I spent a few months sleeping in my car, staying in hotels, and camping out in the slabs while I saved up enough money to put down on a house in Arizona.
I don’t know, I didn’t feel like a real “slabber” I guess.
I just … had a goal … I suppose.
I remember a boy in Mexicali who sneered at me and called me a “Jota” for this.
Another in Leon, who bragged that he was an escort who did so well for himself that he had his own house in Monterrey.
You did, what, to live in Nuevo Leon??
I liked my house. But I never felt safe there.
Come to think of it, I don’t even remember the last time I felt safe.
As it starts coming back to me I quickly decide to go back to not remembering.
I am doing the same thing … again … this time I probably could put something down on a house but I would rather keep saving and scrimping for that.
I am okay. Probably better than I care to let on.
I smile inside when you look down on me and don’t take me for someone you don’t love, or maybe even don’t like, and you can just fucking use like some of the others.
If I ever were happy, if I did feel safe, if I did love again or have a career where I was purposeful and treated well – or have anything to show for my life again I would never breathe a word of it publicly because of who would come out of the shadows to destroy that or try to take that away from me next.
that ………. is the extent …… to which I have been fucked with and deprived. when I make public statements like “oh, jail? fine, just please do not ever send me back to that horrible fucking country or those horrible fucking people” —
I swear to god I am not even trying to be funny.
There might be a type of “refugee” in this world who shows up and demands a horse and a porsche and a farm and free groceries but I will tell you that , this person is not a mexican. A mexican will show up with the clothes on his back, a ziplock baggie with their identification (if he has any) and maybe a bottle of water if they are lucky. They will make something of their life, they will work hard and send money home and work towards having a better life someday.
And I go , well , my world could be upside down tomorrow but today I have a car . the radio and AC work today , i *almost* like my dorky little clown car as much as I liked the mazda .. i have clean clothes, I am fed, I have cigarettes and coffee and not a care in my world. i want for nothing.
Fuck you, Klaus Schwab. I already have nothing and I AM already happy, LOL.
“maga chuds” and right wingers are more or less happy with what they have , NOT interested in taking what YOU have , and just want to be left alone.
And then you have America. “Oh no. Self actualized people who don’t want to be slaves or live in debt, and are happy with a 20 year old car and 2 room concrete house. We will stop at NOTHING until they are as fucking miserable as we are!”
Maybe that is why I angry enough to sue Arizona. Nobody put me up to this. I am tired of prejudice and global aggression and .. just fuck off , I do not appreciate the threats to point weapons of war at me that I have paid for, and owe the IRS $10000 for. What the fuck do you need $10,000 for? So Israel can terrorize Palestinians and so Wendy can drone Haitians and Mexicans?
I furthermore believe this to be against multiple treaties the US is a party to.
Someone please tell all my useless elected representatives (including Bernie) that if they cannot accomplish one single useful thing in a 30 or 40 year career, fix this one thing: Property taxes are obstacles to personal freedom.
Fix that, and we will figure out the rest without congress and senate wagies.
I suppose I don’t mean to speak ill of HFASS.
I just go, “well.. this is what I came for … and this .. is what I left with.”
And when they read those cards out about everyones struggles and losses and grief and what have you, you look around and go “someone in this room is going through that, and they showered and put on some clothes and sat down with us and I can’t even tell from looking at you” and I am shook, that is all.
“When I stayed in to study on Saturday nights they were extremely kind to me because they thought I was so brave, working the way I did just to hide a broken heart.”Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar)