Have you ever traveled to a foreign country and all you took was a tent?
I have. And I’ll tell you what. Two issues I had repeatedly was with sightseeing and having my bulky luggage with me, and with staying clean.
I have a couple problems that I myself am having as a homeless man, problems that budget travelers have as well – and these COULD potentially be business opportunities for you.
Here they are:
- I need a place to store my luggage during the day.
Whether you’re a budget traveler, or a homeless guy or gal – one of the biggest problems I have when wanting to do simple things like blend in, see the sights, or just hang out at a restaurant or pub – is finding convenient locations to store my stuff.A place – preferably a locker – that’s safe, secure, and that I know – at the end of the day – I OR ANY TRAVELER can go to and pick up my stuff without effort.
The place HAS to be close to me – walking distance, and it also has to be VERY inexpensive – for me and budget travelers – where someone who cares about me might volunteer to pay for it OR free potentially provided as a non profit benefit for homeless peopleNow for the business model, to avoid someone seizing a locker for a year – you could charge rent for it in the same way Public Storage does for their storage units. Daily rent. Weekly. Or Monthly. All prepaid. The contents of which would be cleared out after 2x the length of the time not receiving payment for it.
This service, if marketed right, and placed in high profile areas – strip malls, near metro stations, and by the major theme parks – could also target travelers who have checked out of their hotel and need a place to store their luggage for the day.
Homeless contributions could be written off on your taxes as charity contributions.
- EXTREME budget travelers need a place for a hot shower or bath. In Hungary, there’s something called ‘public baths’ where you can go in, take a hot bath in a community type arrangement. and hang out – literally and figuratively for a while.
So let’s say you’re touring anywhere. Switzerland, Indonesia, Mexico, or here in the United States. Where you could barely afford the plane ticket, so you brought a tent to sleep in.
Where are you going to keep clean?
I myself am not a fan of the public bath, but whether I am a budget traveler or a homeless dude, I could certainly use a nice hot bath or shower ON MY schedule. Some churches in the neighborhood offer this at very specific times. but most homeless people are LIKE budget traveler and not living by a watch, clock, or cell phone, so timing this based on charity alone flat out isn’t practical
MANY homeless who sleep in cars or those who don’t mind begging get memberships to local gyms just for the shower. I myself don’t beg and take a bottle to do my sponge bath every day at the park.
But we’ll put it this way. IF I could take a bath or shower on a regular basis at a corner shower. I’m so there.
Having a realistic option where I’m – in a literal sense – not freezing my balls off when I go to wash them with cold water – would be a NICE TO have in this – OR ANY city I visited and was passing through.
I LOVE traveling. If every American city had places like these two places, I might actually be inclined to go be homeless in other cities – or even go abroad again – maybe finding work overseas that I’d dreamed about since I obtained my MBA – that way – when I went to do things during the day – I wouldn’t have my luggage, tent, and backpack and I’d feel more human.
Budget travelers could benefit from this as well.
And they have more expendable money than I as a homeless man does, for sure.
In any case.
YOUR business opportunity benefits me as a homeless guy by making it easier for me to ‘blend in’, to ‘smell clean’ and to not have to lug all my crap around.
Not only do you benefit the community with this.
You also benefit the budget travelers looking for consistent and predictable arrangements for bathing and temporary storage of their items so they can see your cities around the world.
In 1995, I was married to a woman who I regarded as the perfect woman for me.
We had met while I was attending Arizona State University way back in 1993, where I was in a fraternity at the time – the PIKEs – or Pi Kappa Alpha – and she was in a sorority – the Gamma Phi Betas.
I’d met Lisa in an intro to Humanities class while at ASU – my attention was drawn to her friend – JJ – but Lisa pursued me – as she sat behind me in the class and complimented me on my nice legs.
It was the first time in my life I’d had a woman pursue me.
And I loved it.
Lisa and I went on our first date the Friday of the first week we met – my friend and fraternity brother Rob agreed to a double date as Lisa had made prior plans with a girl friend of hers but if we’d made it a double date, it became a win/win.
For Rob, it didn’t work out – the two were a total mismatch, something I’d suspected would happen from the start.
I learned Lisa was a nude dancer at a local gentleman’s club, where she was earning $500 a night which was paying for her apartment, car, and for ASU – which was extremely costly.
On learning this, I remained emotionally distant at first, but for Lisa and I, who spent pretty much every night over the next week under the covers in my fraternity room, we quickly became inseparable.
And I found her profession somewhat exciting and – liberating to me considering what happened with my first marriage which I was a control freak and not happy with the results of that marriage.
Sure, there were hiccups along the way.
JJ, for instance, had expressed interest in me and asked me out while Lisa and I were still dating.
I said no, and hid it from Lisa.
Eva Zaugg, a German girl attending school as NAU I met while on spring break in Mazatlan and I hooked up with as well when we returned to my house.
The latter nearly broke Lisa and I up, but I learned something valuable – that Lisa’s amazing personality stood in sharp contrast to someone like Eva and JJ.
Having been married once before – a marriage ending in divorce when my ex wife had cheated on me, in part I have myself somewhat to blame because I was a control freak – as I said before – so I moved slowly with Lisa in regards to marriage and commitment for that and the stripper reason. I wasn’t interested in another failure without understanding myself a little better and having experienced a little (lot) more of life – and women….
Around 1994, Lisa switched from nude dancing to topless dancing at the classiest club in Phoenix – Tiffany’s cabaret – which I myself went to frequently, and I even brought friends there on occasion – I found it funny to surprise my friends by acting surprised when I saw my girlfriend on stage.
I loved Lisa. and loved her open sexual nature and comfort in her own skin.
Envied it in fact.
So in 1995, I proposed to Lisa, and we were married about 6 months later when we honeymooned in Hawaii, staying at the Four Seasons resort in Maui which was a costly $450 a night, and down the street I went to my first nude beach where I hung out – literally and figuratively – at the Little Makeena beach in Maui.
In early 1996, I had an offer from a friend that I couldn’t refuse.
Ron – called from Vegas – and had learned some of my early work on the Hotel Reservation project for the Mirage Hotels had subsequently seen acceptance from the management and resulted in Microsoft’s win of a large scale multi -year, multi-million dollar project.
To me, it meant $65 an hour, full flights weekly from Las Vegas to Phoenix and back, $35 a day per-diem for food, a rental car paid for of my choice, and a hotel room at the Treasure Island hotel. Most of the time, the hotel room was a suite with a jacuzzi.
I was making $40 an hour at the time, I was only 26 years old, so when offered $2600 a week for my services, I just couldn’t say no.
But I hated flying. Was fucking afraid of it to be honest. So I’d have to get over my fear of flying fast, which had me taking up flying lessons and quickly overcoming my fears to spend the greater part of a year away from Lisa.
It was hard.
Extremely difficult in fact.
Accusations flew both ways about extra-marital affairs all the time, I assured her she had nothing to worry about, and trying not to be the man I was in my previous marriage, I chose to trust her and believe her when she said she was being faithful.
So in January of 1997, when I returned from the contract for good and found a nice contract job with Intel, Lisa and I both had resumed our partying ways similar to how when we first dated, and we began fighting regularly.
It wasn’t fun.
I worked too much. Often working from home, my work hours were up to 60 hours a week. So when Lisa learned I had to work on a Friday or Saturday night, she’d make plans to go out with her friends.
With my newfound wealth and feeling a little insecure, I bought a slightly used Triple Burgundy Convertible 1996 Corvette, unsure if my wife was going to pull the same shit my prior wife did, but not wanting to accuse her because of what I’d been through and not liking my control freakish self.
I refused to let anyone drive it.
My father. Even my wife.
Then one fateful night, in August of 1997, Lisa begged me to hand the keys off to her so she could go party with her recently broken up girlfriend in Scottsdale, and I conceded.
1am comes. Bars close. I’m still working. Stone cold sober. No Lisa.
2am. No Lisa. I try calling for the first time. But no answer.
2:30am, as I’m wrapping up, I hear a knock on the door.
It’s the Gilbert Police.
AS they told me Lisa had died instantly in a car crash, she was drunk and had hit the divider of a highway at about 80 miles per hour after losing control of the car at high speeds on the way home, I lost it.
My legs went out.
And mentally. I collapsed.
About two years ago, I met a homeless man named Ethan.
Ethan would bring in a trophy here in to Starbuck’s, and would set a highly used card from his wife that said “I love you forever, Ethan” very clearly with well written hand writing in front of the statue.
He’d talk to the statue. Carry on long conversations with it.
And for the most part, Ethan wasn’t coherent.
But on one coherent day, when he’d not been talking to his statue, he told me his story.
His wife died. tragically, in a car accident.
He loved her. Beyond words can explain. He’d lost it. Mentally broke. Within 6 months of her death, he became homeless, and now, 20 years later, he’s a fragment of his former self.
I learned that Ethan was me.
A life I’d left behind a very long time ago, as I’d chosen not to be that man.
Somewhere in there, I learned to erase my own memories. To implant new ones.
I’d chosen to erase the story of Lisa’s death, until a time came I could understand what happened, and be disassociated enough from it to learn about it through Ethan.
I’d chosen to move forward with an imaginary relationship with an imagined version of Lisa.
I’d chosen to fully repair the car.
I’d chosen to pretend it never happened.
I’d chosen to ignore anyone who provided information to the contrary or refuted my convicted belief that Lisa was anything but real.
I’d chosen to mentally edit those conversations that contained information I needed to hear, and chosen to rearrange and mentally manufacture the imagery living life in partial delusion, but still choosing to be productive in society.
My hallucinatory state.
My fabricated reality.
All tucked and hidden away.
As people tried desperately hard to tell me their truth – a truth I wasn’t interested in hearing.
Culminating in a desire to move towards an open relationship and a story of us that ultimately led to a parting of our ways and our subsequent divorce.
Depression. Internal pain. All emanating from my utter refusal to be told and live by other’s truths anymore.
In 2012, I saw a world that looked like it was straight out of a Terminator movie.
In the movie “It’s A Beautiful Life” – a man who refuses to accept a holocaust is going on around him, instead choosing to perceive a reality he imagined.
When I saw what I saw in 2012.
I realized that reality is anything I imagine and want it to be.
I realized the story of my life has undergone not just one edit and/or pass in a similar fashion as a movie might. But numerous. It’s ongoing. Continuous. And life itself is the story I choose to write.
Lisa, is still alive. I met up with her in 2012 before leaving the country and shortly before becoming homeless.
But is that the Lisa I married?
Of course not. That woman has long been gone.
A part of growing up and growing older means coming to terms with the myriad of influences and truths that create the linear story of our own lives.
No one story being more accurate than the other.
To me. Lisa and I divorced and had a happy marriage until it turned south in a dramatic and fiery fashion.
With Ethan’s help. I learned a little more about the nonlinear nature of time, and about why I was so insistent from the start that no one drive that car.
It had all happened before.
And at a subconscious level I just had to make sure it didn’t happen again.
I have lived many lives, often in parallel, and have learned how to understand them and in the process better understand myself at the same time diminishing the pain and enhancing the pleasure I feel while living life.
And for the last five years, I’ve absolutely accepted that fantasy and reality are one and the same thing to me. I don’t know what’s fact or fiction anymore from other’s perspective. I only know it from mine and that which I choose to see and believe.
For the last several years, I have been studying homelessness in the Los Angeles area, and its impact on the communities and businesses as well as the patrons to these businesses in the Studio City and North Hollywood area.
First, before I get to that – I’d like to introduce myself.
I have spent 30 years working in Information Technology at all levels, and with 400 credit hours of education and a bachelor’s degree in Marketing and a Master’s in International Business Administration, not only do I have experience of business operations from all perspectives – but I’ve done it globally – and have worked in 40 countries around the world.
But that’s not what makes me more qualified than most to speak about this issue.
I’m homeless myself.
My situation is relatively simple: After working 100 hours a week for several years, I’d acquired an addiction to cocaine to unwind with the hours I had been working, but ultimately the burning the candle at both ends caught up with me and I had a mental breakdown which led to an attempt at suicide.
I quit my job, went through rehab, and afterwards had a series of financial difficulties which left me broke, and with debtor calls escalating to 8 times per day and no income to pay my $200,000 USD in debt while I was living with my parents, I escaped the stress and left the country to travel Central America for a year.
From there, I hitchhiked from Tijuana, Mexico, to Panama and back, without money for a year, where I came to understand homelessness and abject poverty while there, where shelters and food are readily available for everyone, where people readily open up their doors to strangers on the street and feed them.
So when I came to the United States.
Having lost all my friends, and not wanting to be a burden on my parents who are living on a fixed income, I found myself here in Studio City, where I relax by day at a Starbuck’s and play games, watch television, participate in online communities and learn how to be a better writer, and at night, I set up my tent at South Weddington Park in North Hollywood, where there’s a few other campsites.
So. What makes me homeless is multi-faceted:
With a former career I’d burned out on so harshly that it wound up with several attempted suicides, that’s just not a viable option for me, rationally, to pursue any longer. You may call me obstinate, I’m fine with that, I know me better than you do and know I suffered and dealt with depression and considerations of suicide for over 10 years before actually trying it, and the stress of a career I wasn’t enjoying any longer – and the marks on my wrist are my reminder not to pursue that avenue again.
With $200,000 USD in debt, some of which is owed to the IRS and some is federally guaranteed student loan debt, the moment I open up a bank account, it’s seized and so are any assets I place in the account. I know. I’ve tried. So ANY job or income producing source I take on HAS to be at least what I was making before JUST to have money left over to pay for rent, let alone incidentals.
These roles – in leadership oriented positions – just simply aren’t available. At least, I haven’t found any with sending out nearly 3000 resumes over the last 5 years with 60 different permutations of that resume.
Sure. I get job offers for coding positions here and there. But one look at the scars on my wrist has me saying no.
I’m not interested in flirting with returning to doing the same thing that had me depressed for years, led to a drug addiction and then led me to the suicide attempts. That’s… Insanity.
Now what does any of this have to do with the title?
Dealing with Homelessness As a Business
I’ll get there.
But first. I’d like you to understand what I deal with:
You understand who I am, a man in transition. Yes, I do know what I want for work, which is a position commiserate with my level of education and experience and an income reflecting that.
But as a homeless man, the #1 thing I hear – in a literal sense – every day – is what I’m doing wrong.
For instance, I used to hang out at Starbuck’s off of Magnolia and Lankershim in North Hollywood, where I could access wifi and have a cup of coffee. That is until Kurt, the manager at the time, imposed an artificial 3 hour on my stay there. I was no longer welcome for the longer periods of time I stayed.
To Kurt’s defense. The space was small. And with my suitcase and backpack, which didn’t fully tuck under a table, even though I bathed daily and wore clean clothes that had been freshly laundered, none of it mattered.
Now mind you, I come from the corporate world where I used to work 10, 12 hour days and sit in a cubicle all day long. For me, it’s NICE to have a place I can call home, I like and mostly enjoy my predictable world.
So from there. I went to the public library. Where I became unwelcome there by a librarian who asked me to leave because of the luggage I had. A larger suitcase, and a mid sized hiker’s backpack, something you’d see on any airline.
Eventually I found a Starbuck’s that accepts me, I hate thievery, so I make it a fact to stop other homeless types and other questionable types from stealing from the store, so I had to create a win/win which works for both of us to deal with this issue.
This brings me to problem #1 with Los Angeles and homelessness
#1 Telling a homeless person what NOT to do provides diminishing results.
Most homeless people aren’t like me, and aren’t willing to try different things until they get the results they want. And even with me, being told no only goes so far.
So as a business owner, community leader, or someone involved with homeless people in general, when you spot repeated behavior that you can’t resolve, it’s falls on you – NOT them to fix the problem.
Now the knee jerk reaction seems to be to make the rules more stringent and to hire security, thus increasing your policing of operations which creates problems for your customers and quite literally decreases your profitability.
That’s no fun for anyone involved in the day to day operation of your business. You. Your customers.
And the result. Honduras: the most dangerous nation in the world – has armed security for every place of business. Quite literally, there’s a man with a shotgun standing in front of every business. Violent crime and thievery remains the highest in the world there, and while the security businesses with men carrying shotguns is booming there, everyone else is absolutely afraid of walking the street.
Is that the city or country you want?
Not I, for sure.
So what’s the solution to this? Provide me AND US options on what we can do to replace the activity we were doing when it’s occuring on such a frequent basis it becomes uncontrollable.
Options, that’s all I’m asking for.
For instance. If you don’t like my suitcase cluttering up your business space.
Guess what? Neither do I!
But if you took the time to understand life from my perspective – My suitcase poses a problem for me and for businesses – especially getting into government service facilities. But my suitcase contains my life. In it is my passport. My hair clippers which I use once a month to shave my head. My sleeping bag is in there, and so are my change of underwear, socks, shorts, and pants that keep me looking and feeling clean. For ME it’s not an option to leave this behind, it will get stolen. I dont have a place I can lock it up, which would be preferred, I DONT like appearing homeless any more than you dont like homeless people being around you.
Free oversized lockers in easy to access locations. There’s a metro right down the street from where I sleep. lockers there are $50. Why not make them free? That’s an option.
Here’s all I am saying.
Have in mind an alternative for the homeless person to do what you don’t want them to do.
“JUST NOT THAT” Isn’t an option, particularly when you’re seeing patterns of activity occuring on a regular basis. Securing and isolating your business more is just bad for business. So be creative. Most homeless people – myself included – feel defeated by society and lack options which is where you come in.
If you’re interested in curing the problem. Be that cure. Not the one pointing out the problems.
Which brings me directly to the next point.
#2 AS a business owner or community leader, know AND PARTICIPATE in your community options for the poor.
There’s nothing more frustrating than a population of people AND a police force who repeatedly point to the same non existent options as an option.
To Explain: I don’t like being homeless. At all. And to revisit #1, there’s very little more frustrating than police officers who tell me “You can’t camp here” in a public park and then giving me a card for a public shelter. I contact the shelter, and find out they’re full, there’s a 6 month waiting list, and they charge $5 a month.
The police aren’t aware the shelters are full because of the high cost of living in the area, where many people living at poverty levels are using shelters which should be going for homeless people as inexpensive housing options, thus making it impossible for a homeless person to get in.
Incidentally, I politely tell the police officers that the law says no longer than 72 hours for camping in public parks, which usually makes them go away. I also help them understand my situation and let them know I don’t want to be here anymore than they don’t want me here – but I lack – you guessed it – options.
Accordingly, Community leaders or those involved in the community don’t seem to be aware of it either.
Now did you know that state subsidized housing for the homeless are also double dipping and making money by charging rent? Betcha didnt know that, did you?
For the first time in the three years I’ve been homeless I found solace with a Veteran Affair’s program that offered transitional housing at Los Angeles Family Housing.
The facilities were nice. But the rooms. I’d been shown two rooms to choose from – each unventilated with four men per 12′ by 15′ room, all who didn’t know how to bathe, all who were laying around doing nothing in the middle of the day. And let me say this indelicately – it fucking stunk. Like a stinky jail cell.
You. Don’t treat your animals this poorly. And the options you’re pointing homeless people to – particularly someone like me who believed in the education system, worked hard and paid millions in taxes over his life, and served his country for eight years – is this?
This is your community’s idea of support?
When I saw that. I knew. There’s nothing wrong with me as an individual. It’s you as a society.
And as a final aside. If you build a shelter. Ask yourself – would I want to stay here?
#3 Not everyone wants to work
One MAJOR problem I encounter regularly is this expectation that I – and you – are slaves to a system and we HAVE to work to live. You don’t. We don’t.
And MANY of us homeless types are not interested in being like you and working to live.
But keep that concept in mind. I am NOT like you. And I do NOT want to be like you.
No offense intended.
And in no way is this intended to suggest there’s a problem with you anymore than there’s a problem with me.
Now to be clear – I don’t mind this thing called work.
And many homeless I know feel the same way.
But work – HAS to mean something to me more than just the dollar I get. Sure, that matters – somewhat – but with my new career direction and my degrees, I’m interested in high paying positions as a leader for companies I can relate to. Whether you want me to lead the NSA (God knows the militarized leadership sucks monkey balls for our country there), or a private company doing cutting edge research with 3d Virtual Reality Star Trek type holodecks, or it’s working for a tech or scientific company researching mind control or alternate realities. I’m there. So there.
Instead. I get shit like this:
I am presently working with a client that is offering an exciting job opportunity for the right candidate. I thought I would send you over a summary of this opportunity to see not only if you might be interested in the opportunity, but also if you may know of someone that may be interested in pursuing this opportunity as well. If you or someone else feels that you may be a fit for this posting, please feel free to forward along an updated resume with an expression of interest. I will review the resume with the client I am representing to determine fit, and I will contact you if an interest is present.
National Healthcare Company is looking for:
POSITION: Revenue Integrity Manager
LOCATION: Pasadena, Ca
Let’s be honest with eachother. Does Revenue Integrity Manager as a a job title sound remotely exciting? The vast majority of jobs I’m offered use language like this for roles that don’t offer me anything I am interested in to advance my life and my career. They’re deceptively positioned, using language that’s laughable, when let’s face it. Watching paint dry would be more entertaining.
Just so I can put this into perspective for you. Homeless people in general – yes – absolutely do think differently.
You’ve seen how successful your overarching labels are serving you by referring to us as a population as having ‘mental disorders’. I’ve met people who can talk to trees. I myself have seen alternate realities. And one guy I know talks to his dead wife. Regularly.
No. We don’t fit in to your standard models of rational thinking. But to tell us to seek help for a way of thinking that you’ve identified as problematic – flat out isn’t working.
Sure. There’s some SEVERE psychological issues I’ve seen while on the streets. A woman who regularly assaults others. Another man who can’t seem to keep his pants up. Another man who would sit in front of Starbuck’s and would pick fights with everyone who walked through the door. THESE kind of people DO need assistance.
But they guy who can see another world, and another who can talk to ghosts..
Is it possible these people are introducing new potential industries to a capitalistic society that’s stagnating?
Is it science and technology firms have something they could potentially market and sell if they understood what these people were seeing, and they could become subject matter experts and potential explorers for new territory that haven’t been capitalized on yet?
My point to #3 is this: In a traditional sense, I don’t want to work to make money just to live. I want work to be meaningful, enjoyable, and engaging, and I want to feel like I’m the right person for the job and may be the only person for the job. I want to feel special, yeah, you heard me, not like I’m a number, but like I was meant for what I am doing and it was made for me.
So my advice to community leaders and business owners: While job offers are appreciated, a lot of homeless, myself included, don’t want your normal average every day job and are not interested in just barely getting by.
We already do that.
We’re the ultimate survivors, ejected from a system that can be vicious at times, and treated like vermin.
So why would I want to be like you, and participate in a system like this any more than I have to?
Either the system fundamentally changes.
Or you provide work options more in line with our gifts, skills, and experience..
You’re going to continue to see a rise in the homeless population as a rebellion mounts from people like me who just won’t put up with it anymore.
So when I say not everyone wants to work.
What I mean by this is: Work by and large is identified with exhaustive effort that takes a toll on psychologically and physically. I don’t like this definition.
I prefer thinking about work as something I do on a predictable basis that has some levels of responsibility that comes with it, meaning I can’t just leave at a moment’s notice and I’m required to participate with people I may not normally participate with in order to achieve the results desired for the organization.
I shouldn’t hate it all the time. I shouldn’t loathe the people I work for. And if this animosity lasts for too long, I should always have the option to move on to another company if it gets too much for me.
So when I say not everyone wants to work.
What I mean is not everyone wants to feel like slave labor.
There was a time I was fine with that. Not anymore.
What’s the moral to this bullet point?
As a homeless person, you’re going to have to treat me and other homeless people as individuals IF you’re interested in helping find my direction with me. You’re going to have to understand that I’m not interested in your training fairs, your nifty web sites, and your finger pointing the direction to anyone but you. I’m interested in going somewhere with personal meaning that says “Welcome home” knowing that path has already been paved for me.
Oh I know, there’s so many of us, where do you start?
This is an issue you – as a society created. It’s YOUR mess to fix. One at a time. That’s where you start.
In any case, with some homeless people, you’re going to have to get creative with if you want to employ them. Discovering and/or creating new opportunities which fit them specifically and potentially no one else.
This brings me to my last point
#4 Hold yourself personally accountable for understanding the supply chain of the charities you interact with.
I donated for years to various organizations around the world, before finally discovering Goodwill’s practicality as a charity – a place where I now buy my clothes from.
I know Goodwill’s supply chain. People like me. I myself could walk into the store. Could see what was offered before. And while I RARELY bought from there myself, I liked how I felt and how I could give others who couldn’t afford the things I could at the time the things I could when I’d grown tired of it.
Back when I was employed. I’d pick up homeless people off the street and take them out for dinner. I didn’t just buy them a dinner. I sat down with them on more than one occasion, and chatted with them.
For those wanting to work – especially illegals who didn’t mind lower paying jobs – I would go pick them up and help a friend move his warehouse one time, or another time help me with my house.
I’m not saying be like me.
But what I am saying is – Whether you’re an administrator working for the government, you’re a police officer, or you’re a just a regular joe smoe with a job and all the regular bills – you’re going to interact with charities – and being told a story about where the money goes just isn’t good enough.
Take the homeless situation as a prime example.
The federal and state government has allotted a great deal of money to shelters and homeless assistance. Most people believe it’s going to the right places. But I can assure you, personally, it is not.
So where is it going?
Who the fuck knows, right?
So if you’re in a government agency overseeing the distribution of this, you have a budget with expenditures on it. Verify what’s reported to you. Here’s a quick list of ideas how:
- Walk around. Literally. See for yourself that what’s being spent where it’s being reported to be spent is actually being spent there. Don’t just keep your nose in a spreadsheet. Physically walk around and LOOK at what’s being spent and where. Give your eyes and mind the evidence it needs to know those expenditures are going where they’re supposed to be going.
- Verify fair market value reporting. If you’re being charged for rent on a per person basis, is it at fair market value? You can verify this by checking other resources – Craigslist, forrent.com, and also beating the streets and approaching places for rent what they’re charging. Never trust one resource (ie: internet) for your pricing. Always cross reference to physical statistics.
- Personalize your help. Verify and get to know the names of those you’re helping.
A little story – years ago while I was working for Prudential, while auditing the Hong Kong office I learned they were being billed for 180 pieces of equipment for monthly charges by corporate when they only had 120 on site. They hadn’t reported it because these 60 pieces of equipment literally disappeared due to theft.
Third party or connected party audits – even for homelessness – allows you – as an administrator – to become aware of the names and people you’re helping, and also makes it tougher for a shelter to ‘double dip’ – and not help homeless instead charge rent for inexpensive housing to poverty stricken people who might have more options than the homeless. An audit – especially for transitional housing – would help uncover this.
Whether it’s verifying the distribution of food, shelter, or just being aware of the money coming in and the distribution points, it behooves you as an administrator – IF you want to be effective with your job – to know where it’s all going and WHY.
Same thing holds true for police officers and those of you giving to charity.
You may hear a wonderful feel good story from someone talking about their charity or the help they provide for the homeless. And once you start giving you never see or hear from them again. You as an officer may direct people there, not knowing they never provided assistance, and you as a donator may donate one or many times, not having any clue that 99% of the financial donations goes to ‘administrator fees’ which is making someone preying on your charity very wealthy.
There’s something called accountability. Whether you’re an officer of the law or a charitable citizen. Drive down to the places you’re referring people to and donating to. See for yourself how these places are working and what they do. THEN when you’re confident the money’s being spent as it’s supposed to. Check in every once in a while.
Just to say hi.
And keep in mind that just because you saw how it once worked does not make it always so….
This blog entry is long winded and I wander a lot, I apologize for that, but I hope you get my point.
I don’t like setting up my tent every day. I don’t like dealing with meth’ed up neighbors screaming at the top of their lungs, or waking up to someone unzipping my tent trying to steal something.
When it rains, I’m hating life, and trying my damndest to stay dry.
And with $20 on me. I have enough money that people have donated to me to do one trip to the laundromat, to buy some detergent, another thing of shavers and soap. and that’s it.
I do NOT like living like this.
And which as much as I’ve given to this society and world in terms of time, effort, and money.
I deserve more. I deserve better.
But not just me.
Many others like me do as well.
YOU as a working stiff, as a politician, as a leader, as a police officer, as the President of your company, as an IT worker, have the unique ability to influence something I cannot because your voice as a contributing member of this society is heard where mine is squelched.
Don’t like homeless people in your neighborhood?
Then be a part of the one providing real solutions. Not just one pointing out the problem.
AS a final note: This article, while lengthy, has only presented a fraction of what I’ve been through and tried to alter my situation. You might be inclined to believe I haven’t tried everything because I didn’t mention it here. I’m a smart, well educated man, and have tried everything which is why I believe – and have a great deal of evidence int he form of personal experience that this is society’s problem, not mine to resolve.
Take a look at the streets. How many homeless do you see? I see quite a few.
So please, avoid the knee jerk reaction you might have to undermine my position as an individual and my assertions this is a societal issue to resolve. And consider that you – as a member of this society might have a moral obligation to participate in ways I’ve outlined unless you’re interested in joining me on the street.
The choice is yours.
“An Opening of a Marriage”
A SHORT STORY
BRIAN SCOTT GREGORY / “Q”
STUDIO CITY, CALIFORNIA 91604
(818) 643 1562
Brian And Lise Gregory’s home, 588 W GARY COURT, GILBERT, ARIZONA 85234. September 23rd, 1998. 10:00pm.
It’s night, as Brian and Lisa are seated next to a patio table under the patio of the backyard, overlooking a crystal clear pool, with a bottle of Merlot on the patio table next to three candles.
They’re both relaxed, talking calmly looking at a full moon reflected on the water of the pool, as Lisa takes a sip of her wine and looks at Brian.
I still can’t believe it either. She was so young, how long has it been now?
Two years now. To this day.
Are you glad he moved to Phoenix?
Of course I am. I mean, it’s been nice being able to get him back into the groove of work and all and having him here as a friend. He hated living in Reno, I’m still trying to figure that one out.
But he won’t date?
We had lunch today at Wang’s Chinese. I am probably not supposed to tell you this, but he shit himself today.
Lisa turns to Brian with an incredulous face.
Brian looks at her with an ‘oh man that sucks and was painful to be there with him’ grin.
Yeah, shit himself.
You’re kidding, right?
Nope. Ran to the restroom, then called me from it, asked me to get the order to go as he ran out the door of the restaurant afterwards.
Lisa looks at Brian with her mouth open in astonishment.
Oh my god! What happened.
I don’t know. We were at Wang’s having a normal conversation about work, then he began discussing the anniversary of Donna’s suicide, when he just quit talking and started staring blankly into space. He didn’t say anything to me at first, which was weird, then I saw a tear streak down his face, when he ran to the restroom holding his ass.
Lisa half laughed as she put her hand over her face.
Oh my god. That’s horrible!
Yeah, I know. We drove by his house afterwards, when he changed his pants.
And.. He didn’t want to talk about it afterwards. At all.
Melissa wants to go out with him. Did you ask if he would be interested?
I did. Right before he shat himself.
And I quote “I’m done with women”.
(jokingly) I’ve always thought he was gay and had a thing for you.
Now that’s not funny.
I’m just joking.
I know. But it’s still not funny. I’m worried about my friend.
Brian finished his glass of wine, which he’d been sipping the entire time, as he leaned over and grabbed the bottle. Lisa’s glass was almost empty as well.
Shall I top you off?
Lisa puts the glass under the bottle as Brian pours.
So what can we do?
Brian pours himself a fresh glass of wine as he sets the bottle down. The clear night has gotten clouds as a few sprinkles start coming down in the previously still pool.
Supposed to rain tonight. (pauses). So. What can we do?
Brian tips his glass towards Lisa.
Lisa tinks her glass against Brian’s.
Why thank you!
She leans forward and kisses him.
I was thinking. Do you remember what we talked about a few months ago about the open relationship?
Lisa leaned back, and smiled, mischievously. An odd “I love it when a plan comes together” type of smile.
Well. I was thinking. I know Bill likes you – as a female… not just as his friend’s wife.
I hated the idea of you sleeping with someone I didn’t know. So how would you feel about going over to his place and seducing him?
Lisa smiles, broadly.
Lisa took a nervous sip from her wine.
How do you feel about it?
Indifferent I guess. He’s my best friend, and I don’t like seeing him down and worse – not wanting to spend any time with any woman. I think you could change that.
And you’re ok with me having sex with your best friend?
The idea of it excites me a little.
Lisa was starting to become giddy.
SO what is the plan?
The rain started to fall as a gust of wind nearly blew one of the candles out.
Getting windy out there.
Lisa’s not liking the delay, she’s clearly antsy.
SO… Bill. Are you sure about this?
Quit asking if I am sure. Of course I am. As for Bill, I was thinking you could put on a great act for him, pretend like you and I just got into a huge fight and tell him you left and said you were going to go to a friend’s house.
That’s not going to work. We never fight. Bill knows that. He’s even said as much.
I guess you’re right. He does idealize our relationship, doesn’t he?
Lisa sips her wine, the wind in her sails appears to be getting deflated.
Do you have any ideas?
Lisa looks at the rain falling on the pool for inspiration, then it hits her…
I have an idea.
An evil mischievous grin crosses her face.
It’s convoluted. But he won’t question it.
Quit prepping me. What is it?
Ok. He knows it’s my birthday, right?
He does, I told him I had made reservations for us at Ruth’s Chris.
So I’ll tell him I got stuck working late, and couldn’t do anything about it, and didn’t expect to be home until 10. I got home earlier, and walked in on you having sex with Elea.
I don’t know if I like that idea…
You’d rather make me look bad person and I am having the affair on you?
Brian thought about it for a moment, and sipped his wine, and scratched his chin.
I don’t know if he’ll even remain my friend afterwards.
Oh come on now. You two are like two peas in a pod. He’s your friend.
I don’t know.
How often is Elea walking around naked through the house or has Elea caught you?
Elea’s a stripper, she’s perfectly comfortable being naked.
And you’re not. I know that.
Brian smirked. She was right.
And I KNOW you’ve told Bill about her and Melissa’s preference of walking around the house naked.
I’m not trying to make him jealous.
Have you told him about our discussions of an open marriage?
So with everything, it more plausible you couldn’t resist, especially with the big plans to take me out to dinner that I blew.
Fine. What’s the plan?
I drive over to Bill’s place, crying, tell him I snuck in on you and Elea having sex on the pool table while Melissa watched you two, and I ran out the door.
So why so late?
It was a practical joke I was playing on you, I knew you had plans, you’ve practical joked me enough, so I played one on you, fully expecting to be back in time for the dinner reservations you’d made.
It’s gotta be after 10 now. Where have you been for the last two hours?
Driving around. You know how emotional us women can be. Bill knows he’ll be a retaliation response.
I think he’ll be fine with that
Lisa held up her glass proposing a toast, as Brian tinked it.
She then became sad, and began to cry, as mascara dripped down her face.
Oh my god, why are you crying?
Brian And Lise Gregory’s home, 588 W GARY COURT, GILBERT, ARIZONA 85234. September 24th, 1998. 11:30am.
Brian’s sitting on the patio, looking at the water, all the windows of the house are open.
The front door, visible from his position on the patio, opens.
Honey I’m home!
Brian wipes a tear from his eye.
I’m back here.
She walks to the back of the house, as he sees the door opens to the patio. She’s standing there, butt naked.
Where are your clothes?
Lisa smiled and laughed.
He dared me to leave them at his house and drive back here without them.
That’s 15 miles through city traffic! You’re lucky no one saw you!
Lisa closes the door, and walks to the pool. Dipping her toes in the water.
Brr. It’s cold. And who says no one saw me?
Someone saw you?
At least half a dozen. One trucker, at a stop light, rolled his window down and told me I made his day!
(Laughs, unsure) Made his day, eh?
Lisa looks back at Brian as she steps away from the pool, and then walks toward him. She sees hints he’s been crying.
You’re not ok with this, are you?
Tears roll down his face.
I am, I am. I’m just mentally.. coping with things… poorly.
She puts her hand on his face and wipes away the tears.
How was he?
She looks at him almost like a mother looks at a child.
Are you sure you want to know?
Not really. But I need to know.
Well. You’re a better lover, if you’re concerned about that at all.
Brian wiped away a fresh tear.
(feigned relief) I appreciate it, and I know you could just be saying that, but the details… please.
Lisa’s nipples had gotten hard in the brisk air, as she looked down at them
It’s a bit nipply out here.
Brian’s face shot a look of frustrated anger that Lisa saw. She sat down on the chair next to him.
Ok. He bought the story, hook line and sinker, and invited me in. I went in, and he poured me another glass of wine, I drank about half of it and leaned over and kissed him.
Lisa shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Are Elea or Melissa home?
Elea’s home. She’s in her room.
She work today?
Night. She’s not coming back here if that’s what you’re worried about. Go on.
I just don’t want her listening in.
Brian got agitated.
I know. Her radio’s on, we’ll hear her if she opens her door.
Lisa settled back down a bit.
Well. After about half the glass of wine was done with, Bill invited me up to his room. We had sex, he came inside me, three times over the course of the evening, is that what you want to hear?
Brian looked straight forward blankly.
Well? Are we ok with things?
The blank stare persisted.
Well clearly this changes everything.
Lisa got worried. Elea’s door could be heard opening as a Depeche Mode song blared through the house.
Brian could see Lisa was worried.
Brian stood up, and walked over to Lisa, and reached over and kissed her on the lips, as he reached around and grabbed her bare ass.
Not in a bad way, sweetheart. In a good way. Thank you for being there for my friend, that means a lot to me.
Lisa looked confused.
No problem.. I guess.
Elea could be heard inside the house.
(yells) HELLO, IS ANYONE HOME?
(yells in response back) WE’RE BACK HERE!
Lisa looks at Brian, as he puts a finger to his lips indicating to her to be quiet about the events of last night. She gets the nonverbal message as clear as day.
The door swings open as Elea appears in the doorway, she’s fully nude herself.
Good morning you two! Lisa, you goin for a swim with me?
I smiled at Lisa as Elea walked out to the patio and toward the pool as she turned around to look at us.
Elea is absolutely gorgeous, with her size d natural boobs and perfectly groomed landing strip making her brown hair radiate in the daylight.
I’m not, but Lisa could use a shower!
(pleading) Come in with me LEES
As she turns around and starts walking into the beach front entry way of the pebble Tec pool.
Lisa, who’s a very attractive natural blonde, is well groomed as well with her size c breasts and manicured blonde landing strip, turns to look at Brian, kisses him on the cheek, and then says.
Are we ok?
Brian conjures up a weak smile.
We’re ok, Lees. I’ll be inside if you two need me.
And with that, as Elea Brewer and Lisa Gregory walk naked into the pool, Brian turns around right before he enters the house, and sees the bare ass of the two women walking into the pool as he walks inside the house.
In 2008, shortly after visiting Geneva, my mind began shifting – where I physically began seeing things I couldn’t explain.
People were acting different. At work, my bosses were all dismissed leaving me with one manager, and when taking trips to Las Vegas and Los Angeles that year, changes were made to the configuration of these cities that defied all traditional excuses such as construction and problems directed at my memory.
Then – one night this gorgeous young woman decided to entertain me one evening with a dance that changed my life. “They tried to make me go to rehab and I said, no, no, no?”
Now that night is changing. When you told me to take off my pants. I do. You make love to me, I ejaculate inside you, and not long after that, I pick you up, carry you to the bedroom, and say.
“Jackie, I’m not the man you think I am”
It’s then that you notice. Any indications I’m high are completely gone. In fact, I’m stone cold sober. It doesn’t make sense at first, and before you can say anything to me, I put my finger to your lips. No, not your pussy lips, your lips on your face, and I whisper into your ear “are you ready?”.
You look at up at me, and unsure what I’m talking about – you say “For?”
About then, I wave my hand, and the bed we’re on is suddenly on a remote beach in Hawaii. You recognize it, as you’d been here before, but unlike before, you notice there’s no buildings, no people, and it’s in the middle of the day.
You push me aside. I’m hard again, and I penetrate you again, as you struggle to sit up, to push me off, but I refuse.
“Enjoy the moment, Jackie, just watch…”
I smile and about the time I smile, the world changes around us again, it dissolves, and this time you’re seeing the Pyramids of Egypt off in the distance, lit up by lights as it’s now night – where mere moments before it was daytime.
“What the fuck are you doing?,” You say, frantically.
I kiss you. And smile. And push your legs back, penetrating you as deep as I can, slowly, thrusting my cock slowly in, then out, then in, then out. You’ve never really experienced pleasure before, but for some reason, there’s something going on with you and with the world around you and me that’s making you feel… alive.
And it scares you. In ways that make you want to run. But then, as you look up at me, pushing in, pushing out, you know, instinctually, that I’m someone you can trust in ways you’ve never been able to understand, so you go with it – as I lean down again and whisper in your ear “Hold your breath for a moment”.
You close your eyes, and hold your breath as I thrust inside you again. You feel utterly fantastic. You are almost orgasmic and it’s everything you can do to not breathe in, but as you open your eyes, you look to the side and cannot believe what you’re seeing.
The Earth, from the moon, You, me and the are now suddenly on the surface of the moon itself.
You gasp in amazement, and before you have the time to realize you can’t breathe and it’s not cold either, despite the fact that we’re on top of the covers having sex, I wave my hand again and we’re suddenly on top of a mountain overlooking the Swiss Alps.
It’s a little chillier here, you feel it almost immediately, and as you catch your breath, I push in…
You pull me close to you, in part to warm you up, in part because you are nervous and never – in a million years expected any of this – particularly with someone like me….
As you pull me closer, the sex feels exquisite as you lightly moan the words in my ear “Who.. What are you?”
I smile, and don’t say a word – and as I reach down, I roll back and now have you sitting on top of me, I grab your ass as you begin grinding against me.
You’re about to have an orgasm. You’ve never experienced this before.
You arch your back, and grind me into you as far as you can go. The feeling is amazing.
I say “Are you ready to have a little fun with this?”
You look at me in ecstasy, breathing hard, moaning quietly as you push up and down off me, and then grab my hands, place them on your tits, and say “You can drive me wherever and whenever you want”.
You look down long enough to see me smiling, mischievously, as you look over and see the scenery change to…
Kids all around… Families passing by, people pointing, some angry, some laughing, hundreds of them as you arch your back again, fully naked in front of everyone right here in Disneyland, on main street, right in front of the castle. You look around, wanting to cover yourself, and about then I push up, pushing my rock hard cock deep inside you making sure everyone sees your naked body as you arch your back, your tits and pussy clearly visible to everyone – as I ejaculate inside you, hard and you squeal in delight…. As you experience your first orgasm, ever, in front of 500 people at Disneyland.
Hundreds have their cell phones up, taking pictures and videos of us having uncensored sex right there in front of everyone on top of a bed that mysteriously appeared there.
Security starts to run up when I wave my hand, again, and suddenly…
We’re back in Scottsdale…
In my apartment.
You roll over, off me, exhausted.
As you lean over, and take your hand, and stroke my body from my softening cock to my chest, and look at me.
With love in your eyes.
And say to me… “Who and what are you?”
I say to you “My real name is Q, you can watch the tv show Star Trek to get an idea of who and what I am. Now I’m going to forget all of this when I wake up, but I will have wonderful memories of waking up looking at you looking at you looking at me lovingly. Now if you want more of what you I just presented to you, hurry up and throw your underwear on, and don’t say a word about any of this until the time’s right.”
I started to close my eyes.
“Wait. What? When the time is right? How will I know?”
I smiled, and closed my eyes, and began to snore. You tried shaking me, and I didn’t wake up.
I was still naked. You covered me up, and then did as I asked you to and threw on some clothes, as you laid on the bed staring at me.
AS you stared at me, you began wondering who in the hell I was. I wasn’t anything you’d ever imagined even possible in any being before. And fortunately, for both of us, you never said a word about what happened.
I started to wake up – and saw you looking at me – staring…. I could feel the love there, and didn’t understand at the time why it was there. Until now. The story I tell unveiled your reality.
Excited that you were there looking at me like this – I was….
Now Jackie. Just so you understand the funky way time and relativity of time works.
These events haven’t yet happened for me yet. But I know they have for you.
And why you?
You. My magnificent, amazing woman. Are worth stopping time for. Our future hasn’t even began to unfold together yet.
– Q aka Brian Scott Gregory
I’ve given a lot of thought about time travel, and what I want to do with it.
So among the first things I’d do with it, this tops the list:
I want to go back in time to a night where Jackie danced nude for me all night, and another afternoon where Rachel came over to my house and surprised me by shedding her clothes for no apparent reason.
Now I’ve thought long and hard about these moments. And while my first instinct with a time machine is to go back and re-experience these moments – over and over again – there’s a problem I introduce by doing this.
What happens to the previous version of me?
The first inclination I have is to say fuck it all – and just go back and take my place. Just… sit in – place the younger version of me into a simulator or give myself a sedative, and then while that younger version of me is sleeping away, the older version of me is experiencing those events anytime I want to.
But I introduce a problem with this.
My memory of the event was – I wasn’t sleeping. And while sure, these ‘memories’ of events I have about those past events can be re-considered to be vivid dreams, thus maintaining the timeline, and I can even place that younger version of me in a place that made those vivid dreams congruent, I don’t have any guarantee of that younger version of me having anything but a serious wondering what happened while I was asleep…
Oddly enough, I had EXACTLY this happen while I was in Las Vegas one time, where I fell asleep for 12 hours and cannot for the life of me remember what happened and why.
So let’s say I go back in time after discovering technology in the future that can alter and insert and reprogram memories my younger version’s mind and memories. This introduces yet another problem should I use it.
I’ve just drawn an analogy for other unseen entities that my mind is malleable and my memories are much like that which you might find in a computer that I myself program.
Which opens up a whole new can of worms.
Dopplegangers. Alternate reality versions of myself. There’s too many complications and butterfly ripple effects that I can introduce as a direct result of the use of all this, which not fully understanding or having control of the interconnected nature of things, it’s just not in my best interest – yet – to make alterations to my past that I – a little older but not necessarily wiser – do not remember.
Now visiting the past doesn’t have to be complicated. Like programming a computer, I know that as I get the hang of things I’ll try more, do more, and push the boundaries a little more.
But for now…
Time traveling to these times, what is congruent with my timeline is – it was about these times for BOTH these women that they began to pull away from me, and I didn’t know why.
Since then I have realized that time branches all the time, and there are multiple versions of my friends and family spread across alternate realities, like there are alternate versions of myself, where in some worlds Jackie’s married to me and I never met Rachel, and in other worlds we never met, and in yet other worlds were bigamy’s practiced I’m married to both of them.
So at this point for both these women. Once the night or event ended and they leave my place, I can be standing outside by their car. I don’t remember having watched them leave and walk to their cars these days. So if I as an older version of myself were to be standing outside by their car, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.
And from there, I can say to Rachel “Rachel, I would literally stop time to have more time with you, and,w ell, I did, and I’d like to show you something I have no doubt you will enjoy.”
And then offer my hand to her. By then, I’d know how to traverse time and space with her, so first, I’d take Rachel to Mexico and the white sands of Cancun. and then I’d say to her “You at one point in our future will say to me ‘lets escape to Mexico, so here we are in Cancun”
And then we’d spend the night in the Ritz Carlton hotel, where we’d relax for a weekend in Mexico.
I’d explain that we can return to the precise point in time that we left with no repercussions on her life.
I’d then say to her “How about something a little different. I’d like to take you to a future I once scoffed at.”
From there, I’d take her to the Back to the Future year 2015 depicted in Back to the Future 2, where cars that could fly were everywhere, where children had hoverboards, so we could explore this odd alternate reality together.
I’d take notes about it all. Blog about it all. Take video. tons of pictures – rated G to rated X, because, let’s face it, I know the world needs more porn and I’m more than happy to provide more of a middle aged guy having sex with his dream women.
And once done with Rachel. I’d go pick up Jackie.
Now Jackie – she’d be an entirely different trip to take, and would start some experimentation I’d have with time travel. Rachel, she’d be a wonderful woman to take touring, and being casual and relaxed with most of the time. But Jackie, the sexual experimentation and things I would want to try with her would be altogether different.
So when Jackie left my house that morning after the dance.
I’d say “Jackie, would you please join me for a trip across the universe?”
And give her my hand.
There’s an alternate reality out there where both Rachel and Jackie say yes to it. Them there are the ones I’d be looking for and landing on. Guaranteed acceptance. No reason to suspect they’d ever say no.
And for Jackie, the first trip I’d take with her would be calm as well. Relatively speaking.
In a sense, I want Jackie to see my world as I see it. So I’d show her things I found to be beautiful in my world, boith man-made and natural. I’d take her Yosemite for lunch. I might rewind time to show her Yosemite as I saw it when the trees were young and I first started thinking I was going insane back in 2011.
For dinner and weekends we’d be in Hong Kong. I might rewind time with her around to see Hong Kong when it’s harbor was full of skiffs. I’d take her to New York, I know how she loves it and I’ve never been, just to see the city being built from the 1700s until now, as we sat somewhere and watched it happen over a period of hours.
I might take her to Paris during the renaissance, and most certainly would take her to see a Shakespeare Opera back in the 1600s. Jackie, while not cultured now, deserves culture and I’d love to introduce her to it in my own ways.
And from there. I might take her forward in time. To see Earth’s last days as the Earth is incinerated by the sun going supernova in 4 billion years in an event most timelords see more than once just because they can. I’d try my best to explain to her the concept of alternate realities and the reason why I never run into myself with my time traveling escapades, but I’d probably just leave it alone.
And from there. I might start daring her to do things – knowing how she feels about exhibitionism, and knowing my desires were magnified because she loves it too – I’d then take her to spots across the country and world to dare her to do things naked and sexually, and – as usual – take photos of it all, and share them all.
I’d explore with both Rachel and Jackie, and even ask if they’re interested in changing the nature of relationships by doing this together with me. A plan’s only a plan but reality often unfolds differently, and being sincere, the idea of both of these women being lifelong partners with this and through this is something that – unlike my marriages – carries such deep commitment to me to do because of the confidence I have that we can redefine our relationship as we need to and that’s not a problem.
When I was growing up. I made sure to make choices that didn’t cause a future me harm.
AS I get older, knowing time travel’s in my future, I have come to the same conclusion about me in the past. I can’t and won’t make changes to my past that will outright cause my younger version of me harm.
My personal rule for time travel is that any changes I make have to be congruent with time as I experienced it.
Should Rachel and Jackie disappear at that moment.
Maybe I might have to consider breaking that rule. And trust my younger version to mentally figure out a way to move forward despite the alterations.
Perhaps.. Create imaginary friends….
Now I don’t know what people think happened in Las Vegas.
But I am beginning to find it strangely comical – funny – that people are becoming increasingly insistent that what they believe is going on in the world is absolute.
So when I say – what happens in your world is NOT one and the same as what happens in mine.
I mean it.
Which is why I’ve vetoed all forms of current events and what you collectively refer to as news.
This for me is NOT reality.
It really is that simple. You can consider this a religious belief if that’s what it takes for you, collectively, to learn how to respect my world view better, which means – even if you don’t like it, and don’t respect it, move on and respect my choice of what to believe. I respect your belief. But IT doesn’t work for me. Kapiche?
For whatever reason you believe you have free will and choice, there’s no limitations to the extent of this choice.
Let me put this simply:
In my world.
The negative events and shit happening that I don’t want to happen anymore – you know – crap that’s depicted on the internet and being discussed by everyone with access to a computer – simply are not happening in my world.
This, for purposes of illustration, I’ll refer to as fictional in my world.
Not this doesn’t mean it’s not happening somewhere.
In your world, if you’re insistent on it being true, you can have it happen.
But my reality is no longer a consensus reality. I’m god of my reality. Dictator if you find that a better title. President and CEO of my particular ‘slice’ of time and space. And in this reality, which I’m slowly learning how to control through things such as want, desire, belief, and not wants, if there’s something I flat out don’t want…
Open violence in my country for instance.
Then guess what?
It gets shoved out of my country and immediate world.
Now chances are this will get shoved to a war oriented place like Iraq, Somalia, more often than not it’s being ‘slid’ to whoever or whatever can be determined to initiate the violence to begin with.
And I … Well IF i pay attention to the news, I’ll see it ‘bubble up’ as a news story that might try to relate it to the proximity of my immediate world. But since I’m tired of hearing this crap, and have vetoed hearing about violent crap altogether, and want to have a life with more fun, play, companionship, and enjoyment in particular, things like this no longer serve any purpose to me so I’ll just flat out not listen or care about it.
This is reality by choice.
Now over time, which this is already starting to happen, my reality and timeline will drift from the primary timeline where consensus beliefs seem to dominate and trump free will.
I’ve seen it in my trips around the world, and right here at home, where what’s reported on news, radio, etc just isn’t happening in the real world I see, feel, hear, touch and otherwise interact with.
This branch I’m creating – by me for me – is intended to placate the hedonistic lifestyle I prefer living.
I don’t want to eliminate war and violence altogether. So I isolate it by deflecting and redirecting the energy that otherwise might be directed at or near me, and let it spring up elsewhere.
This is occuring across time. So if you’re trying to change my world and timeline from the past.
I might incorporate things I enjoy into my world in some form or fashion, and if it’s too detrimental to my mind, the lifestyle I want and desire, or my world, then I might deflect it to an alternate reality. You can have your way too, no matter what it is, just not in my timeline.
And in the future, if you’re trying to preserve your future timeline based on historical events that require something of my timeline. Well that too can be preserved, in an alternate reality from my own, so moving forward my choices are my own and I get what I want…
And you do too, if you’re in my future.
With this formation of my reality – I don’t need consensus acceptance and approval for alternate realities to be true. I see them all the time in fiction, where there MAY be actors in my world that look and acted off scripts, but there’s also the guarantee that the reality depicted as ‘not real’ in my world is real in an alternate reality.
I deserve better.
And if this world doesn’t want to give it to me.
I’ll create it for myself through my own spin off universe.
Life’s a choice, and when you come to understand the absolute rabbit hole possibilities of how far you can take those choices for yourself, you might come to understand – as I have – that all we have is eachother, and when that stops working – as it has for me – then the position I’m in is – I’ll step away from it all.
Forming my world as I go along.
And not having to be held responsible for the misperceived collective consequences of my actions anymore.
I was never rich. And always wanted to be to have fun and enjoy this world.
I never really wanted to be famous. I don’t enjoy the attention.
And I would absolutely LOVE making time travel and alternate reality travel movies based on real events I experience AS they happen with a equipment and a crew that come with me.
This is the world I’m creating. Once where I can explore time and space without it corrupting my primary timeline, so I always have a home to return to at the end of the day after I’m done traveling.
I have YET to achieve this.