Reading harold_maude's journal

I'm waiting. For everyone to leave the house so I can start doing the things I need to do. It won't be long. I want to be here, in solitude and quite, and do, what ever.

Last night the weatherman said that there could be a possiblity of frost comming and that will bring the turning of the leaves into a faster pace. It's almost october now. Almost a year since we left, or rather escaped from one of the most depressing places I have ever been to.

It was sucking the life out of me in a rapid hurry and I got to the point where I was ready to walk out, when my mother sent just enough money for us to escape.

Here it is, alnost a year later and I'm restless again. I feel time doing things and I feel my body telling me that winter is comming.
I can't remember a time when it felt like spring comming inside. Summer has for a long time represented pain, and the comming of fall for many years was the best time of the year for me.

Now, however, what I feel is a sense of lack. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin now. I wish I could take off my skin and take a long vacation from myself. But humans don't have secret zippers somewhere so when we want to get away from our selves we can.
Would be nice though if we could.

A couple of years ago, when this adventrue started in my life, I was full of wonderful pioneeric ideals of going off into the unknown and finding an abandoned house and making it not only liveable but comfortable. I knew that there would be alot of hard painful work, and that I would probably fail alot, but I was pumped for the challange.

I wanted to find people who were into bartering and leave money off somewhere and not be a part of this madness that gobbles up everyone and everything in sight.
Back to somewhere....anywhere, where life was more about people who's need were dependant on whether or not they gathered and hunted for food and used the time before them with wisdom rather than being like the grasshopper in the story of the ant and the grasshopper.

It's horrible to have a need so deep to know what your made of and all you spend your time doing is being sidetracked by things that in the end don't and won't matter.

I've come to the conclusion that when the time comes for me to actually get a shot at my dreams, my body will have gone on permeant protest against doing anything more difficult than making it to some kitchen and conquoring the morning oatmeal.

I hear people all the time who are young wanting this and wanting that, and who hate their job, but in the very next breath complain about the things they can't buy or the concert they can't go to because of money.

I hate money. Life is more than money, but it's the most focused on thing that slapps a person in the face all the time.
I know I was born far too late. I'm outta sinc with the present and like a disjointed rag doll, cast off because it's too old to be attractive anymore, I am left to wish and want but not able to do what it is that would make what I want possible.

So now, it's wensday morning, my focus is gone, and I'm wandering around like a man who lost left his house key inside, absentmindly locked the door, and now he's outside in his underwear hoping the neighbors arn't up yet.

Ah the joys of not knowing what your doing in life. Soon everyone will be off to work. I'm going to get laundry done today, and the dishes too.
Maybe thoes simple things will be the thing that has all the answers that I need right now...(where is the back of the box of cereal when you need one)

Wish me luck on my laundry. I don't know where I'm gonna put all thoes clean clothes when their done. There isn't enough draw space, as we have one small dresser for both our clothes and some bags that they usually end up in.
That comes from having no furnature to speak of and taking people's cast offs because it's all you can afford.

I guess it's better than having them stuffed in the back of a small truck. We did that for over a year when we had no place to live. The money thing again. No job, only selling bits of jewerly and paintings, enough to keep gas in the truck so that we wouldn't freeze to death.
Eating maybe once a day some days. If we had been in a bigger city, or close to one, finding the grocery stores with open dumpsters would have been a good thing. We could have lived off what people were throwing away.

I've known several people who were homeless at one point and survived by eating food out of dumpsters because it was the only thing they could afford to do.

The great and massive depression of the present hidden away in the mist of modern day society, where even thoes with jobs can't afford a decient quality of life, or a reasonable standard of living. And no one, not the goverment, not the agencies who are designed to help really give a rat's left foot what happens to the people who are drowing in this depression.
And why? Because it's so rampent. The middle class is fast disapearing, leaving only two groups, the rich and the poor, both the homeless poor, and the working poor.
I'm waiting for the complete collaps of the economy as we know it, and when it comes, and very few people remember how to live off the land, there will be more than just a fincial collaps that occurs, it will become the survival of thoes who are not nessiarily the strongest, but thoes who remember and are able to live off the land. The truely educated in what is out there to eat.

Bye bye mc donalds and malls and all the other useless crap that has been shoved down our throats as the nessities of life...

once upon a time, your neighbors were as familar to you as your own family, and it wasn't nessary to lock and bolt the doors, for fear of someone breaking in.
Crime existed to be sure, but it was somewhere else, not in your lap.

Oh well, enough of thinking about this for today. I'm sure it will still be screaming at me tomorrow morning or tonight when day is done. I've got an abundance of discontent....any one want to barter?

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.