You know, there once was a time I had money and flew friends and lovers to cities when they didn’t have the money to pay for it.
There once was a time I’d frequently pick up the bill for dinner, for drinks, or for the movies, that’s just who I was.
That person isn’t going to be around for much longer…..
When I was 8 years old, I was having a severe problem with cavities, and wasn’t allowed to eat sweets for some time.
So one fine day shortly before Easter, I wandered to the corner Von’s Grocery store with my largest jacket on, and stuffed a rather large chocolate bunny in my coat and tried walking out.
I was grabbed on the way out of the store by the store manager, and immediately pissed my pants and started crying.
Throughout my life, I have had things stolen from me.
In 2004, my truck was stolen.
I loved that truck, a raised Toyota 4×4 with a lot of custom work I did myself on it, she was – for all intents and purposes – my baby.
A year later, the police found the truck with the VIN scratched out along the border of Mexico in Nogales. The truck now had a cover on it, my double roll bar had been removed, and in the bed of the now covered truck was a bunch of items which the police and I presumed to be stolen but we had no way of telling who to return them to so I inherited them and made $600 bucks on the stuff selling it.
I’d only had liability insurance, which didn’t cover the theft, and had bought another truck in the meantime, so I also turned around and sold the truck which had been having carburetor problems that I didn’t want to put into the truck to fix it up.
To me, it had been.. tainted. I’d felt violated with that theft.
And then. Four years ago. I have a bunch of spotty memories of trying to get into someone’s car in the border, but I had clearly been beaten up, and now I question – was my Lexus stolen from me with the rest of my personal belongings? I had nearly $3 million in personal assets in bank accounts, and $8 million owed to me by the US government, but now, looking back with a solid mind, I can’t help but think there was so much more going on to all of that and I was actually recovering from a massive head injury as I regained my memories.
Regardless. I’m homeless now. And questioned memories aside, I had all my bedding stolen last evening.
My mattress which had provided me solid sleep for the last 6 months. My pillows. I’d hidden it all in the park and last night, someone took a pile of garbage and dumped it all over my campsite which took half an hour to fix – someone said this is ‘them marking their territory’ – and they also took all my bedding.
So last night. As I kicked the only other homeless man smoking weed in my area – I told him if I find the person who stole the mattress , I’m beating the shit out of them.
Afterwards. I started thinking. I have laundry to do in three weeks. And no money for it. The only place I can do it at is the Burbank Center which requires a reservation called in on a phone I don’t have and money for a bus ride which I don’t have.
So I started thinking.
How easy it would be to break into a house in this neighborhood. Take some food. Do my laundry. And leave.
Me. I’m not a thief. In fact, I really hate thieves. But I am sincerely at a point where the options I have are non existent.
Society’s idea of options are ‘look for work’, ‘fit in’.
To what end? I had everything taken from me. No one believes me and even if they do, they aren’t letting on. So what’s the purpose in going back to work in a system which can and quite likely will continue taking from me that which I don’t even have anymore? Logically, a job is not a rational concept unless I’m making Hollywood wages and a million bucks for my ideas.
In any case. I also enjoy living just enough to want to continue with it, and having tried suicide as an exit strategy the last time, I have no desire going back to that way of life that inspired those actions. So work, in any capacity is a fool’s errand for me.
But I miss lying in a nice bed. I miss having a hot shower. I miss holding a couple women I love on a regular basis. And most of all. I miss the security of a simple lock on my door.
My other options are non-options. I’ve filed for disability through the VA and Social Security and was denied, after telling them I’m God and tired of working.
Welfare is $200 a month and requires me to actively pursue work. Not enough to live on, period, in any city in the world, let alone Los Angeles where rent for a couch is $550 a month.
And while I have tried VERY hard to drive myself insane as an escape strategy. That’s not working either.
So I am now considering more ‘rationally’ grounded pursuits.
Based on Science fiction.
Did you know that every time a Star Trek starship visits a past time period – they steal something, and the Captain is complicit with it?
I’m not talking one or two episodes. I’m talking dozens, throughout the series.
Ditto for Doctor Who. He steals and uses false credentials ALL THE TIME.
So I am thinking about training myself for time travel… And maybe I should take my situation as an invitation for personal education and develop more moral flexibility.
I had NEVER considered becoming a thief. But the benefits are clear. I will be able to sustain myself, to get a place, and to keep any income off the books and out of creditor’s and the government’s hands. A total win for me.
To those who it causes harm to. I was you at one time. And while I know this isn’t the right thing to do. Look at my options. I’m writing to you – in hopes that just one of you reads this and understands the plight of a man who has nothing to lose.
Incarceration will feed and clothe me. Will give me a warp bed at night with clean sheets. I am at the point where the punishment for a crime is outweighed by the benefit.
Now if punishment was harsher, let’s say I got my hand cut off. Even then, the punishment would be outweighed by the benefit. I’d then be legally disabled, and also be eligible for robotic hands and officially become an android. I’d not be against that one bit, and would collect enough income off the punishment to get off the streets.
In any case. I’ve been taking food from the grocery store just to eat. I leverage a receipt and act like I paid and walk right out with the can of soup, no one blinks an eye.
Next up – tomorrow – is a trip to Marshall’s to pick up a new pillow and a workout/sleeping mat.
In a state where prisons are overpopulated.
And with the highest population of homeless in the world.
Where the creative people are pushed to the streets in favor of those who can be more predictively productive….
I suppose the dark side has its allure 😉
I don’t ever do anything half assed though. So I figure if this is my path being placed before me.
I’ll be the best damned thief this world ever knew.
How do you make a thief?
Take away everything a person knows and loves.
Alter the memories of everyone he knew – including him – to believe it was all self-inflicted – leading everyone to believe he’s either crazy or this is what happens when you do drugs.
And just stand back and watch what happens next.
No, it’s not exciting to me. I sincerely do not want to take this path.
But this is simple survival.
And since I refuse to ‘just survive’ if I continue moving in this direction. I will excel at what I become.
Police can be bought. So can federal agents. The system I worked for taught me all that.