It’s now been 30 days to the day that I posted my first entry about my experience being homeless. The first one was long-winded and unorganized, as I too was long-winded and unorganized. Although only one comment made it to the page, I did receive many comments when I re-posted it on Los Angeles Craig’s List. One guy called me a fraud, and accused me of making it all up. Another guy threatened to burn down my “City of Babylon Whores.” Another woman said I’m the strongest woman she “knows.”
Right after I wrote the first “novella,” I was taken in by a friend who took pity on me and let me come and sleep in his garage in Santa Maria. I set up my little air-mattress and computer, and began the process of trying to rebuild. I’ll have to tell you, I think this part is actually more difficult that living in the truck. While I was on the road all those months, driving and singing from town to town, I was generally focused on daily survival. You know, the “next meal, next place to sleep” kind of thoughts. Now that I am indoors, with actual plumbing, I can now focus on the “how to get my life back” kind of thoughts (which were always there, but were fraught with impossibility). At least now I have internet and can post ads for work, etc., and receive replies. I’ve been posting like crazy all over the web; everything from ads for a business partner, ads for live-in jobs, etc. Something has to stick eventually. All I know is that I have to get back to Los Angeles so that I can be close to my AA group, be able to meet with potential business partners, and generally feel like a human being again.
When I first got up here to Santa Maria, I was still mentally traveling, so my first reflex was to drive around and explore my new environment. I’ve done that for each new city I’ve stayed in. I like it up here, but it’s four hours from my beloved L.A., and all I can do is compare with unfairness. I’m so beyond homesick now, that it just hurts. Have you ever gone on vacation, and although you’re having fun, you can’t wait to get home to your own bed? I’m on my seventh month of feeling that way, and it doesn’t get better. I would love to candy-coat it for you; hell, for me…but I can’t. It hurts like hell. I’ve never felt this far away from myself.