September 2004 in 2000s

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2004
Tina’s husband is now doing the room, and boy have I got a rather funny story to tell about her! Tom left me in the room while he went to grab stuff from the gas station, then to pay up throughout Saturday morning. He was talking to what he thought was Tina when all of a sudden, a car pulled up and Tina got out of it! So as he came back telling me, there’s two Tina’s. That makes a lot of things that seemed peculiar make sense now that we know that. There’d be times when we’d mention something to “Tina” that she didn’t seem to know about that we’d recently mentioned to her like the day before or something like that. Also, I noticed the other day that “Tina,” who’s really her sister-in-law (I thought they were twins due to how much they look alike), had a much flatter stomach, and I thought to myself, no amount of ab crunches could do that in just a day! That’d also explain why sometimes I’m “ma’am” and other times I’m “Jodi.”

I have no problem with the English, Hispanic and southern accents, but this Indian accent is rather hard to understand at times. When the older guy was doing the room, he said what sounded like, “This is my brother’s room.” It took me a minute to realize he was really saying, “This is a nice room.”

Later…

Tom and I went across to Mollie’s for dinner. I got a giant porterhouse pork chop. It wasn’t all that great, but edible enough.

My period was pretty wimpy, so given that, plus the fact that I didn’t spot for a year before I got it, tells me I might be able to “spell” them away little by little.

We also learned something else. Leaving here wasn’t the mistake, coming back was. Except for the scattered series of bangs, the Mexies still aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, but they’re still costing us. They’re not doing any weekly rates while the scumbags are here, so we’re going to zip across the street to the La Vista motel Saturday morning. The shitheads aren’t invading that place. Oh, and they do use their grills. We saw them using one earlier.

I’m just so sick of being a little basketball! Tom said that if his mom was smart, she’d send us our Christmas money now so she could be helping us while at the same time sticking to her “no more” rule she set on us. It’s not that she’s not smart enough; she’s too wrapped up in herself to care. I think that’s the real issue and I don’t know if “no more” means no Christmas money either, but I doubt we’ll find a check for a grand waiting for us at the end of the week. That’s ok, though, cuz if we don’t, we’ll survive on our own and we’ll ignore her and her perfect little daughter altogether. Tom says he’ll still get his inheritance because she’s too dumb to cut him out of her will and because the IRS will go after any executor of any will that doesn’t see to it that everybody that’s due money, gets it.

I just want a home! Even our old dump of a house in Phoenix seems like heaven to me right now. A similar thing happened to me when I moved to Connecticut. When I moved from the Woodside apartment to the Oswego one, the Oswego one seemed so small and dull compared to the Woodside one, but then when I moved to the NHA, that tiny little dive made it seem big and luxurious. I’d never want to be back in any of those neighborhoods, though.

Anyway, today’s the day I finally went from sad to mad. I don’t know if we’ll ever get to build a house or move to a retirement community in San Diego, but I’m determined to live long enough to see him get that wheel for his computer car racing game, and I’m going to get some of these damn dolls I’ve wanted! Furthermore, we’re going to get out of the city for good after we do this last 6-month sentence back in the city (though we may do a year depending on what’s out there), and not return for things other than shopping/errands!

I figured that if I’m going to have to fight for doll packages anyway, regardless of where they’re coming from, I may as well order some PG dolls. Ashton-Drake dolls are nicer, though most aren’t that much nicer and neither do realistic eyes, so why not save a ton of money and mostly do PG dolls? I’m only going to get the ones from Ash that I think are exceptionally nice.

We were going through The Nickel, which advertises apartments and houses for rent/sale, and there’s this manufactured home dealer that charges $25 per square foot, making a 1000-square-foot place cost $25,000. I don’t know where we’ll go once we leave the city, but I do know this – it’s going to be for the last time! Also, I’m going to have two bathrooms again someday. I hate having to pee so badly when he’s taking a shower!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2004
I have quite a bit of updating to do. I hope I can remember everything there is to catch up on. I was just too stressed, depressed or tired to keep up on things as they happened.

For starters, the trip back to the Townhouse was a waste, so the Mexies not only cost us extra money (because if it hadn’t been for them we would’ve signed on for another week here which is cheaper), but we’re also stuck back living with them again. So far they haven’t been as bad as I thought they’d be, but the point is the same – we keep getting stuck back with everything we ran from, and our dreams are just that – dreams. The house in the woods, the $100 a month of spending money, the San Diego retirement house, etc. They’re all just dreams. Because of this and all the shit we’re forced to go through, I’ve upped the day I kill myself from New Year’s to my birthday. I have a feeling Tom won’t be joining me in death, but it’s his life and he has a right to continue with it if he chooses to. All I know is that life in the RV wasn’t nearly this stressful! I slept shitty and we hated having to deal with the water/electricity situation, but for me, life there was better and easier. I wasn’t as depressed as I’d been. I can’t seem to go more than 2-3 days without crying and I am so, so pissed at God. How I hate Him so! If there is a God, He’s a real asshole for allowing us to be in this situation. I’m sorry, but we just don’t deserve this shit. It’s not as bad as being in jail, but it’s worse than the probation stress. Either way, it’s bad enough, so it doesn’t matter. Our lives have been turned upside down and inside out. I miss my old life. The one we had in Maricopa before and after the sickos invaded it once again. I’m just so sick of the struggling we do, and I’m sick of losing things or failing to achieve them in the first place. What the fuck does God want from me? For me to give up everything I own and only go after the unwanted things in life? Should I go after everything I don’t want and don’t want only? I don’t think so. I’d rather die than continue on as His little puppet. I’m not going to live life as an impoverished little dreamer!

He thinks my second letter to the queen will prompt a check for a grand since I mentioned that’s what we’re saving up for to get out of motels, and since we didn’t ask for money, but my first instinct is to say, no she won’t. I know I said this before and was wrong, but that was when she said to let her know if we needed help, and not the selfish “no more” bullshit her perfect little daughter told us she said.

Let me try to go in order of events. We went back to the Townhouse on the 25th. Before I left, I said goodbye to Tina, who told us we were very nice guests, she enjoyed having us, etc. The reason the Townhouse was a dumb idea, besides the fact that it’s too expensive, was that having that extra bedroom only made the place twice as noisy. This rude bitch below us was constantly going in and out of the cabinets in her kitchenette which was right below that bedroom. She was annoying me so much when Tom was out fetching a sandwich with the constant slams and bangs, that I stomped on the floor really loud a couple of times. Not even 90 seconds later, there was a knock on the door. The old couple’s son, I guess it was, asked if everything was alright because the lady downstairs heard a loud crash. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, especially since we didn’t live there, so I said a chair accidentally fell over. Then he asked if something was burning and I told him I was burning incense. Then he goes down to tell Susan, from what I heard him call her, that he guessed everything was ok. Lastly, he came back to tell me not to burn anything because it was a non-smoking room. I just gave him my “Oh, I’m sorry,” line, saying that I thought only cigarettes weren’t allowed.

I really didn’t burn anymore either. For one, I was congested, and also, I don’t like to mess with those who have our credit card number if I can help it.

Anyway, that is so Massachusetts-like of her to complain, which makes me think some of the wonderful neighbors we’re bound to have will complain about my singing, but tough! Besides, I’d rather be complained of than for me to have to complain about someone who may shoot me for it or have me thrown in jail if they have the right connections to do so, and all in a place where my kind takes a back seat to everyone else, though I won’t let what happened stop me. If I’ve got a problem with someone, I’m not going to just take their shit and kiss their ass.

The complainer apparently got a little payback, from what Tom told me after I had listened to music. There was a loose dog running around the parking lot, and this bitch, for reasons I can’t fathom, would leave her door open as well as the stairwell door that both apartments use to enter. Why she’d want to let bugs in and not just open a window, beats me, but anyway, Tom heard her yelling, “Get out, get out!” So the dog apparently went to visit her.

The Townhouse is definitely a place we won’t be going back to. Too noisy, too expensive. They put a lot of stress on us too, by telling us they’d have to move us come Monday if they had a room. What was stressful about it was that he’d be at work, leaving me virtually homeless and on the streets if they ended up with no rooms.

I was so depressed on Sunday and Monday and wanted to die so badly! But Tom keeps telling me to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. But when is there a better opportunity than now to die? We’ve pretty much hit rock bottom, and I know too good and well that when one hits rock bottom, they tend to stay there for a while. For quite a while. That’s okay, I don’t want to climb back up anyway, because I always fall back down too fast. I don’t know if I’d say I miss Arizona, but a part of me wishes we could jump on a plane and fly back to our old house (in Maricopa, of course) and walk inside it to find everything just as it used to be. All our furniture, our other stuff, etc. Oh, I can’t think of it! I’ll only bawl my eyes out all over again.

After deciding to skip the Chinese place, as much as I looked forward to seeing whatever-her-name-is because it’s so expensive, and just grabbing fast food, we hopped across the street to the Motel 6. The one we stayed at that has no tubs and shitty showers. They said they wouldn’t have rooms available till after 3:00, and I wasn’t in the mood to really play up our homeless bum status in life that our wonderful God has blessed us with by hanging out on the streets for a few hours, so that’s when I called Tina. She was quite glad to hear from me, too. I got a kick out of her reaction, actually.

After just two hours of sleep, we came back here the next day at 6 AM on the 27th. (my schedule’s gone haywire because I’ve become immune to the Benadryl and we couldn’t find Melatonin, not that we have the money for it now). We briefed both Tina and her husband in, then I was put in 116 and he went to work. Tina let me know that that room was reserved and that she’d move me in two hours (I feel more and more like a basketball than a human being with all the damn moving we do!) so now we’re in 109, a few doors down from 106 where we were last time.

The room has its pros and cons compared to the other room. I don’t like how it’s lighter in here at night, but it’s got nightstands. That makes waking up with coffee more convenient. I usually get up and get a cappuccino at the nearby gas station. I’ve gotten to know the woman on first shift and the Richard Gere look-alike on second shift, really well.

The first day back here I slept till 2 PM once I was moved. I fell asleep last night at 2 AM and got banged awake at 10 AM when Tina’s husband and her father-in-law were housekeeping. If it weren’t for my liking them so much, I’d have chewed them out royally. At that time I went and paid Tina, explaining we’d have to pay in chunks, but was sure we’d need the room till at least Saturday. She said to let her know for sure, so she doesn’t rent the room out to someone else. She’s only got 4 scum-free rooms right now. After leaving her and going to the store, I crashed from 12:30 - 3:30, and will probably be up till dawn. I know I’ll get banged awake along the way as well as when they come to do this room (I told Tina I’d like service every other day), but oh well. I’m used to having disrupted sleep. It’s a fact of my life. Always has been, always will be, till I exit this sorry earth.

So here’s how life’s been with our little farm animals so far. I can’t deny the fact that they’ve been quieter than I thought they’d be, thank God. I thought it’d be like the NHA or at least Phoenix, though things do go bump more often than they should and I’d still prefer them to leave. When we arrived here they were standing in clusters waiting for the bus to pick them up. I was surprised to see them out before the sun was up since you do need light to work on a farm. I was totally dismayed to see that while a bus comes to fetch them and to drop them back off here, they do have several of their own vehicles, and sure enough, a few stayed back to blast their fucking stereo while they worked in the hood of another vehicle. I had Tina’s husband have them turn it down. I thought that true to people’s defiant nature, they’d take “turn it down” to mean “just a little, and only for a while,” but I’m pleased to report that I haven’t heard any more car stereos. I’m sure I will, though. It’s only day two.

There’s also some good in them having vehicles and that’s that they go out and get drunk in bars or whatever the scumbags do after work, and aren’t trapped here to cause trouble. However, I’m worried about how the weekend will be. I just hope they’ll want to get the hell out and not hang around to disrupt our lives any more than it already has been! I would think the poor shits wouldn’t have laptops to stay around and bang on, and they certainly wouldn’t want to spend their time relaxing with a good book.

Another thing we both weren’t happy to see was the grills they’ve got set up, but if either of them has been used yet, I haven’t seen it. I fear they’ll spend the weekend out grilling and partying in the parking lot, but if they really act up, I’ll call Tina, and hopefully other guests will, too (as long as they’re not from Arizona where that’s such a no-no). I would think they’d be more inclined to act somewhat civilized as opposed to the Phoenix freeloaders because the Phoenix freeloaders had nothing to lose. They were given a free house and a free income. If these people get kicked out of here and fired, they’re fucked, not that it’d hurt to see someone who may actually deserve to lose what they’ve got, or at least most of it, take a fall.

Tom found a woman that would let me pawn some of the fashion dolls, but you know what? I’m tired of losing and having to give up this and give up that! I know we could buy them back, but still, I promised I wouldn’t let circumstances interfere with the things that are dearest to me. Having to store them away for so long is enough! If I were to live I’d sell the least favorites and quit collecting altogether, but since I don’t plan to be around much longer, I’ll let Tom do what he wants with them after I’m gone because I doubt he’ll be joining me in death. It’s his life, so it’s got to be up to him. If we both were to die, then who gives a shit where the dolls end up?

We went to a property management place and were given a list of their studios, apartments, duplexes and houses for rent. First of all, my vibes are going to be right about us not getting out of here on Saturday. We’ll probably be here for at least two more weeks. Secondly, we’d have to sign a 6-month lease on an apartment and a 1-year lease on a house. Tom weighed the pros and cons of an apartment versus a house, but as I told him, he’s welcome to pick what he wants because I won’t be around long enough to care! The houses are Phoenix-close, we have a noise curse on us, and so I know that no matter where we went and no matter how long we did, it’d be noisy. I know we’d only end up with a place where the neighbors had cabinets along walls dividing our place from theirs, making it go bump and bang constantly, and I know there’ll be dogs, kids and vehicle noise, so what difference does it make? We’re never going to get what we want, and if this is our only choice in life, I’d rather just end it all. Why live when there’s so much more bad than good? Why live to get grayer, fatter, older, wrinkled, arthritic, etc.?

Anyway, after seeing a triplex on a very steep hill and a cool view (I thought it’d be noisy with people, dogs and traffic) we came to pay Tina for tomorrow, and tomorrow we’ll pay her for the next two days, then we’ll do a week. Tina said I could pay anytime, even at night, which was very nice of her.

If there’s anything good going on these days, it’s the weather. It’s been in the 70s a lot and it looks like it’ll stay that way for another week.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2004
It’s now our last night at the A-1 Budget Motel. Last night got kind of door-slammy, but tonight’s oddly quiet. There’s no one on either side of us. I’m surprised because it’s Friday night.

I ended up having an interesting talk with Tina, who I learned is the owner. Well, I think her in-laws may be the owners, but either way, there are two things I can say about Indian women – they’re way good-looking, but they’re way too short. She’s even shorter than me and because of it, I thought she was 5 or 6 months pregnant when in fact she had the baby a month ago. It’s just that when you’re so short, you retain that pregnant look forever.

The more I spoke with her, the more I agreed with her and thought her to be pretty cool, while Tom wouldn’t necessarily think so because he’s so anti-generalism. She told me she moved from Tampa, Florida to escape black people and told me how she, her sister and others, have had numerous problems with them. When I told her of my troubles with them, she was both surprised and not so surprised.

I got a kick out of how she said, “Why would these people do these things to you? You’re a good person. I’ve known you a whole week,” as if a week were a long time.

I told her I knew Spanish and sign language and was considering learning another language and asked her about the Indian language. She said it’s not hard to learn to speak but is hard to learn to write. She wrote something for me which looked like shorthand. I know I won’t be learning Arabic or Chinese! I went to this site that speaks out sentences as you read them. Simple sentences like ‘How are you?’ and ‘What is your name?’ Arabic and Chinese sound so retarded, not to mention extremely hard. I could maybe learn German or Hebrew, but Italian and Portuguese would definitely be the easiest since they’re so similar to Spanish. The thing is, though, you can’t learn an entire language online for free, so since learning another language isn’t a high priority for me, I’ll skip it.

Instead, Tom and I checked out online palm reading sites for fun. When we found one that didn’t demand money for the results of their little tests, we found it somewhat accurate, though too general. I wouldn’t put as much stock in it as I would my vibes. I just hope his logic beats my vibes and we really are in an apartment come the 2nd!

Blondie spends a lot of time free nowadays. He’s so adorable, so loving and so much fun, but I wish he wouldn’t piss so much! Either way, he’s definitely stolen Little Buddy’s spot as being the best rat we’ve ever had. He’s definitely the most social. He loves to sit with us and be patted much like a guinea pig does. He’s smart too, and usually comes when he’s called. He sure does come running when he hears plastic or paper rustling, signaling food! He preens us sometimes which is weird. I guess not having another rat to do that to is why he does it.

Anyway, I wish we could find a cheap apartment quiet enough to be worth staying in till we either decide to go somewhere else in Oregon or to another state. I’m just tired of all the moving. I moved around in apartments, houses, hotels, jails, etc., and it gets so damn old! Why can’t I just settle down somewhere and stay there? Why are the simplest of things so out of reach for me? I don’t think this is asking for much at all.

So tomorrow we’ll be back at the Townhouse where they’ll slam me awake periodically between the hours of 6 AM-noon, but I’m looking forward to having a tub, a separate room, and a place to get wholesome food easier instead of all this junk I’ve been eating.

What I really look forward to is an apartment somewhere where the people around us will let me sleep whenever I say so. I’m sick of having to take Benadryl to go to sleep which is getting harder to do. I guess I may be getting too used to the stuff. I’m also sick of being cut off from my stuff. I’ve had Bailey for 5 years now, and the time she’s been either stored away or that I was away from her adds up to a whole year! Like I said, why have dolls if I have to sell or store them so much?

Later…

Back at the bumpy, bangy Townhouse. I said goodbye to Tina this morning, who told me I was such a nice person and all that, and I let her know we may be back. Yes, if we’re still cursed with motel life once the Mexicans get the hell out of here, she’s the one we want to go back to. Her place is noisier than that oh-so-serious and not-so-friendly Arab, but she’s so friendly, and we like being able to access the net.

We went to pawn his trombone and the camcorder after leaving Tina’s, then the housekeeper here, who’s runner-up in the ‘friendly’ department, checked us in. Now that I know and understand the layout of this place, I can see why the door slamming is so obnoxious here. Yes, people want to be heard, but still, the layout and types of doors that are in here kind of make it hard not to hear it. Between each room is a stairwell, so there’s a total of 6 doors close to us. The two at the bottom of our stairwell, the two by the stairwell on the other side of us, plus the upper doors on either side of us. I can also hear the people downstairs slamming cabinets in their kitchenette. Nonetheless, I like having a separate room that I can shut myself in if I want to read or type while he watches TV, even though I know I’ll be woken up a zillion times. I know it’s not always easy being quiet. People drop things, they stumble, and they accidentally close doors too hard, but they don’t even try to be considerate of others. As Brenda said (that’s the name of the pizza lady, though she was off today), people just don’t care.

The ceiling in the separate room is way cool. It’s been sprayed with a texture that has scattered bits of glitter in it which looks neat.

I doubt we’ll need heat at least for a few nights. We’re not only on the second floor, but it’s been in the high 70s. Not bad for late September.

Tom spotted Blondie eating something that didn’t look like his food and he came and got me. He apparently was eating a piece of a granola bar that someone else dropped.

We were surprised to get a check for $24 from the Handyman’s Club, something I signed Tom up for in order to get freebies, plus a lifetime membership.

Also, he got an email from Miss Perfect, and this time he’s not even going to bother to respond. All she had to say before she gloated about her new kitten was that mom’s blood was bad and that they’ve had to go to doctors a lot (boo hoo!), but now she doesn’t have to go back for 8 weeks. (aw, too bad) Secondly, she cut her leg (boo hoo hoo!), but didn’t require stitches (I wish I could make her require stitches). Lastly, she said they were able to see the pictures (the ones I sent months ago), sorry it took so long to let us know. Yeah, like she or Dave couldn’t have taken the 60 seconds it would’ve taken to send an email saying they got them. They are just so stuck on themselves and so in their own little world. What used to seem like rather compassionate people, have turned to total stone. She closed with a half-ass comment about “hoping things were better for us,” like it was a last-minute afterthought. Meanwhile, nothing at all was said about our predicament. I was tempted to respond with: When you lose your home and are broke and homeless with a family that doesn’t give a shit and another too toxic to keep in your life, then I’ll feel sorry for your damn cuts and bad blood. However, they’re just not worth it. So, just like Dave ignored my email, we’re ignoring hers. I had wanted to try to keep in touch enough to let them know every time we changed addresses so we could hope to get his share of his inheritance, but you know what? Who gives a shit? It’s just not any big loss if we don’t get it. I mean, so we get 20 grand, do okay for a while, then we’re broke all over again and living like little bums following the script the bastard in the sky wrote out for us and not what WE want for our lives. Like I said, I’m sick of the up-down-up-down routine. Let’s just stay down, ok?

I am totally astonished to report that I’ve gotten down to just a few days before my next period without one spot of blood! If his dick squirted and I wasn’t psychic, I’d be wondering, alright, then if I skipped I’d be terrified, but I know I’ll get it by Wednesday, probably sooner.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2004
Well, when I asked myself if I wanted the Mexicans to cost us more money or if I wanted to be stuck living with them all over again, I decided I’d rather get away from them and have them cost us a bit more money. This means that we will be checking out of here on Saturday for sure and going to the Townhouse. Tonight we reserved a room for Saturday and Sunday. If worse comes to worst and we can’t afford the Townhouse, which is a bit more expensive without weekly deals, we’ll try some other places. Better yet, I’d like Tom to be right about us being done with motels altogether by October 2nd like he calculated, but I have my doubts. He thinks we can get into an apartment on October 2nd and into a house by February. Nothing ever goes as we plan it, and when it does, it never happens when we plan it. Nonetheless, he went through and explained the math to me and how/why he hopes to have us “sitting pretty” in just a few months from now. I, on the other hand, think we’ll always struggle financially. I’ve been pretty much doing just that since I went out on my own and that was nearly 20 years ago, so why would anything change now unless I get psychic enough to win us tons of money?

The question is – I seem to be saying “the question is” a lot lately – where will we end up? Will a miracle happen in that we find an apartment that’s quiet enough to stay in? Will we end up in a house around February like Tom thinks we can? Will we move to another part of Oregon that’s closer to the coast? Will we save up to buy a place in Nevada? Will we save up to buy/lease a place in a San Diego retirement community? Moving so much is adventurous and does make for good variety, though I’d still like to find a suitable place and stay there for more than half a decade.

See, a lonely prisoner like Bob cared enough to send a letter of encouragement, but does his damn family care? No, of course not! I knew they wouldn’t. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she blew off my birthday and our Christmas money altogether. She’s that selfish, conceited and spiteful. Instead, she’ll send a holiday card to Doe and Art, telling them we’re struggling in Oregon like fools. That’s ok. She’ll be getting what’ll be my final letter. And of course, being the dumb person most people are, Marge will be like, why don’t I ever get letters from Jodi anymore? Why in the world did she stop writing?

Some people just can’t put two and two together!

Bob asked what in the world is Tom doing with a Datsun? Those are horrible. He should get a Ford.

I’ll have to tell him we’re cursed no matter what make/model/year we get.

Tonight’s been ok so far, but it was rather noisy here last night. They slammed car doors and room doors, and the couple next to us argued till 2 AM.

Again I had them give us service, figuring I’d skip tomorrow, then check out Saturday. The guy was telling me that his mom got a little jealous at seeing Tom chatting with Shelvin (they apparently know each other). I defended Tom, of course, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault he happened by while he was working on the truck, and he understood. He said he’s happy as long as his customers are happy and that while Shelvin’s ok, his dad’s mean, very mean. Tom laughed when I told him that. Yes, Mr. Serious isn’t a very nice guy at all. I guess he’s just not a happy person, from what Shelvin told me.

Not surprisingly, when I asked him how the farmers were (they come here every year), he said they were loud and destructive. Yes, they’re little animals. That much is for sure!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2004
Tom got the truck fixed, so now it can go ahead and break again and cost us more money we don’t have. While he was working on it, he was close to the road and Shelvin walked by at one point. Wow, that’s a long walk from his place to here! Anyway, he said his dad would’ve let him work on it at their place and that he and his father are mechanics of sorts.

We were trying to figure out just why the motels were packed at this time, besides because we’re here, and it hit Tom that the college semester just started and most of the people here are probably seeing their kids off to school. Yeah, well either way, them and the Mexicans costing us the extra money they’re going to cost us since we can’t get a weekly deal at the Townhouse, the only place around that isn’t going to be infested with them, is just another example of how my life is forced to rule around others. Always others affect me and my life! Anyway, I’m sure the motels will die down just as soon as we’re out of them.

Tomorrow we’re going up to the land. If my plants have beat the odds and my “water spells” have kept them alive, I’m going to bring them more water. I’d say they’re dead, though. I just don’t see how they could go two weeks without water. The desert palm – maybe – but the tropical spider plant? It hardly seems possible it could be alive. I just hope no one fucked with the place while we were gone! If they did, it may actually make me glad we can’t keep the land because if they could break into an old dumpy RV, they’d certainly be enticed by a house or a cabin.

The more I get to know this town, the more I see just how small it really is. I know God’s going to send us trouble for neighbors no matter where we go, though. He’ll be all the more certain to sic loud car stereos on us because it’s too cold for people and dogs to be outside year-round bouncing balls, barking and screaming their heads off. However, it’d sure be nice to get a place with a cellar, and even nicer to get a place that had a washer and a dryer down in it, but I doubt either of these things will happen because they’d be too expensive. We noticed that only some of the houses have cellars. They’re not as abundant as they are in New England, though they’re not as scarce as in Arizona. Too many of them have driveways that go between the houses like in Arizona. This makes me even more vulnerable to the noisy neighbor curse, but oh well. Anything’s better than motels, and if we’re forced to deal with problem neighbors, we’ll do it right this time and in a place dominated by whites. I just wonder how long it’ll be before they can possibly be a problem for us to have to deal with!

I keep thinking of that chick at the Chinese place. It’s not that she’s oh-so-gorgeous or anything, and she may not be my type at all personality-wise. She seems too hyper, too chatty, too ditzy and like she comes on too strong. I see Brenda in her. I think she smothers people and it wouldn’t surprise me if she smokes and does drugs. Still, I do look forward to seeing her again, and somehow I get the feeling that she does, too. At first I thought – nah, she doesn’t have a thing for me, but that’s what I said with the idea of Palma and Teddy Bear liking me and I turned out to be wrong. They did like me. Either way, it’ll be cool to see how she behaves the next time I see her. I’d be her friend if she was clean and wouldn’t mind being just friends, but like I said, she may have some traits I could do without.

Later…

Tom said he thinks gay marriages are going to be on the ballot because he’s seen a lot of bumper stickers about it. Bigoted ones, that is. He reminded me that sooner or later it has to be either legal everywhere or illegal everywhere, and I’m sure it’ll be illegal. He thinks it’ll be legal because - who cares? But that’s just the thing – everyone always cares about what’s going on with everyone else. Except for us, people always want to control others and are more interested in what’s going on with other people than they are with themselves. People live to butt into other people’s lives and get them to conform to their ways. Gays will never have much in the way of rights. Meanwhile, the blacks will keep racking up more rights than anyone else ever had or will have.

Anyway, we went to the land we almost had and found that no one tampered with anything. That wasn’t such a shocker. What was unbelievable was that not only were the palm and the spider plant alive and well, but so was the big leaf plant that’s been looking on the verge of death for so long! I was really amazed. The spider actually looked better and like it had grown.

While we were there we got the generator to pawn or sell, some more tools, and then I brought our canned goods, some makeup, my dreadlocks machine, and my airbed for when we have to sleep on the rock-hard beds at the Townhouse. Only thing is, how are we going to blow it up? We didn’t bring the blower. Besides, the thing’s made to plug into cigarette lighters.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2004
The more I get to know the family that owns this place, the more I like them, though they’re not always very bright. We have to keep getting our keycards renewed. I guess the battery’s low or something.

Anyway, they were kind enough to acknowledge my note and not wake me up, though a series of bumps and bangs woke me up throughout the morning. It was a full house last night so it was probably whoever was next to us. When I got up just after 11:00, I called to let them know I was ready for room service, and I must admit it was nice to be waited on for a change, even if it was at our expense and not for nothing. The lady’s husband came to help, along with the older guy whose English sucks, and I must admit it was rather amusing watching two men make the bed. We won’t need service tomorrow, though, so I’ll leave a little note.

Meanwhile, the husband, who I think is the nicest, let Tom play fix-it in a wide-open area where big trucks park. So far so good, he said when I last checked.

The woman (I don’t know anyone’s name) is rather pretty, though she’s a foot too short. When I went in a little while ago to get my keycard reactivated, she said she was going to show this room in 5 minutes and asked if that was okay. I said it was, but no one’s come to see it yet. Why would she want to show an occupied room, though? I don’t think they’re full up yet.

Soon I will luxuriate in a shower with gallons and gallons of hot water that someone else is paying for! For now, I wish I could bring myself to concentrate on my story, but I guess it’s just a mental block I have as Tom said. It just may have to wait till we’re in an apartment somewhere.

Yesterday I called the Townhouse motel to find out about weekly rates and whether or not the scumbags intend to infest that place, too. The bad news is that she doesn’t have weekly rates, but the good news is that the little shits won’t be there. We’ll probably go back there this weekend. It’s noisier there, but I think we’d like to have that extra bedroom opened up next time around. It’s only $6 more a night, but that way I can escape into the bedroom when I want to read without the damn TV distracting me. There’s also that pizza place next door so I can have a full meal that’s filling for not much money, rather than all this junk I’ve been having. I’m sure I’m at least 130 pounds again. See? This is why I don’t bother losing weight. Circumstances only cause it to come right back, and no, I’m not going back to my exercise ball. I’m going to stick to jogging because no circumstances could stop me from doing that unless I break my legs.

Later…

I really hope the two cocks next to us are out of here tomorrow. This is their second night here and I can still hear them talking even with the laptop blaring music as loud as it can. They talk non-stop for hours and it really gets old. But this is what God wants for me, isn’t it?

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2004
I’m no longer sure I like this motel. They not only woke me up this morning after the woman said she’d tell the guy that does the rooms to stay away till the afternoon, but they’re stupid, too. Friendly, but stupid. They don’t seem to know much English and every day we have to have our electronic keycards reactivated. They’re also always putting people next to us. They haven’t woken me up yet, but I don’t like having to hear their voices or TVs when I am awake, even if it’s not loud. Again, I did not come here for this shit!

When I think of these owners I can’t help but wonder how the hell come they get to come over here to end up doing pretty damn good for themselves, while we’re from here and we can never get ahead.

We won $10 on a crossword scratch ticket today.

This weekend, along with letters to Paula and Bob, I’ll be sending what I’m almost certain will be the queen’s last letter. I write and tell them of our predicament, and we get shit for it. No email, no phone calls, no letters, certainly no money of all things, and that’s cold. That’s just really cold. They’re nothing but fair-weather friends and I don’t do those any more than I do control freaks, so they can forget about ever hearing from me again.

Never before have I wanted to reach up in the sky, pull God’s ass down to me, and beat it silly. How I hate the mother-fucker for doing this to us! If He’s not the one cursing us, He certainly isn’t helping us. Goes to show again just how delusional religious people are. When they’re not busy bashing gays and being little bigots, they’re promising people that God will help those who help themselves, and this is bullshit. Pure bullshit!

I put a note out asking that they don’t knock before 1:00, so we’ll see if it works. Some other guy told me his English wasn’t good, and I’m like, then why’d he go ‘yeah, yeah, ok,’ and make like he understood me if the dumb cock really didn’t have a clue as to what I was saying?

Another thing I dislike about this room is that it has an even bigger gap under the door than the Arabs did, so I have a towel jammed against it.

Sometimes I just don’t get why God hates me so much, but I also don’t get what He expects me to do in life. Go after everything I don’t want in life? Make lots of friends and live in a crowded, noisy apartment? Never buy another doll or even incense?

I’m just sick of Him using people to turn our lives upside down! I’m sick of all the moving around we do, and I’m sick of struggling. I’m still more than seriously considering suicide come the new year, too. The only question is whether or not I can convince Tom to go with me so I won’t have to desert him. I don’t understand why he’d want to keep going in a life that can never get much better. Why would he want to keep on going through the same old cycles of bullshit over and over?

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2004
At 11:00 last night, we got someone on the left of us, but they didn’t wake me up. Already, we have people on both sides of us today, so if they’re this busy on a Sunday night, we’ll probably always be sandwiched in while we’re here. As long as they don’t steal my sleep, I’ll survive. They’re not bouncing basketballs off the walls or anything. I just turn on my sound machine to drown out their TVs which is about all I hear so far. They’ve been good as of yet about not going in and out constantly or slamming doors.

The weather’s been cool, cloudy and a bit rainy.

We went to the Chinese place today and that smiley waitress was there. Yeah, I’d say she’s definitely gay or at least bi. She sure acted it anyway. Tom said she was just going for a big tip, but unlike with her other customers, she sure was rather flirtatious with me, calling me honey, and even hugging me at one point because she brought me the wrong order. She was nice to Tom too, saying how nice it was of him to bring me there. She’s older than I thought she was, seeing her close up this time around. I’d say she’s right about my age, perhaps even a bit older.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2004
We’re now at the A-1 Budget Inn about a mile away from the Arab’s dive. For the same weekly rate of $175, we’re in a much nicer room with seemingly friendlier people from India, though there was nothing wrong with Shelvin. We didn’t get to say goodbye to him because we decided at the last minute to check out, and his father was the only one around when we left at 11:00 this morning. Although I’d still prefer to die and am ready to do so, we came here so we could go online, since it’s not New Year’s Day, our agreed deadline (unless he gets fired first).

The owners are from India and seem nice. We saw a room with a kitchenette, but it’s $250 for a week, so we settled for one with just a refrigerator and a microwave. Although the room is barely 300 square feet, it’s got two beds, internet access, and is much cleaner and less rundown than the Arab’s dive. He lied too, in saying he was the cheapest in town, just like his saying it takes years to get a house is ridiculous. You’d have to make way less than minimum wage for it to take 4 years to save for a house. I think he just enjoys deflating people’s bubbles. Or at least thinking he is. This isn’t to say we won’t ever return to his motel, but it doesn’t look like we will. However, if I have trouble sleeping here, we will.

Anyway, it seems like it’s going to be as dead as the Arab dive, though those fucking scumbags are going to be invading this place too, so we learned. Part of the reason I came up here was to get away from the damn things and it’s like they’re following me! None of what we came here for is happening – no country living, no building of homes, and soon there’ll be no escaping the fucking scumbags! It’s nice that they’ll only be here a few weeks, but where do we go to get away from them while they’re here? Even Tom doesn’t want to stick around and deal with them. They won’t have any more respect for people in this place anymore than those given free houses have any respect for those around them there. They’re scum. Total scum.

So far we’ve been lucky enough to escape anyone being on either side of us, though it’s still early on a Saturday night, so we’ll see. Last we knew, though, there were just 4 other occupied rooms. I feel like I’m back in Phoenix, though, waiting for 10:00 to roll around so I’ll feel “safe.” Safe from potential rude, noisy neighbors.

They have complimentary coffee between 6:00 - 9:00, but I won’t be up then. I better not be, anyway. I asked that they not come around to clean till after 1:00. We’ll see how well they listen.

The pros are that the beds are even softer and the microwave’s bigger with a digital clock on it that I can see in the dark. Because the drapes are darker and thicker, it’s not as bright at night. The room also has better lighting. It’ll make nighttime reading easier.

The negs are the large gap under the door, the $25 fee we had to pay to have Blondie in here, the carpet’s so flat it’s rock-hard, and there’s no nightstand. It’s not a long reach to the floor, though, because these beds are lower. Blondie can get up on them easily.

We got it on earlier and I was surprised to be able to take him as easily as I did. I thought it’d be a few more times before I could. Not that I’m sorry he didn’t cum, but I wonder – with all the guys who don’t want kids out there, how is it that so many of them so boldly cum in women? Do they just think that if they don’t want to make a baby they won’t? What is it, I wonder, that makes most guys get off? And I still wonder, and no doubt always will, what makes Tom not get off? Is it really fear of pregnancy? Because it just doesn’t quite feel good enough like that literature mentioned that Helen gave me? Or is it something else? Something like me not being attractive enough or what?

Speaking of the literature, I wonder how they help those like Tom who want help. The literature said not to hesitate to seek therapy since it’s not something that usually improves on its own, but what “therapy” do they provide? The literature describes it as feeling good enough to get hard, but not quite good enough to get off. How do they fix this, though? By telling the guy over and over again that yes, it really does feel good, till he’s convinced enough to cum? Brainwashing seems so unlikely, so I’d assume they give them drugs of some kind. Well, I definitely don’t want him drugged up any more than I’d like to see him cum these days.

I forgot to mention that the night before last, we had people on both sides of us, yet neither woke me up. It’s amazing how much better I’ve been sleeping in the city than on that deserted mountain! Guess something really didn’t want us there, even though it seems reasonable enough to blame it on being able to feel his movements and the lack of heat. Would I sleep better in a house or cabin up there? Well, we’ll never know, thanks to that controlling, heartless evil bastard in the sky.

Tom and I were talking last night and he says he thinks the best thing for us to do is to just do things without a goal intended in the end. In other words, just buy incense because you like it, not because you want to try to ultimately sell it. Well, once I got into my thirties I learned - and each passing year has confirmed this - that if it’s what I want, I can’t have it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a far-out goal/dream or a simple, ordinary one. If it’s what Jodi S wants, she can’t have it, and this is why I’m ready to die. I don’t want to live another 40-50 years as a puppet controlled by this unseen puppeteer. I know most people don’t get what they want in life, but what makes me different is that I’m not willing to accept that and settle all my life.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2004
Sure enough, the people with the kid 4 doors down are still here. At first, however, they were shut up in their room, but now I can hear them hanging around their truck. The question is, are they even going to go anywhere today?

I got cups and toilet paper from Mr. Arab. Yup, definitely not friendly. He barely nodded when I thanked him for the stuff. I don’t know if he’s like that with everyone or if it’s because I’m Jewish, but I don’t care so long as he doesn’t tangle with me.

Actually, I think I hear them leaving right now. I hope they don’t come back till after dark.

Later…

Another shitty day in the lives of Tom and Jodi S. Not only did Tom’s card get eaten up by the ATM, and not only did we get a losing lottery ticket, but I thought I was going to make us a little money for a minute there. I’m sick of being teased with money and not being allowed to make any!

I spoke to both the kid and his dad and they said they were expecting 100 guests from Fresno on the 26th. When I asked if they wanted a housekeeper so long as it could be in the afternoon and under the table, they said yes, in a couple of weeks. So here I was all psyched up just to learn that the “100 guests” are really Mexicans who migrate from farm to farm. They’re being brought up by buses to pick strawberries. It’s like damn those fucking assholes! Damn them to hell! I could’ve made a bit of money for the 3 weeks they’re going to be here, but there’s no way I or even Tom want to stick around and deal with their shit. So, we plan to be out of here on the 25th. I don’t know if we’ll find a place this quiet, but wherever we go will certainly be quieter than it’s going to be here. Since motels are going to be our destiny for some time to come, unless Tom decides he’s as fed up with this world as I am, we can always return after the scumbags leave.

It all began when I heard some guy staying here ask Mr. Arab if he needed help with their remodeling task. I went out shortly afterward and asked him about housekeeping. That was when he explained the so-called guests and the stacks of mattresses on the strip across the way and showed me the room next to us. It’s much nicer than this one. It’s got a separate bedroom like the Townhouse had, only they never lock it up. You rent the whole thing, though this room is separate from the main room.

His son commented on how wonderful it smells every time he walks by the door, and I was like oh-oh, but he said it was no problem. Somehow, I get the feeling they know about the rat too, but oh well.

The kid said he was from Sacramento and asked how Arizona was. Hot, dry, open and loud, I told him. He also said he too, is a night person and offered to take out the light by this room after I commented on the rooms being too lit up at night, but he never did. Maybe Daddy stopped him.

Later…

Still don’t know what’s going on for sure or for how long, and the not knowing is incredibly stressful! I wish I could tell myself, well, if something’s trapped you in the city, it must be for a reason. Maybe there’s some lonely soul out there who needs you.

But I don’t see why I should be designated to be anyone’s source of entertainment. I’m not a people person, I don’t like people, and I don’t want to live with them, period. To be harassed by who? Blacks and Mexicans? To meet who? The woman that was never meant to be?

However, I swore that if I got trapped in the city yet again, regardless of how small a city it may be compared to Phoenix, I’d stay there. I’m sick of moving around, so wherever we end up, that’s where we stay. I’m not going to be the one to run from troublesome neighbors this time around. This time they can do the running and they will, too. No more God protecting the perps. Not even He can save them, trust me. Because I WILL fight back!

Meanwhile, we got someone next to us in the room Mr. Arab showed us. Question is, did he put them there to spite me since he knows I prefer my solitude? Or was that the only large room available? At least they came in fairly quietly, either way, but I don’t know if they’ll get me up along with them. It wouldn’t surprise me if they did. Most people get up earlier than I do and they love to slam doors. Because they seemed to shower and crash early, I’m hoping they’ll leave early and not come back. Better yet, if they could sit still and not leave till I got up, that’d be nice. Their door is right behind my head, just about, and their car’s right out front. Tom has the courtesy to shut doors as quietly as he can, but like the pizza lady said – people just don’t care. If anything, they WANT to disrupt others. I’m also hoping they’re only there for one night because that room’s more expensive. I’m really surprised the people with the kid never returned. I thought for sure they’d gotten more than one night because checkout time’s 11:00 and they didn’t leave till noon. Maybe they figured no one would care if they were a little late in leaving.

The spiders in here sure can get annoying. Between this motel and the last one, I’ve found and killed half a dozen spiders. At least they were all small.

Tom’s going to see if work will let him do God’s favorite pastime for him and play truck fix-it in their parking lot over the weekend. He got another universal joint and hopes to cure the biggest problem it’s got with this. If not, he’ll have to scrounge through a junkyard for a whole new driveshaft.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2004
Miraculously, I haven’t fallen off schedule yet, even though I slept late yesterday. I guess if something’s keeping me on schedule, then I must need to be. Yeah, no doubt so I can play motel/apartment indefinitely. I had asked Mr. Arab if we could rent on a monthly basis if we needed to, and he said he couldn’t do that. Up to a week is as far as he’s allowed to go, and he has to move us around each week, too. Damn, it’s just like being back in jail again! Only instead of changing cells, we’re changing rooms, and instead of trying to dodge roommates, we’re trying to dodge neighbors.

The kid’s nice, but this dude’s weird. He has this fixed expression that he’s probably not even aware of where his brows are fixed in a curious frown as if he’s never seen another human being before or he thinks they’re all weird as hell.

I’m sad not just because of the big dreams that have gone down the toilet, like having a mortgage-free home, but the little things as well that I’ll miss out on, like the type of cabinets I was supposed to pick out, the handles for them, the color and type of tubs and toilets, the carpet, the doors, etc. Tom’s dream to build a house became my dream as well. Oh, I’m just going to cry all over again, so I’ll write later.

Later…

The rat’s now in with us full-time, I’m glad to say. I have his cage in the bathroom. Because Tom’s sleeping on the floor, I have him shut up in the bathroom. Before I go to bed, I’ll shut him in his cage, and then Tom can open his door before he leaves, though I expect he’ll sleep most of the day. This rat has become more dog/cat-like than any other rat. As long as there’s nothing he could damage or that could harm him, he can be left to run loose pretty much all the time. It’s so funny how he comes charging at me when he hears paper or plastic rustling, thinking it’s food, and how he stands up on his hind legs by the side of the bed to be picked up, and how he takes food out of his cage and under the bed to eat it there. I don’t get the impression that the kid who works here whom we first met vacuums under beds regularly, but when he does, I think he’ll be in for quite a strange surprise.

I saw him today as he was cleaning rooms in the strip in front of us. He asked if the music he was playing was too loud, but personally, I never heard it till I approached him for clean towels.

We got someone a few doors down that I could do without because they spend so much time outside. It’s a couple with a young boy and the boy sits outside by the open door (they’re going to have a lot of bugs in their room tonight) while the parents keep going in and out of their truck. It’s mild compared to door slamming, bass thumping, and basketball games, but I’d still like to see them check out tomorrow. I doubt they will, though.

We got a couple of scratch tickets today, but neither of them won. I’m sorry I’m not psychic enough to rig them, but it gives me a bit of relief about the bad Thursday vibe I’ve been having. It gives me hope of being wrong since I’ve been wrong a lot lately. I don’t know, though. Bad things have a way of happening to us so much of the time anyway that it really doesn’t matter.

I felt so run down and yucky that I jogged in place earlier. I just can’t give up exercising. It makes me feel too good. I like being fit and strong and in good shape. It may not cause me to lose weight with all I eat, but I like the way it makes me feel. Besides, if I don’t at least do ab crunches, my back goes on the fritz.

When Tom got home, we treated ourselves to a much-needed, much-deserved dinner at nearby Mollie’s restaurant. He got a hot dog and fries and I got a seafood platter. It was nice to have something wholesome and filling, rather than the same old, non-filling chips and junk like that I’ve been having.

I know I should work on my story, but I don’t think I could concentrate just yet. I’ve been going back and forth between crying spells and periods of trancelike calm.

I asked myself, well, if we can’t build a house and if I can’t buy any more dolls or things like that because we either don’t have the money or I fear having to pack them away for God knows how long or lose them altogether, then what’s left? What’s left in life to look forward to? I guess the answer to that is singing, listening to music, reading, writing and similar things. Besides, I can still get things like incense and perfume when there’s money for it because those are things you use up. You don’t keep them around as decorations.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2004
Another day of depression and struggle. Tom’s curious to see the outcome of this current mess we’re in, but I’m done with being curious, hopeful or anything. I’m ready to die. Why wait for things to get worse, for me to get older, fatter, etc.? Our biggest fear right now is him being fired. I guess this place tends to fire people within the first few months. If he’s still there in October when the benefits start, then maybe there will be hope of him staying there. Until then, he’s rather vulnerable. Aren’t we always vulnerable to other people, though? Isn’t our fate usually in their hands? Like I said, if life can’t be what we want it to be and we’re only going to have a few scattered bursts of success and happiness, I’m more than willing to check on out of this world. We didn’t come here to live like bums. The plan wasn’t to go bumming it in motels or apartments. We were supposed to build a mortgage-free home. But this can never happen as long as God’s so determined to curse our vehicles and set us back. It’s like, hasn’t He got anything better to do than pick on Tom and Jodi S? What is His obsession with us and what did we ever do to anyone to deserve this shit? I wish He’d pick on his mother for once as in killing her. There are people that could really benefit from her death yet she’s just sitting around hogging up space all damn day and night. Instead of painting pictures and arranging flowers, she should drop dead and get us out of this mess. Then again, so what if we could get out of it right now? It’d only be a matter of time before God would kick us back down again.

What’s God going to curse us with this Thursday, I wonder? I’ve been having bad vibes pertaining to Thursday. I assume it’s over the truck. It always is these days. If we have no well or roof for Him to curse, He’ll just keep going after the truck. On the bright side, I’ve been a lousy psychic since coming here, so maybe, just maybe, Thursday won’t be any worse than usual. If it turns out that I’m right, I’m certainly going to have conflicting emotions about having my abilities rekindled.

We discussed various ways to kill ourselves, but haven’t come up with a sure plan yet. We’re afraid that if we go to the land and run the hose into the RV from the truck it may only put us to sleep and not kill us. Shooting ourselves seems unlikely too, because that’d mean one would have to see the other blow their brains out. Dodging in front of vehicles may only leave us wounded. That leaves possibly hanging or starving ourselves. Another problem is that Tom doesn’t want to go belly-up just yet. I wish he was as ready to exit this sorry world as I am. Maybe after another few weeks or a few months of this shit, he will. I know we’ll be incredibly fucked if they do fire him. Then I think we’d have no choice but to go. I try to console myself by telling myself that God doesn’t hate us enough to do that to us at this time, but how can I be sure of that? No one who’s led the life I’ve led can say they’re blessed. The only way I’ve been truly blessed is by meeting Tom. Other than that, nothing up there likes me or has any desire to cut me any breaks in life, let alone bless me like a little queen.

The only good thing I can say right now is that this motel is incredibly quiet. It’s totally unbelievable! It’s basically because the place is mostly deserted. There are only 5 rooms on the strip across from us that are occupied, and just a couple of others on this side. No one’s been in the rooms next to us yet. The only thing that bugs me a little is that the owner, who I met and spoke with today, may be Arab. They don’t seem to have any more Jews here than they did in Arizona. Tom didn’t notice any synagogues in the phonebook. Oh well. At least there are hardly any blacks. That’s more important to me than the number of us Jews. Anyway, the guy told me nothing I wanted to hear when I mentioned we’d come from Arizona and were hoping to rent a house. He was saying there are people that have been here for 4 years that are trying to rent houses, and that it’s very hard because they want so much money and they do credit checks. Tom said, though, that that’s ridiculous because the more of a down payment you’re willing to make, the less they care about credit, and it wouldn’t take years. This is when he suggested we tough out a studio apartment for a few months to get into a house quicker, but I don’t know. I just don’t know. I didn’t come here for this shit! We weren’t supposed to do motels, studios, apartments, rentals and shit like that!

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2004
We’ve left the Townhouse motel and are now at the Klamath Travel Inn. It’s way quieter. No door-slamming, no stereos, etc., as we’re outside the city. The only sounds are vehicles whizzing by the highway, plus a nearby train. The rooms are all on one floor. At first we got a room that stunk and was filthy, so the guy moved us. The room we’re in doesn’t smell, but it’s dumpier than the other place. They’re small, yet the bathroom’s spacious. The shower is too low for anyone over 5’ tall, though Tom didn’t mind. Despite its dumpiness, broken soda machine and dumpy community kitchen/laundry, the bed is softer. It’s got a microwave and a small refrigerator, though I don’t expect we’ll use the refrigerator. It also has a little desk. This place also seems to be privately owned (though the Townhouse might’ve been, too), and I told the guy not to bother knocking on the door because I sleep late and that I’ll go to him when I need something. I don’t know if we’re going to stay here after the couple of days we paid for are up. We’ll see. I guess it’ll depend on that damn truck.

We let Blondie run around, as usual, and tomorrow he may be in here all the time, assuming the truck lets Tom get the wire cage. For now, I just give him a quick bath when I take him in to get the stink off of him. There was a sign in the office about a $5 pet deposit, but we’ll just play dumb and say we didn’t notice the sign if they catch him in here. I’ll put the cage out of view, like in the bathroom, so that if he comes to the door with something I may ask for, he won’t see him.

I decided that if we’re ignored by his mother for another month after updating her on our horrible situation, that’s it, we’re done with her. There’ll be no more letters or anything. In fact, I’m going to be sure to write something in the next letter like how I never resented those who have what I don’t, but it’s unfair to know that some people have thousands or millions without lifting a finger for it while we bust our tails for so little. Maybe then she’ll put two and two together and be a bit more generous, though I seriously doubt it. Why should she when she gets to go play in daycare all day, then goes home to be pampered by her daughter? All she’s known for the last God knows how many years is being waited on hand and foot.

There is some good news in the midst of all this shit and that’s that I might be back on the ticket-rigging spells again. The last 3 tickets won $4, $20, and then $3. If only I could win us a grand! That’s what it’ll take to get into a rental because we absolutely don’t want to sign a lease.

I can’t believe there are only about half a dozen other people here! I hope no one ends up next to us. People don’t just love to slam doors, but they slam walls, too. That’s what it sounds like anyway.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2004
Another day filled with struggle, uncertainty and conflicting emotions. Tom doesn’t want to die, but I’m ready. However, I can’t die and leave him feeling deserted. It’d have to be something we both did together if we’re going to do it at all. I’m just ready to go because I’m sick of feeling like a little marionette with an unseen puppeteer guiding me wherever it wants me to go, which is almost always places I don’t want to be. Like motels! I’m still surviving, but every single morning they wake me up with the door-slamming. I sleep through traffic noise, but not those fucking doors everyone thinks they have to slam in order to shut.

I got up at 11:00 this morning and found they let us stay another day. Tomorrow though, whether or not they’ve got an opening, we’re going to do something we shouldn’t be having to do and that’s going motel sampling and comparing. He’s going to get me up with coffee at 10:15, leaving us 45 minutes to gather up our stuff and get out. Then we’re going to a place that says their weekly rates are $175 and they have DSL hookups, plus microwaves. A microwave would be great for popcorn and hot drinks. I just hope they have a desk to put this damn laptop on and that it’s not any noisier than this place is. Asking for quieter would be asking for a miracle, so I’ll settle for it being comparable to this place, which is $32 a night for nothing. I mean, the water’s hot, and the room’s not too small, but without anything else, it’s a bit much to pay. The more we save, the faster we get into a house somewhere. I just hope to hell we get in a house and not an apartment! I don’t care anymore about neighbors being just a few feet away and their antics. We can deal with them afterward. For now, I just want out of motels where people are adjacent to us! I want a place to set up the desktops, my stereo, etc., and I want to stay there forever.

But I know better. We’ll be rental-hopping like crazy, no doubt, as we face one nightmare of a neighbor after another that God protects and makes sure we can’t fight back against.

The truck is going to fall apart any minute. The question is, can it wait till after we have the money to fix it? Somehow, I doubt it. Life just isn’t that good and considerate to us. It’ll probably be weeks before we can make it back to the land. Right now it’s just too risky with the truck clanking along. I’m sure it’ll be after the plants have had plenty of time to die so I can add two more losses to my ever-growing list.

One thing I wonder, though, is if that couple was telling the truth about someone complaining about us. Why haven’t we heard about it then? Tom thinks it could be because the person complains so damn much that they’re sick of dealing with it. That’s what happened with us in Phoenix. Not that our complaints weren’t legit, but the city got sick of hearing it and so they turned on us, citing us for this, citing us for that. Besides, the white man simply didn’t rule down there.

We stopped at storage today and pulled out some things to pawn and sell once we find the best place to take the shit to if the truck will let us get there. We pulled things like power tools, the guitar, and some CDs. Shit we shouldn’t be having to do at our ages, but like I said, I’m coming to see and accept more and more that like it or not, we were destined to struggle financially, and we always will. There’s nothing we can do to change that, period. No amount of hard work, no winning lottery ticket, no nothing, is going to change what’s fated to be in that department. Whatever’s up there simply does not want us to have money. If you can’t pay for the things you need half of the time, you know you’ll never really have money for extras. All I’m going to get from time to time is incense. I’m sick of being teased with wanting dolls and other things, so I’m simply going to forget about it. I’m just sick of this up-and-down rollercoaster we’ve been on. If we can’t stay up, then I’m ready to just stay down at this point.

We may transfer the rat, who had his final run of this room earlier, to the small wire cage. He’s in a glass tank now. The tank keeps his stinkiness in and makes him stink more. With it being just him, he can go in the wire cage where he can climb a bit and we don’t have to worry about him getting out, not that he’d go far or do much damage. With as much freedom as we give him, he shouldn’t feel too cooped up in the wire cage, even though it’s a bit smaller than the tank. He’s getting older now and is losing his spunk anyway, I’m sad to say. I feel so bad for him. I mean, I know he’s just a rat, but I hate to see him subjected to all this moving around we’re so fated to do.

I’m still taking antihistamines to sleep at night, but there is one thing that’s miraculously changed. Despite the fact that God just won’t let me sleep straight through without the interruptions, I’ve been getting up without alarms. Tomorrow, though, he’ll have to wake me up because I usually don’t get up till between 11:00 and noon. But when am I going to have the luxury and the freedom of not having to take anything to fall asleep, and to let my schedule be whatever it’s going to be?

Got a Bob letter. He’s had trouble breathing, and he got some of the excerpts I sent him covering the trip. They were first delivered to another floor in the prison before they got to him.

We went to the Chinese place. The usual crew was there. The last time we were waited on by this unfriendly waitress we’d never seen before whom we only left a buck for instead of the usual two bucks.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2004
It wasn’t as noisy as I thought it would be being a Friday night and all. Just the usual door-slamming in the morning, then in the late afternoon. If the owner doesn’t have any cancellations, we’ll be in a strip motel tomorrow, assuming they have any vacancies. Saturdays are always the busiest. I’m hoping against hope that it’ll be even quieter with the way they’re laid out, but I doubt it. God will make sure I get woken up no matter what.

Today’s the first day I didn’t bawl my eyes out, though I’m still filled with the usual slew of emotions. I just hope it doesn’t take too long to rent a house! It’ll depend on how many of them want credit checks. What makes it hard is knowing the neighbor curse is still there and that as long as it can be applied to me, it will. I know whoever’s closest to us will have loud stereos, I know they’ll have dogs, and I know they’ll have lots of rowdy kids and company going in and out. There’ll always be something going on and always someone home.

We got a letter from the Road Association saying it’ll cost $27 to upkeep the roads by our land, but it won’t be our land much longer so who cares.

I chatted with the housekeeper a bit today and I had her give us fresh towels.

I also saw the lady at the pizza place and got hot wings. Big mistake as they were way spicy! Tomorrow I’ll get my mini mushroom pizza. It’s much more filling anyway.

Anyway, besides changing motels, we’re going to do something tomorrow that we shouldn’t have to do – go through storage for things to either sell or pawn.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2004
The Motels

We are now at the Townhouse motel in KF. We left our land on Tuesday and got this room for 4 nights. Tom just went to bed and so I thought now was a good time to update.

The day before we left, I got a letter from Bob. He did get Angel Eyes. I told him that it’ll be a while, but someday, if I can ever have access to my printer again, I’ll send the short stories he hasn’t read. He told me more about his life there which I had asked him about. He isn’t in PC like I had thought. Most of the people that he’s housed with are also old or have medical problems. There are two dayrooms and even a pool table in one of them, but not surprisingly, the blacks have taken that over, and if you’re not in with them, you don’t play pool. Quoting his words, he’s had to cell with 9 black bastards and a white bastard and is currently in with a gay deaf guy he’s been with for 5 years. I was amazed at just how few roommates he’s had and the moves he’s made over the years. I think I had more cellies in 6 months at the jail than he’s had in over 10 years of his imprisonment. That was part of the curse, though. If I had been a people-person who liked variety, then I wouldn’t have moved so much nor had so many cellies.

The truck is struggling along, but barely, and it’s looking more and more like we’ll be forced to abandon the land and live in the city, just what God wants us to do and what I was always meant to do since I went out on my own, but you know what? I’m staying here! I don’t care how much I hate it. This time I’m staying in the city like I swore I would if I got trapped in it one more time. I’m sick of getting stuck in places I don’t want to be, so I’m just going to stay put. I’m not going to struggle for rural life if it wasn’t meant to be, and I’m so, so tired of losing! Cruel, heartless fate keeps making more and more decisions for me and taking from me. Another thing it’s taken is my plants. By the time we get back to the land, they’ll be dead for sure. It’s like it wants to take literally everything we own from us, the last of our few precious belongings. I realized this like never before that we’re meant to be losers and to struggle till the day we die, but I will not let it get the rest of my stuff like my dolls. Instead, I’m going to be the one to give them up, not wait around till circumstances force me to give them up. This is the third time in less than 5 years that I’ve been forced to do without my stereo, computer, dolls, etc. It’s making me not want to own or have anything ever again. I just want to get rid of everything but my clothes and computers, though even that may be taken away from me at some point, and forget about buying anything in the future. I’ve wanted the dolls on my list for so damn long that I’m sick of wanting them! I’d rather just get incense occasionally that you don’t keep. I’m just too damn sick of losing, so if I don’t have, I can’t lose. It’s easy moving from rental to rental every time the neighbor’s antics get to be too much as opposed to moving to raw land. Also, when the roof leaks, it won’t be our responsibility. When the truck breaks completely, we won’t have to worry about the fact that we’ve got no backup because in the city he could just walk or ride a bike to work if he had to. When the sickos got me tossed in jail, I swore I’d never leave the city if I got stuck in it again, and I mean it! This may be a puny city compared to Phoenix, but if I’m going to be fated to move every few months to a few years, then I want it to be where civilization is so we don’t have to worry about propane, trash, water, electricity, shit tanks, gas, broken vehicles, etc. Sure I’ll miss the peace and quiet, but was it worth having it just to lose it? And we’re getting faster and faster each time we lose something. Look how fast we lost this land. We may not have officially lost it, but we will. I’m sure we’ll need to ditch it to save the extra $135 a month. Spending $30 on storage is pretty insignificant, but when you’re as poor as we are, $135 is a lot. As it is, we’re going to lose what we’ve paid on the land so far, over $200 for the shed, plus the $1500 that the RV cost. The string of losses never seems to end!

I have been so, so depressed. So pissed, so frustrated, so sad. I’m so sick of struggling just to lose, to be reduced to living like a little bum. One thing we did decide for sure is that we will not go back to living in the RV and I will not live in a fucking shed! I’m not a dog and I’m not going to live like one and feel like a dog in a doghouse!

Why, though? Why????? Why are we so fated to struggle and to lose what few things we manage to achieve? Ok, so Maricopa was a dumb move. We were desperate and greedy, trying to achieve too much too soon, but we can’t even have the simplest of things in life! I can’t even have an average house in an average neighborhood where I can hear myself think! If I can’t have the basics in life, what can I have? Like I said, everything that’s happened over the last 5 years makes me not want to have anything. I don’t want to own anything, I don’t want to buy any more dolls, I just want food, books, music and clothes, preferably all the while I have a roof over my head. I don’t care if it’s smaller and older than the Phoenix house as long as we’re not terrorized by our neighbors and forced to know their every move. I don’t care if it doesn’t have a private backyard, a pool, etc. I just don’t want to live in RVs or motels!

Funny thing, because the day before we left the land, we discovered that those people in back strung off their property in preparation for a fence, no doubt planning to build a house because we moved there, but now I see that it doesn’t matter what they do because we won’t be living there. Tom had made the comment about hoping they’d put up their fence before he did so that that’d be one less side he’d have to fence. “You couldn’t get that lucky,” I told him, and now I see more than ever that he’s not meant to put up a fence anywhere any more than I’m meant to generate money.

Like I said, at this point, big and fancy don’t matter anymore. Security matters. Peace of mind and peace and quiet. Just a place where we can put what few things we have left without the constant barking, basketball games, car stereos, and the commotion we had in Phoenix. Tom said that that couldn’t be a problem in this climate, but when you’re cursed when it comes to neighbors, does climate really matter? Besides, it’s not cold year-round here. They do have summers here, even if they’re mild compared to Arizona. Cursed or not, even I’d have to agree that most sane people wouldn’t throw their dogs outside in the dead of winter, nor would they want to be outdoors themselves to carry on like animals. I’d happily settle for just one bedroom.

The foul-odor curse has followed us here. The RV smelled of rotted food for a while, then there was an odd chemical smell I detected as well. Probably propane. Well, trapped in the city we won’t have to worry about propane, but will whatever place we rent end up stinking, too? It makes me wonder.

I’ve spoken to a lady at this pizza place by this motel, who’s a native of KF. She too, hates apartments and thinks they’re all noisy because people simply don’t care, and she too, wouldn’t want to move to a warm climate where there’s more outdoor noise. If we ever went back to a warm climate, that wouldn’t mean we’d want to go to one that got to be 115˚ in the summertime, but to one more like San Diego, and only to a retirement community, though I know we’ll never be able to afford to buy a house in a retirement community. No matter how much we try to save, emergencies come up to steal the money away. Then again, I meant it when I said I didn’t want to own anymore, so scratch that. As a renter, at least if we got evicted or run out of there by spiteful bosses, crazy blacks or evil Mexicans that know we’re living in a time when they can shit on whites, cry racism and be believed, we wouldn’t be giving up anything that was ours. Instead, we’d be losing something that always belonged to someone else.

Anyway, this lady advised us to rent a house. She said there are lots of them and that the rent is comparable to an apartment. I know God will see to it that if we did get a house to rent the neighbor’s dogs would be outside at least during the summer and that they blasted their car stereo, etc., but at least it’d be so easy to up and move as opposed to having to prep and sell a house! Something wants us to keep moving around anyway, so why not? The original plan was to save up for a cabin or a small, used manufactured home while we rented in the city, but nah, I don’t think so. I’m just tired of losing and I know something would only come up to screw us out of our plans. We may have set ourselves up to lose the Maricopa house by biting off more than we could chew, but it doesn’t change the facts. The point is that we still lost and we’re STILL losing. Every time we think we just might finally be picking ourselves up, something happens to kick us back down again. I’m also sick of being teased with dolls and little treats like that I can only want, but never seem to have, and being kicked off the net by circumstances. We won’t be able to get online till we’re in someplace, so once again I’m losing out on Webshots. I could always go to a library and to their site, but I couldn’t download any of the daily pictures. I try to tell myself I’ve already got a zillion pictures, but that’s not the point. The whole point is that once again, I’m forced to give up, to lose, to be controlled, and it’s just so fucking frustrating! I feel so damn defeated. We’re 38 and 47 and we’re homeless in a foreign state. That’s infuriating. He works his ass off at the bank and now this place. I work my ass off on my stories, and this is what we get for it? Thanks, God, thanks a lot!

I have so many conflicting emotions. A part of me wants to take whatever I can get whenever I can get it and for however long people/God will let me have it, while another part of me wants to die, and another part wants to give up what I have and never get anything new that isn’t a necessity. I mean, it’d be so simple not to have anything other than computers and books, but do I really want to live that way? Do I have much of a choice? Tom says it was our choice to come into the city and to rent, but is it really? Sure we love taking showers in a real bathroom, having more space and life’s modern conveniences you can find in motels, but would the choice really be ours in the end? He takes home a little over a grand a month. Assuming they don’t fire him or lay him off, which is a serious concern for me after the way we’ve been so damn cursed with one crisis after another, this is how I figure it. About $400 would go to rent, leaving $600 for food, gas, internet service, phone time and storage. That wouldn’t leave us much left over for the land payment, let alone any savings, and that would be even if the truck never broke again, which of course, is an impossibility.

KF sure has a lot of pigs cruising around for a small town, and it bothers me. It really does. Perhaps that is major paranoia on my part, but it sure feels like I’m being taunted. I can’t even walk the two minutes it takes to get to the pizza place or the convenience store without seeing one, let alone driving throughout the whole town! Why are they all over the place like this?

Anyway, while I don’t want friends, I appreciate the woman’s advice, whatever her name is. I don’t know if she owns Stagecoach Pizza or what, but I’ve seen her twice by myself and once with Tom, who was glad to have kept down the pepperoni pizza he got from them. I’ve gotten mushroom pizza twice in a row, but tomorrow I think I’ll try their hot wings and hope they’re not too hot.

Okay, now I’ll describe the motel. For someone who’s had the great misfortune to have to motel it so many damn times, it’s one of the best we’ve been in. It’s cheap and it’s privately owned. It’s very apartment-like. In fact, I think they were apartments that they converted into motel rooms. It’s like being in an apartment with just a bedroom and a bathroom, and no living room or kitchen. Some of the downstairs rooms have kitchenettes, but we’ve just got a room and a bath, and it’s cool because the bath is across a little hallway, away from the room. The shower’s the greatest. Awesome pressure. The tub’s a little steep for lying back in, but I did so anyway. The water gets so hot I can make my instant coffee or tea with it. Although the bathroom has a fan and a heat lamp, I like how it’s also got a window I can crack to let the moisture out. What is it with me and flushing things down the toilet, though? I accidentally dropped part of the toilet paper holder down the toilet when flushing it, but I got a new one by saying there never was one to begin with. With just 16 units and two housekeepers, it wasn’t hard to keep them away. I put a please-do-not-disturb note I wrote out on the door just in case, and it’s worked so far. The room has a loud fan in its AC unit that I like better than the sound machine, but unfortunately, the bed’s too hard, there is some door-slamming, as well as stereos going by a few times each hour. Because Tom’s snoring was really bad (I guess thicker air causes him to snore more), he was sweet enough to sleep on the floor. Besides, after feeling his movements in Gert, as we call the old shit of an RV, I don’t need to feel them here, too.

We let Blondie run around loose in here for a few hours in the evenings, which he enjoys doing. I know that unlike most rats he doesn’t miss having a roommate, but he does love people and he savors his time with us. He alternates between climbing on us and exploring. I know he’s peed, but if he’s done any duties, it’s been done in places I can’t see, like under the dresser.

The only other things I don’t like about this place are that the outside lights are too bright, making the room too light at night, and there’s no desk, so I have to use the laptop in bed. I’m supposedly not going to have to write journals by hand anymore because we’re supposedly going to go from living in motels where we can use the laptop, to a place where we can set up our regular computers, but I won’t believe it till I see it. I know all too good and well how much fate likes to throw kinks in our plans. At least I’m still glad we don’t have a kid to deal with in the midst of all this bullshit, uncertainty, frustration, anger and sorrow, and I’m still glad I never made it as a singer!

Anyway, the worst thing about this place is the fucking door-slamming. Why do people think that in order to shut a door they need to slam it? Do they WANT to annoy others? And of course there are the car stereos that go by. It’s not as bad as in Phoenix, though, because they can’t pull up close to the building, and there’s no corner or stoplight for them to slow down at. They just more or less whiz by. Well, we’ll be out of here on Saturday. The woman’s all booked up, so unless someone cancels we’re going to go to a strip motel with rooms that are all side by side. Here we’re on the second floor. I’ll be damned if I’ll tolerate people over my head on top of all else I’ve had to tolerate if I can help it!

Although it’s very hard, I’m trying my damnedest to look at the positive things we’ve got going for us, even if it isn’t much. The most important thing, as Tom said, is that we’re together. Whatever happens, be it God forcing us to literally give up everything we own, and I mean everything, we’re in this together. There’s certainly no reason not to believe He could/would make us lose it all, too! If we’ve lost all we’ve lost so far, sure He could make us lose more, and why not? It’d only be Tom and Jodi’s stuff, so who cares?

I’ve had periodic crying spells on and off over the last few days. God, I haven’t been this depressed since jail, but I knew I’d have a new long-term problem once the sickos were finally out of our lives. I swear, we solve one problem and just go right into a new one! If I knew we were going to be in a fairly decent house in a fairly decent neighborhood by the 1st, I may feel a little relieved as any bit helps. How different this new long-term problem is from the years of problems we went through on account of the sickos. The sickos may’ve been much worse to have to deal with than being homeless, but at least we knew what was going on where they were concerned. The only surprise was the probation cut.

I still don’t miss Arizona, but God do I miss that house! We had our problems there, but at least we had a home. I know things like a mannequin and $300 for a monthly allowance are just a dream, but that’s ok because I’d be happy just to settle for a house, even if it’s old and small, with neighbors that keep their shit to themselves. The quiet neighbor part of it is just a dream too, but if we can get in a place where the door-slamming doesn’t startle and jolt me out of my skin, that’ll be a start. Anything that stands independently.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2004
After many hours of slavery, Tom’s finally almost done with the truck. Now, if we could just go a week or even two without it crapping out on us, that would be wonderful.

Tom said that if he stays here much longer he’ll go batty and I agree. So we decided to go out tomorrow and find cheap motels that do weekly rentals until we can get into an apartment.

The question is, will we ever own a house again? I feel like a cross between a bum and a drifter. It’s like we’ve been drifting in an air balloon for over a year now, and whenever we think we’re going to land on solid, stable ground, we get swept up again by the wind.

Tom says he thinks part of our problem has been making too many long-term plans and that we should just concentrate on the present. Sounds like good advice, but it’s easier said than done. I just can’t help but wonder where we’re headed in life. Will we really build here? Move to some other place in Oregon? Or will we go to Nevada where there are no zoning laws? Will we go to California? Hawaii? New Zealand? Or will we commit suicide? That’s another thing we discussed, though he thinks we’ll live to be old and I sure as hell hope life could never be that bad, but who knows? Maybe we’ll get just so damn fed up that we’ll run a hose into the RV from either its engine or the truck’s and die in each other’s arms from carbon monoxide poisoning. We wouldn’t bother with notes because we wouldn’t care what happened to our stuff or our bodies. It’s just that if I were dead, no one could fuck with me, nor could I be missing out on dolls I never got or anything I may want and never have. I agree with Tom, though, when he says that if we do kill ourselves, we should wreak some havoc on the way out by torching this mountain. I hate people so much! We both do. It’s like everyone’s our enemy! They all want to butt into our lives and make us miserable! I can totally see why some resort to desperate measures, be it massacres, suicide, whatever.

So, thanks to cruel people and cruel fate and a compassionless God, if there is one at all, I’ll be forced to give up my sleep and my solitude completely. How I’ll miss the peace and quiet here, the serene beauty and the wildlife! Ah, but we both agree we fucked up by coming here. Instead of getting an RV and coming to land we’d already bought, we should’ve picked the town, flown up, shipped our stuff, then rented a place and saved up to buy land. At least it’s been an educational experience as he said.

As much as I’m looking forward to getting out of this shitbox, despite the noise I’ll be in for, I really hope we won’t be forced to abandon the land. I hope we’ll at least be able to do the cabin, but if not, Tom came up with a wonderful story for Michael as to why we’re splitting which involves Bob and which I won’t feel guilty about telling if he really did any complaining on us. However, I’m not going to get into that now.

In other news, you’d never know hunting season began yesterday, I’m glad to say, which Tom learned at work began that day. I don’t miss listening to the constant pops in Maricopa, that’s for sure.

We have neighbors, not surprisingly, from what Tom said. He was walking in the back when he saw a vehicle parked on the lot behind us. He never saw or heard anyone, but he could see a table by the vehicle and smell the bacon and eggs they were cooking for breakfast.

Also, what appeared to be a couple, went down the road in a gray SUV, then back up it. When they got in front of our place, they stopped for a few seconds, then slowly began moving again, as if they contemplated turning into the clearing. What I wonder is, did they come to look at the land, or did they come to look at us?

Meanwhile, Tuesday’s the day we’re going to start staying in motels till we can find an apartment. I just hope it won’t take forever! It’ll depend on just how much whatever’s up there wants me to sit and listen to the door-slamming at the motel, though I’m sure we’ll get that in an apartment, too.

One thing we both agree on is to try to have fun in the midst of all the chaos and never-ending cycle of shit from people and life. I’m not only going to enjoy life’s simple pleasures like a long soak in the tub, despite all the bumps and bangs around me, but we’re going shopping! He hasn’t set up his computer in ages and he’s looking forward to a new wheel to play his favorite car racing game.

As for me – I was hesitant to get any more dolls to have to move or lose, but why should I deprive myself in the meantime? So I’ll take his advice, buy dolls when I can, and not worry about their future fate. Better to at least have them for a while than to never have them at all, I guess, even if it means I could lose a lot of money in the end by having to give them up.

We’re kind of making a game of it too, pretending the Mafia’s after us and we’re going into hiding!

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2004
Thought I’d write while he’s doing what he’s fated to do half the time – battling with the truck. He’s been having trouble getting the transmission out.

Society and fate have thrown yet another change of plans our way. See, that moron and his wife came to “warn” us that a guy who supposedly complains about everyone, reported us to the county for having a gas-powered generator and not a diesel one. Apparently, gas isn’t allowed here. I’m starting to wonder what is allowed. No matter how much we try to isolate ourselves and get away from people, they still fuck with us! There’s just no escape. Why oh why are we so fated to be victims of society and slaves to those with holds on us?????

See, this is why I don’t go for regular check-ups. If I’m going to get some deadly disease, I don’t want to fight it just to prolong all the shit I have to go through in life. Why oh why can’t we ever get ahead in life and why must life be so complicated?

Tom’s still sure we can get out of it and says that there’s no way they can fine us if it doesn’t at all look like someone’s living here which is how we intend to have it appear come Monday. We’re going to take the screen room down and the clothesline so it simply looks like an RV next to a shed, but see, if we’re going to have to be told what to do on our land and made to feel like children, we may as well rent apartments, dump the cursed vehicles, rely on public transportation, and just listen to the damn neighbor’s noise while we get fucked out of yet another dream; to build a house and save up thousands of dollars by not having a mortgage.

And so here’s what we agreed we’d do, with or without people fucking with us. Due to the fact that we didn’t realize just how hard it would be to live out here and how expensive it is, we’re going to rent an apartment for about 6 months without signing a lease. That way, when the neighbor curse gets too rough and I can’t get any sleep at all, let alone hear myself think when they decide to slam doors and blast music, we can get out. As Tom said, we won’t get trapped as long as we don’t get confrontational. That’s another thing right there that really bothers me. How come others can get confrontational with us without getting trapped themselves? Why is it only us who get trapped? I don’t care because either way, I will not let neighbors push me around! Those days are long over. I don’t care who they are, who they know, etc. There’s no fucking way I’m going to take any shit from them. As it is, I know that if God spares us a fine in the end, He’ll at least protect the person who put us through the hassle of having to get out of it. I’m sick of having to answer to this one and having to answer to that one!

The main reason for the apartment is to save money. We’re spending a fortune in gas to use the generator to juice up the RV’s battery. Also, he doesn’t currently have a backup vehicle, so that puts more stress on him, and we’re sick of hauling water and propane up here like crazy and having to dump tanks. I won’t even bother getting into the claustrophobia we both feel. Even if the rent is $400, that’s less than we’re spending to live out here, and I’m starting to think we made another mistake and that we’ll be out of here even quicker than Maricopa. I tell you, something wants us with people and to move around like crazy! The people part is what I dread most. I fear something’s luring me to the city, knowing I’m so fed up with people’s shit and knowing I could snap at the slightest provocation, therefore landing me in prison for life. Something up there does not want us to succeed, to get ahead, to realize and accomplish our goals.

Why does God hate us so? I’m more convinced than ever that if He truly exists, He’s one mean, evil, compassionless bastard! How I hate Him so! Much more than He could ever hate either of us. I mean, I’m still psychic enough to know that while we may succeed with the cabin, we’ll never get to do the dome, and Tom believes me.

The main reason for the apartment, though, is that we didn’t know how hard and expensive it’d be to stay in this shitbox. The gas alone to run the generator to juice up the RV’s battery has been astronomical. Plus, he doesn’t have a backup vehicle and is too new at his job to risk having to call in late or not make it to work at all. The hauling of water and propane is so stressful too, and having to dump tanks. We’ve been going through propane like crazy with the cooler weather. Then there’s also the hassles with the laundry. In the city, we can at least take the bus when the truck craps out on us. Trying to keep up in this shitbox really puts a lot of stress on us.

I really think we made a mistake coming here. Perhaps a bigger mistake than moving to Maricopa, and as I told him, if something wants us in the city, maybe we should go and stay there and sell our cursed truck and rely on public transportation. Maybe we really do belong in the city. We’ll live with the city animals till he’s 55, then maybe – just maybe – we’ll go to a retirement community in a warmer climate. As long as we’re trapped in the city, though, I want it to be a cold climate. Keeps people and dogs indoors more often.

Tom says he thinks we’ll be ok once the cabin’s built which he still thinks will be next summer, but I doubt it. Look how many years we’ve been trying to be “ok” yet we never really are, so why should it happen next summer? Like I said, we’ll never have what we want and we’ll never be safe from the world’s bullshit, so why not just rent places in the city and take buses? Then at least some of the breakage curse would be off of us and we could enjoy all kinds of modern conveniences – water that drains to a sewer, a place to dump trash, the ability to get mail delivered right to our door, and God knows we miss having a real bathroom! One you can actually move around in without having to shower on top of a sink and toilet!

I just dread being woken up every day instead of every few days! I don’t want to go back to doors slamming, dogs barking, people screaming, people knocking on the door constantly, etc. I do NOT want that! If only I could be up from 6 or 7 AM and not crash till 10 or 11 PM. As it is, I’m sleeping from around 2 AM to 10 AM. Sometimes I don’t get up till noon, depending on how many times I get woken up in between. I just dread not being able to nap or go to bed early if I wanted to all because people around us just can’t settle down, sit still and shut up, and I dread having to get up in the morning when THEY say so! I’m sure God will make sure that at least one of the apartments is occupied all day so I can’t even get any peace in the middle of the day either. I know He’s going to stick the noisiest people next to us who are always home. It’s like He wants me to make a career of listening to other people’s noise!

I just hope we can avoid having anyone below us, but especially not above us. It’s noisy enough with people next to you, as I learned in Phoenix. I just dread the idea of someone stomping over our heads and slamming doors and cabinets below us. So much so it’s making me want to kill myself!

Now that I see that the people here are more like they are in Massachusetts than Arizona, I don’t know if that’s good or bad. It’s bad living in a place like Arizona where complaining is considered a mortal sin and they either spite you for it or shoot you, but I also don’t want to be where people complain about your every move!

Anyway, I wouldn’t take literally everything I have to the apartment. Big dolls like Ciara and Chris can stay here.

I’m now thoroughly convinced without a doubt that we’re never going to really be happy and that we’re going to struggle as long as we live. I just hope to hell we can get at least the cabin up next summer (it’ll cost about 3 grand), or else we won’t have the money for a house in San Diego or wherever. Better yet, I’d like to do the cabin and the dome and stay here till he’s at least 55, but I know God will never let us. If it’s what we want, it won’t happen. Instead, we’ll be forced to return to the city and all its chaos.

Why can’t his mom die now when we really need the money?! Instead, she’ll wait till we’re at least somewhat settled and aren’t so desperate.

I’ll just try to look at all the pros to city living when the noise aspect of it makes me want to scream. It’ll be so much more comfortable, I’ll have my stuff set up sooner for at least a while, in case we return to live in this shitbox before the cabin’s up, there’ll be less snow, normal utilities, more space, less traveling time for Tom who won’t have to get up so damn early. I’ll also have more spending money again, if only for a while.

Why can’t we just live in peace and have stability and security? Why are the simplest, most reasonable things so out of reach for us? We came here to save money, yet we’re not. He’s sure, though, that an apartment will save us money even if it’s $400 a month. This is because the savings in gas, propane and other expenses will more than make up for it. We hope to be in one by October 1st. If not, then by the 15th. We hope to be cleared out of storage by November 1st as well.

I’m back up to 127 pounds and I’d say it’s due to lack of exercise. So I’ll inflate my ball in the apartment and exercise till circumstances prevent me from doing so yet again.

There are now at least a dozen yellow jackets trapped.

Later…

What with all that’s been going on, I didn’t know this till now, but the propane ran out last night, he says, and the cold air blowing on him woke him up. I was astonished that something could wake him up that didn’t wake me up, although there’s no vent blowing air on my bed.

I never thought I’d look so forward to moving into an apartment of all places, but you know you’re in rather cramped living quarters when even the idea of the 400-square-foot studio you once had seems like heaven. It isn’t just the lack of space that’s hard to deal with, it’s all the other hassles, too. I’m as excited as I am dreading the apartment. In a way, I hope it’s not peaceful, not that getting a noisy apartment would be a problem. It’s just that it could be easy to get used to the modern conveniences it entails if we were given the privilege of being able to hear ourselves think. At least if there are no washers or dryers available, we won’t be so far from Laundromats.

One of the biggest pros is the $50 of spending money I’ll have every other week, beginning mid-October. Ah, to finally get some of the things I’ve been wanting delivered right to me! I know I’ll still have to fight for them, but it’d still be nice.

The question is, is this some sort of trap by the evil above? Is it luring me into the city, even though it’s more like a small town compared to even Casa Grande, so I’ll be vulnerable and easy prey to assholes? I know the blacks and Mexicans will just have to go next to us if it isn’t storming Mormons or college kids. I don’t expect there’ll be much noise in the way of basketball and outdoor gatherings in this climate, but people still slam doors and play music, even in the winter.

Another question is – if we really have been complained about, are the couple themselves the ones responsible? If so, why would they wait this long and then come to warn us about it? To cover themselves? Whoever it is, God will protect them. In fact, He’ll probably bless them with a multi-thousand-dollar-winning lottery ticket. I’m sure life will practically be handed to them just for picking on Tom and Jodi!

Another neat thing will be that we’ll be less than half an hour from the California border! In fact, he works with a lot of people from there. We’ll probably go to a city closer to the coast if it turns out that rural living simply isn’t meant to be anymore, but I don’t know about San Diego after what Tom told me. I didn’t realize it was even closer to Mexico than Maricopa was, though in a retirement community, it wouldn’t matter as the lazy asses can’t afford to go there. The question is, will we be able to? We may not want to in the end, for California’s government is nearly as bad as Arizona’s. Nevada’s pretty much the only state that forbids the government to butt into their lives. That’s why prostitution and gambling are legal there. The only catch is that rural land is so far from the cities which are the only place to get work.

When I asked Tom where he’d go, he said he may bail out of the country altogether, like maybe to New Zealand. Now that would be quite an adventure, and more shocking than living in lots of states, two of them out west! He said we’d be seen as the invaders if we went to Hawaii like I see the Mexicans as invaders here. Now that ought to be a refreshing change; to be the invader rather than the invaded.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2004
As usual, we’re set back by that fucking truck, and once again it’s interfered with our plans. The good thing is that he got to and from work, but the bad is that we have to shell out more money we’re trying to save for a backup and other things, and he has to lose time to the fucking thing that could be spent on the shed. I swear something not only wants to keep kicking us back, but it wants to keep me out of the shed, too.

I moved the wind chimes out of the screen room that could get damaged if the screen room fell down (it’s been windy). I only left a couple in there. I put a couple on the big juniper by the RV, and the other 3 on the clothesline, along with the yellow jacket trap we got. It’s a trap for them only, since yellow jackets never climb downwards. You put a scent in it that attracts them, and then they climb upwards and into a bright yellow/green tube, too stupid to climb back down to freedom. The thing’s actually quite pretty and adds color to the place along with the wind chimes.

I also moved the plants inside. I just had to squeeze them into the cab area.

I currently have $50 saved up toward the 3 PG dolls I want. I hope to begin the package chase on the 24th, so long as the fucking truck doesn’t end up stealing the money. As it is, I can’t go out till Sunday or Monday.

Starting Tuesday (Monday’s Labor Day), he’ll be working from 7:30-3:30 rather than 6:30-2:30.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2004
We read in bed together last night, something I didn’t expect since it wasn’t Sunday evening.

The dramatic cool-down I told Tom would occur within the first week of September has arrived. He says we’ll see our first snow here in late October, but I say not until mid-November to late December. Just like we have our funny little debates over colors, we have them over the weather where he points out that I’ve never been here before and I remind him that I still know how seasonal climates work. I just hope the winter doesn’t have me missing Arizona. Well, I doubt I’d miss Arizona, but I may miss the warm climate. If only warm climates weren’t so crowded and built up! That’s ok. I still have good reason to believe we’ll one day live in a retirement community in either California or Hawaii, probably California. Definitely not Florida. Not only did a major hurricane hit all of Florida, including those who were inland, but they’ve got another doozy aimed at them! This is the first time in 50 years they had big ones back-to-back like this.

I’d write outside since it’s pleasant in the sun, but my eyes are as sensitive to light as they are night blind.

The rat drives me nuts at night, always begging to be let out. I won’t miss that if I can ever get in the shed which he says will be this weekend (which I doubt), though I’ll hang around and play with him a while before going to the shed for the night. This way I can also make myself tea, coffee or hot chocolate if I want to.

Naturally, I’d prefer to snap my fingers and have the house built, but I’d settle for the cabin in a heartbeat! Oh, how I hope we really are in that at this time next year!

I was on a major book roll last night and wrote 34 pages. It’s in a notebook like the one I do journals in. I’m going to have a ton of typing to do!

I can’t wait till at least January when I hope to order 4 things from Ashton – ornaments, a figurine and two dolls. Sometime in February or March, I plan to begin the mannequin save-up. If we can’t go to San Francisco when I get about $400 saved, I’ll just set it aside till we can and begin saving for other things like large lifelike dolls like Bailey, Joy and Jade. I estimate I’ll begin getting those next summer, but this is all assuming there aren’t any more package problems. I’m not a damn mail carrier and I’m not going to fight to get packages! It’s not my job. It’s PG’s job and that of the PO and mail people, so if they can’t handle it, then I’m most certainly going to get things in person from now on. Although I probably shouldn’t, I’m going to be unusually optimistic and hope the last package problem was just a fluke and that PG has gotten their act together.

Later…

Fuck whatever’s cursing our vehicles! Tom came home all stressed because it was making strange noises and vibrations, and of course, I can’t vent because he can’t handle it.

How are we ever going to get ahead in life? How??? How can we finish the shed if our time and money have to constantly be spent on that fucking piece of shit, let alone build anything else? And how are we ever going to get a back-up?

He says it’s probably a wheel bearing and that it shouldn’t be more than $20 and a couple of hours of work, but we shouldn’t be doing this every fucking week either! Enough is enough!!!

Later…

Now he says it’s not the wheel bearing, but some other part nearby that’s worn out. He said he’s not sure what that part is and that he’ll look it up in the book and grease it up really well to get it to hold out till it can be replaced. I vented about it anyway and he listened. I said I didn’t understand how I could keep colds away, but not keep the truck from crapping out. He said no amount of psychicness can keep parts from wearing out, which is true when I think about it. But enough is still enough and I’d really like to know who/what has put a curse on our vehicles! Things breaking, packages, sex and noise.

Later…

Again we read together before he crashed.

I just hope that fucking truck gets him to work tomorrow. I really do. Then back home as well. I’m fed up with the fucking breakage curse! I know this isn’t normal.

I better hope that bird continues to stay away because I’m obviously not getting in the shed anytime soon.

The next hurricane’s set to hit Florida tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be as ironic as hell if Doe and Art returned to their place after it was over to find their shit in a pile of rubble, broken beyond recognition, except for an old picture of me grinning up at them? After all, they used to destroy my shit whenever they felt like it. Then again, what goes around only comes around to me and never to those who have wronged me. Whatever happens to them and their stuff, I don’t care and I haven’t for years. I just wish they’d stay out of my nightmares. They still haunt my dreams too much of the time!

The only ones I miss are Goldie, Al, Charlotte and Jim. They’re all in their 70s now. Of all the family friends, they’re the only ones who have treated me with respect. If they’ve ever badmouthed me behind my back, I never knew it. They always seemed like very sincere people. There were times I thought of seeing if I could find their addresses and dropping them a line, but figured that’d be pretty pointless. I think they would only resent hearing from me for dumping the family. Remember, no one sides with Jodi, but always with Doe, not that I’d want to influence them to take one side or the other. Besides, Doe and Art hear enough about me as it is through Marge. If they don’t know it already, they’re going to know I’m in Oregon in just a few months.

Who do I miss most? Right now, as much as it shocks me to say this, I’d have to say Charlotte R. I would love to see her and exchange hugs right now if only for a minute. It’s weird. I’m actually shedding tears over missing her, and of course, I’m naturally curious as to how she and Jim are, what they look like these days, etc.

She was always so nice to Andy and me when we’d go to the beach, letting us park in her driveway when my own mother forbade us to go near hers, giving us sodas, and letting us use her bathroom.

Where is Charlotte R right now, I wonder? I know she moved from Boca Raton to Del Ray Beach, but is she still there? Or has she moved someplace closer to Doe and Art? Are they even still friends? Maybe not. They’ve lost other long-term friends. Are she and Jim still healthy? Are they still able to get around independently?

Maybe it would’ve been better if she, Jim, Goldie and Al had been just as bad as the rest of them. Then I wouldn’t miss them any more than I miss my parents, siblings, nieces, aunts, uncles or cousins. They weren’t relatives, so maybe that’s why they were good people.

If Charlotte knew I was crying over her now, she would probably laugh. I mean despite how well she and Jim treated me, I’m sure she never thinks of me.

Another thing I miss is something I seem to be missing a lot lately. Like for the past few years now. That’s my old celebrity pictures that weren’t really “celebrity” pictures in the end. I believe I finally got brave enough to mention them a while back. See, there’s a grain of truth to Angel Eyes. I really did, and still could, if I wanted to, communicate with pictures of people so long as they were making eye contact with the camera, but it’s not literally the person in the picture. In other words, it wasn’t Gloria, Linda or Kate in the pictures I’d converse with, but other entities. I don’t know who they were, though. Spirits of the dead? Creations of my powers? The actual people portrayed in the pictures – Gloria, Linda, Kate – were merely the hosts for whatever, or whoever, the entities were. This was/is my biggest, most sure ability. Meaning, I’d never find that one day that I couldn’t do it, as I’d sometimes be wrong in making predictions. As I said, I have no idea who the pictures “became,” but always assumed it was my powers that materialized them, more or less.

Why was I given such an ability? Well, my guess is what I mentioned in my book – to give me a “helping hand” during a rough childhood.

The first time was when I was 9 or 10. I was sitting listening to music down in the cellar with my open scrapbook before me. These days my idols were just Kate and Linda since I had yet to learn of Gloria. I got the distinct feeling that a picture of Kate in particular could see me. I remember asking, “Can you hear me?” and I got a response, though it was in the form of telepathy. Never did the faces in the pictures appear to move, change or make sounds in any way.

For years I questioned my sanity on this issue. Could an otherwise rational, logical person delude themselves into believing a picture could see, hear and understand them? Or could it be that they really truly actually did?

As sure as some people are that God exists, even though they’ve never seen Him, I was sure that yes, I really did indeed communicate with these pictures. I just know it as I know the sun will rise in the morning. I don’t believe it, I don’t think it, I KNOW it. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that that was the one area in life where I was completely out of touch with reality, I knew it was for real. It was all as real as the words I write. I know most of the small handful of people I dared share this secret with thought I was insane, but no matter how hard I tried to agree with them, I knew those pictures I had “brought to life” were every bit as real as the sun, moon and stars. In a sense, Maricopa was the real proof of their existence. When I saw myself go from mostly vague predictions to such detailed ones, well that really killed any doubts I may’ve had. If I could predict the year and color of the trucks, the well crisis, keep colds away, make people sick that pissed me off, rig lottery tickets, predict flat tires and so much more, then why couldn’t I have communicated with the pictures?

I am so very sorry I ditched those Doe didn’t get to first. I totally regret it. I feel totally certain that if I had left them stored in a box all these years and took them out now, they’d remember me. I don’t know if they could ever smell, taste or feel, but I’m sure they’d still be able to “talk” to me telepathically, and hear and understand me when I spoke to them. I would think that they’d be proud of me and happy for the way my life has turned out, despite its breakage and package curses. I often picture them hanging on these old doors and cabinets, keeping me company while he’s at work, listening to me speak with no discriminations or discomforts, for they were like pets; they accepted me as I was.

So, tonight is definitely a night of loss and missing people. People of human form and not-so-human form. Forms I and others may never truly comprehend, yet know with all their heart and soul truly did exist and were every bit as real as we are.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2004
I decided to deflate my exercise ball after all, since it’s either too hot, too much of a pain to make room for it, or I’m too tired to use it. If I climb back to the 130s, then I’ll blow it back up. For now, I’m just going to concentrate on my arms and abs. I’m just sick of the exercise interference. First, it’s the move to Maricopa, then the sickos, and now this.

I slept better last night than I have in a few days, though I still woke up a few times. I wasn’t cold, though, and I fell right back asleep.

The weather was nice today and yesterday, cool and partly cloudy.

I asked them about the change in Angel incense and if they got the pictures, and Bob said he liked the pictures and that he noticed a change in the Angel oil color, though he always gets it from the same source.

Tom told me more about his co-workers. He learned why the mean-looking chick he works with was in jail. Her husband broke her nose and she stabbed him for it. Fortunately, he went down for years, but she had to do 30 days. No matter how much they say you have a right to defend yourself, and no matter how obvious a case may point to self-defense, you still do time for it. That’s just our fucked up system for you. Me personally, I’d rather fight back and do the 30 days. You never know, I could be saving my life, not just from being beat up. I couldn’t just stand there and let them do whatever they chose to do to me and risk my life just to stay out of jail. Especially if I knew I’d only do 30 days, and assault rarely is more than a handful of days as they don’t put much stock in violent crimes as they do sexual/premeditated crimes. Anyway, he’s due to get out of prison soon and wants to get back together with her. What was funny was how she said, “Nah, I’ll only end up stabbing him again.”

Another story he told me pertains to that so-called young radical. Apparently, he was kicked out of school and institutionalized, though not for the reasons I was. After a couple of outcasts shot up the popular, athletic students in Colorado 5 years ago before killing themselves, schools have naturally become paranoid. So when they caught Mr. Rad carrying a knife to school, they started making him fill out these little mood slips to try to assess his mood, etc. Well, I guess he got pretty fed up with all the analytical treatment and so they gave him the boot.

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Last updated July 17, 2024