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I’m sorry momma!
I never meant to hurt you!
I never meant to make you cry; but tonight
I’m cleanin out my closet

Cleanin Out My Closet.  Eminem

I’m literally cleaning out mine.  Eminem was dumping a load of vitriol from his “closet.”  I have none of that.  I dealt with my resentments a long time ago.

I felt sorry for that poor boy when I heard that song.  The sentiments he expressed were horrific and incredibly self-destructive.  I could relate to it though; not for any reason relating to my my mother but rather to my sisters and a couple of other select personalities.  It nearly killed me, and if Em’s words were from his heart then he had a HELL of a lot of blackness there.

I got rid of mine five years ago.  There are some residual side effects but they are memories fading away now.  Remember folks, memories can’t hurt you unless you live in them.


My closet is literal.  I am preparing to leave my place off shelter for the last several months and travel to the street where the possibility is great that once there (again) I will remain there until the day I die.

The original plan was that I was going to leave here on Monday, March 26.  That plan has been adjusted.  The new target date is no later than  Wednesday, March 21st.  On that day, after waking up and eating and just doing some general fucking around, I will take everything I can carry on my back and in one hand.  One hand will be occupied with my cane so that pretty much takes care of that.

The challenge after that will deciding where to direct my toes after they hit the bricks.  I fully intend to write much more in here in the next week and a half about homelessness, both from a general perspective and from the impact on me personally.

As for my closet though and the state of my personal possessions therein or the lack thereof.  The only thing I really have to get rid of now is clothing.  Warm weather is virtually upon us and the winter coat will be left behind on my last day.  Also several shirts and two pair of pants.

Extra clothing is the most bothersome of all when homeless.  The weight and volume is tremendous.  There is absolutely no space for non seasonal apparel.  Shoes are a bitch.  Because of bulk and weight anything more than what you have on your feet is a true encumbrance but on the other hand if something should happen to your shoes without having backup is a true disaster.  Homeless AND barefoot is a virtual death warrant.

For a writer, books and paper are a big concern.  Once again, weight and bulk is tremendous.  Though volume is considerably lower than with clothes, writing material is inch for inch many multiples greater in weight, to the point of being prohibitive.  To many people this concern would be inconsequential, but, to me, my ability to write comes third after food and clothing

As for worrying, I know of at least one person who I think will worry about how I am doing.  Maybe two, but one for sure.  I wish I could tell them not to worry or try to convince them not to, but I think that it is a “can’t be helped” sort of thing.  I completely understand.  While I can say that if the roles were reversed that I would be very concerned for them, I can also honestly say that if I understood the situation as well as I would for myself in the same position that while I would not want them to hurt, I would support 100% their decision to do what they feel is necessary.

Don’t worry, Angel.  I’m taking it one day at a time.