“Homeless” is a word that’s only used by sedentary people to whom THE HOUSE (an unmovable structure) is the greatest possession they have. For such people, having a house is desirable above all things. We (Travellers) don’t feel the same way. We are all around you, but you don’t even see us. I am not talking about the poor, “homeless,” local people who sleep on the streets. We are the Others; we hide in your midst. And we have always been there. The Gypsies and nomads among the settled people.
I posted that (above) on Facebook today.
I was writing haiku (17 syllable, Japanese poetry) in my tent last evening. I was watching nature. I was chilly, and the tent was damp. I was stoned. My computer wouldn’t turn on. I was taking photos of wet spider webs. It was all desperation and funny.
I played Dan Fogelberg’s great Kentucky Derby song this morning. “Run For the Roses” is a classic. Good on ya, Dan!
Like any good IT-Crowd-person, I walk around all the time now with my iPod on. I don’t have to listen to any shit from the people around me or say “hi” or anything. I stay in my own little world, and I just have fun!
Have lots of older (my age) Aspies gotten bitter and cynical because of being an outcast and not understanding that they are Aspies/Geeks/IT Crowd?? Now, every Aspie, practically, in the US anyway, has grand opportunities to find their crowd. Being a geek/nerd has its own status, and we recognize our overwhelming presence in the IT field. It’s so awesome. Thank god I didn’t get bitter and cynical before finding my crowd among the Aspies, Geeks, and IT-ers. It’s SO AWESOME being part of this crowd; I love it! It’s like now I have a whole new social life. Or it’s like now I HAVE a social life.
The people here in Ojai are friendly but mistrusting of anyone “different.” As Gogol Bordello sing: “(I) never did fit the frame invented by the gringo.”
Travellers are a loose fellowship, not a tight group. A Traveller’s life is work! People imagine that it’s all fun and games. Wow, is that a romanticized notion. My last five-month trip was lots of work and stressful; after a month camping out I am finally recovering. Resting. This is my “vacation.”
For tourists–people who have lives (homes, cars, etc.) to return to, travel is the vacation; it’s fun and easy. Very different from Travellers.
There won’t be many Gypsies in Alaska. California is full of Travellers (Gypsies), immigrants (some on the move or recently arrived), and other nomadic people.
My tent is my spirit dwelling, my retreat. It’s a beautiful place to be, a tent. It’s been very cold and damp in my tent for the past three days. I can’t sleep some nights because the ground is so hard and rocky (even with my pad). Some man makes a loud cough every time he passes the path that leads to my (hidden) tent. Does he know I’m there? Is it a warning (of what?)? Is it a friendly hello? Is it chance? Will he steal my tent ($260)? Ah, I’m worrying; it does no good to worry.
Saw a dozen wild turkeys as I walked down Thacher Road this morning. Two of the males had their tail feathers up and were courting. It was a very beautiful sight.
I wear my T-shirt for a week or so and then buy a new (used) one at a thrift shop ($2) and throw or give away the old one. Very easy. Showers twice a week or so.
Following Baudelaire’s advice (stay drunk…on whatever!), I bought a $3 bottle of wine at Star Market here in town yesterday (not as good as Trader Joe’s $3 wine). I drank a little at my cold, cold camp; then, I brought a little (water) bottle of it to town today. It doesn’t keep me warm, it just takes my mind off the weather. I can’t drink much of it at one time (as usual); I get sick if I do. It’s fun to drink it secretly here at the Ojai Library while munching on raw brocolli.
After Alaska, I want to go to Ireland, Scotland, England and Spain.
I posted this on FB today:
Southern California is rich with nomads, Gypsies, immigrants (new, old and on-the-road), and other nomadic Americans (truckers, musicians, kids learning the ropes of the road, etc.). It’s a real fertile place for Travellers to hang for awhile in between trips. I love it because the weather is almost always great for camping, and masses of poor people mingle with the rich and famous in a pretty generally peaceful stew.
Sam is 10-years-old today! He is my Darling! But I am LETTING IT GO. “It” being Megan and the whole situation with Megan. She is having a hard time and blaming me for everything. Best to just let it go for now. Someday, Sam and I will get back together again. I will tell him the truth. (Meg and Jeramy and Jeramy’s family have lied to him about many things.)
Here’s what I posted on Facebook today:
“Homeless,” as I use the word, is not a metaphor for anything. I am talking about ACTUAL PEOPLE who don’t live in permanent, solid structures (what sedentary people insist are the only real homes). People like me, who do not live in settlements (and who adamantly do not want to live in houses) are called “homeless.” WE HAVE HOMES; you don’t recognize them as such. We are always moving in and out of your towns, but you don’t notice us; we try to blend in. We try to avoid your condemnation. (Note: By “you,” I mean the general public.) The Poor = a whole different group than the HOMELESS people I am talking about.
Money’s dwindling. Asked Seth for a small loan ($25 or $50) to get me through the month. Hanging out at cafes is expensive!
I love the “Avatar” (movie) image of riding my dragon. I imagine my “dragon” to be my Soulmate.
My Soul, inner (private, individual) world: Naco (Spanish). Hillbilly. Nature-lover. “Honey Boo Boo” (TV show about Redneck family). “Avatar” (movie). Yang.
My Heart, outer (social, public) world: Harry Potter (books/movies). Addams Family (cartoon/movies). Jeeves and Wooster (books/TV series). Fresa (Spanish = “strawberry-eaters”; preppies; elites; privileged classes. Yin. Technomad.
My Enneagram is #4. The Romantic. The “wings” or leanings to one side or the other are, on one side: Bohemians (the Honey Boo Boo side of me). And on the other side: Aristocrats (the Jeeves and Wooster side of me).
I love my late afternoon/early evening pot-smoking sessions at camp. I relax and just look around me, being In-the-Now. I like how pot lets me think less and relax more. This is wonderful for observing nature.
I was telling my adopted nephew, Chuck (Hillman), at Patagonia today (morning coffee): I am not a thinker. (He is.) I prefer to feel, be intuitive and mystical, and just be grounded in my senses (smelling and looking at and listening to what’s around me).