s non judgemental , would they want to stop someone from doing the work of God (God in their terms). Call it what you want, energy work, Creator coming through me, whatever…..all I know is a higher power comes through me and people feel better, they’re pain taken away. How would I know the answer to this and why would I even bother to question much about it…I would drive myself up the wall so I just accept it.
But if the Silly is a house of God , are they jealous or afraid because their spiritual enlightenment is not as advanced as mine? I tread on delicate water here as don’t want to sound like I am in some sort of advanced position, perhaps it’s best I say that I have discovered how to tap into a level of energy that most people have not reached. It’s not a big deal, but don’t tell me I cannot heal people in your building, your building which sits on unceded First Nation’s territory, and not use First Nation’s ways to help people. This brings us back to the concept of conquering, oppression, and genocide. Really, it’s not much different from how Residential Schools operated.
Meantime The Six Nation Lacrosse Team has been denied passage to Great Britain using Iroquois issued passports to play in a tournament. They are told they have to use ‘Canadian’ passports. Why? Lies are told, like how every person in this nation is Canadian. OH? And since when did the conquering of a people make them nationals of the conqueror, that’s what I want to know because this country still does not adhere to Queen Ann’s Royal Order of the early 1,700’s which says all First Nations must be dealt with on a nation to nation basis , with a third, neutral party included. This has never happened, never taken place, making Canada a nation in fraud and treason unto itself.
I’ll wander around the councillor floor today to see if the manager has found the ‘rule’ that says I cannot do healings here. This could be interesting.
Meantime, retarted Martha has a new friend, for now, and the woman is strong and talks over Martha instead of the vice versa. I cannot thank myself enough for telling Martha she is not to speak to me…it’s like avoiding toxic shock syndrome because really, she’s like a used tampon or something. I know it sounds gross, but she is gross…perhaps not by any doing of herself, but she’s staying in self denial as isn’t ready to look at herself, perhaps because her childhood was too heinous.
Welfare Wednesday , or Mardi Gras as it’s called, falls on this Wednesday. The sirens will be going all night, the crack-heads spending their cheques in one fell swoop, the welfare recipients looking like vultures for the persons on disability because we get slightly more. It’s also the start of the Festival of Fireworks, so I’m sure the crackheads will somehow have an augmented high….imagine, paying $20 for a piece of rock that will get you high for 10 minutes.
When it got too cold last year to live in my van anymore I turned to a homeless shelter. I can’t remember how I found out about it, but I lost my shelter innosense there. It’s hard to write right now as my evening meds have kicked in and i’m working my way through mud and tar.
I made a big step today…having completed a Silly Ann volunteer project I felt confident enough that I can re-enter the work place. There are different outfits that handle ‘persons with disabilities’ and went to one my Silly councillor recommended. During the intake I cried a lot. Everything surfaced about where I am in life – living in a shelter, no work, collecting disability, and those ever pervading messages from childhood that say I’m stupid.
Next up was a visit to a center for persons with disability but they really couldn’t help me with anything. I think the job re-entry program merely sends people to various places to make it feel like they care about you…this seems common in the world of homeless bureaucracy. I’d like to send them all the moon.
Going to the second outfit produced more tears and I do believe my tears were more like blood. Why don’t these people just cut you open with a knife? I know it’s not the individual’s fault but Christ, the paperwork is endless and today i felt like everything was hopeless.
Back at the Silly Retarded Martha was speaking to the crack in the wall on the smoking pit that seperates the men from the women. She has a crush on one of the guys and actually went out with one of them for a while. I’m going to guess he dumped her because if they ever pooled enough for a hotel room she probably talked all the way through sex. “your a little too far over, but that’s ok because my personal God will take care of that”.
A guy’s been coming around selling cigarrettes in packs for $5. He claims he was part of the demo crew for a restaraunt and store that burned down so grabbed the smokes. He says he wants to sell them to us as realizes we don’t have much money. Everyone is talking about how nice it is of him to do this. I figure he’s chosen the right market because what else is he going to do with them? Walk East Hastings whispering , ‘cigarrettes’…no, I doubt it. Or wait for kids going in to the 7-11? NO! A homeless shelter is pretty safe because no ones going to squeal on him. I bought a pack but it tastes like burned building.
I also got to meet the drug sniffing dog that comes here and her owner. He said he is contracted out for $150/ hour and it cost $10,000 to have the dog and him trained in the U.S.A.. The dog is a german shepard but the owner said beagles and shelties are used a lot at places like airports where it’s not good to freak out the people. Bomb-sniffing dog outfits get paid $300/hour. He says dogs are in big demand.
I’m tired and the day was weird. Besides the big step to registering to get job retraining, a woman on our floor was all freaked out as a bad man wanted me to pick up her furniture and some of her belongings. She finally calmed down but i can hear through the wall now that she’s on the phone and being all freaked out again.
Over and out.
The mix of people staying at the Silly Ann Hotel is varied. Most have some sort of mental illness or mood disorder and are recovering addicts. I’m a mood disorder, but it gets lumped in with mental illness. We’re a dime a dozen and of the $925 I get monthly for disability , $375 goes to the Silly Ann. Where their real bread comes from is the men who just got out of prison, especially the violent or sexual crime ones….that hovers over $5,000 a month. Female prisoners only allot the Silly $1, 700. Men prisoners are given $70/week (month living allowance, women are given straight welfare at $235/month. Make sense, sound fair…nuh uh.
You can tell who the pedophiles and rapists are….they just plain look creepy. No kidding. It gets confirmed by the women inmates, and they are boiling mad about it. No wonder. There’s children here. And women. The peds eye up the kids in the cafeteria , it’s sickening. Generally the guys don’t know the rapists or ped’s – it would be too hard for them to contain themselves and blood would spill on the floors of the Silly.
the Hotel thrives on donations and government money; I think they’ve gone too far. There should be seperate housing for these sickos , in fact there should be a seperate, isolated island, well patrolled, with some survival tools like axes, gardening equipment, and that’s about it. No guards. Just patrolling ships. Oh ya, and let’s not forget castration, although a guy can still get hard. Maybe a quick Bobbitt would do too.
Money. It’s at the hand of almost everything. The Silly is no exception.