|Saturday, September 22nd, 2001|
I walked by the Portland Rescue Mission today after a night of a few drinks and free music.
I noticed it must have been a little overflown.
A man was curled up, asleep shivvering in what most of us would use to cover our matresses to shield them from stains. I threw a dollar in between him and the wall. A worker came outside and yelled at me to tell me that the mission was full, and they didn't need any more "humanitarians" sparing change for the "junkies". I never saw the man's face. I have been an inch off of the streets before.
Then I went down to the bus stops, there sat the reminense of what was to be Portland's homeless camp. All curled up in blankets, fucking freezing their asses off. I gave a couple of them cigarettes, and helped one with the aid of another out of his wheelchair. We sat, we smoked, we talked.
All the while a cop car sat with it's lights off watching. Shielding me from what their society has caused.
Who protects them?
Where are they when a 14 year old homeless woman is gangraped?
What the fuck is wrong with this country?
Why the fuck do several thousand people have to die before people realize "wow, we need to band together and aid those less fortunate than ourselves!".
I applaud everyone who has taken part in helping the victims of the horrible tragedy that has befallen our nation. But has anyone looked on their own street corner lately?
Tragedies happen on American soil daily.
We all should've banded together years ago, and I'm just as guilty as the rest of you.
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9:51a - Maybe this is a sign of...something
I'm not shakey today like I usually am.
My handwriting has actually improved.
Weird. Maybe I'm completely happy again.
Depression has made way for regret.
As the infamous Planet of the Abes song, "Nothing In Return" goes, "I can forgive, BUT I WON'T FORGET".
I'm a lyrical gangster.
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So, I still plan to get a tattoo. Once I get my car tuned up and work out all the bugs on it.
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