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Tuesday, December 29, 2015

A Living Magazine - Day 190 - Homecoming - Desperate Times Call For Reliable Friends

The rain had stopped. The tarp/fly was still very wet, with the large drops I'd come to expect rolling down its sides. 

I was tired, fatigued, nearing depression. No human being should have to live like this! We didn't conquer onrushing sabre toothed animals on the plains of Africa, withstood thousands of years of ice ages, fought each other in innumerable archaic wars, instituted and then abandoned slavery, spent hundreds of years in damp, cold, mold-infested castles, suffered from every disease and affliction that nature could throw at us just to sleep in dingy damp woods. We had space shuttles, thermonuclear weapons, complex economies, intense civil structures, iPhones and the internet. What the hell was I doing plugging napkins into the corners of a leaky tent?!

The thought didn't last long, but it made its appearance on the lonely stage of my mind long enough to push home the point: things MUST change. Not just for me, personally - as I have chosen to experience the very bottom scrapings of the shit-pool of modern society - but AS A WORLD. What the fuck were we doing? 

Middle class American people were busy and distracted by the seemingly-desperate, but everyday, concerns of binding a household together, paying bills, keeping their credit ratings up, learning about the latest gluten-free, oat bran, raw foods, Atkins, antioxidant, antidepressant, restless leg syndrome bullshit. Meanwhile one seventh of the human earthy population was going to bed with no meal in their stomachs, every single day--with over half of those being little children who have no say in world politics, military interventions, medical denial because of income level, or influence over the distribution of food from the fattest, whitest, richest nations on earth.

Such were my paltry, petty, shallow thoughts on this morning. Even *I* lived better with my unwashed body, constant hunger, leaky tent, saggy mildewed backpack, smelly sleeping bag, and detested lifestyle than any given eight hundred, so-called "third world" people each day. 

I was loved, remembered, cared about, funded by wonderful, thinking, enlightened patrons. As miserable and inhuman as I found my circumstances, they were nothing compared to the hellish torment that over 15% of the world's people endured. Why should I expect comfort while these people languished in extreme and inescapable poverty and unmitigated depression? There was no reason. There IS no reason.  Reason and logic are a luxury that white Americans can toss around like a volleyball on the their shining beach of unlimited opportunity.

We privileged-few folks on a planet infested by militaristic and industrial exploitation haven't the foggiest clue of what our relative comfort - even my DIScomfort - foists upon the rest of humanity. 

We expect it will be served to us on a shiny platter each day, grumbling, bitching and squirming like spoiled children when it isn't provided exactly as WalMart for the "poor", and Saks for the "rich", said it will be. 

We should be ashamed. But, instead, we are simply ASLEEP; pampered and coddled by a paternalistic, infantilizing, self-appointed leadership doling out SSRI's, alcohol, tobacco, red meat and TV to satisfy our lazy, ignorant and greedy needs. All the while, their own greasy chin stains betray the marrow-sucking of life out of everything natural, wholesome, healthy and pure that can be bought or stolen. 

I got up, knowing that on this day I had to get a room, one way or the other. I had a great Journey still to come, and I had to bury away my empathy for the most desperate of humanity, that I might go a few inches further, and - if I didn't lose myself in my own eventual success - trumpet their cause.

I'd found a better and easier way out of the woods, but it passed by this...


This is what an irresponsible and idiotic camper leaves behind.
It has been here for probably six months.


When I got to Starbucks I learned that my dear friend, and very active supporter, Joyce, had mentioned to one of the motels she called a couple days before, that she had a friend who had an expired ID, but was a journalist who might need a room.

She let me know that one of the places she called, Budget Host Inn, would accept this unkempt friend. This was not just music to my ears, it was a hanging vine with which to swing from the cliffside of my last Journey to the shores of my final Homecoming Journey. I - seeing brilliance before me - immediately asked her to be my Personal Manager, which she, with her naturally high intelligence, friendliness and ability to charm the Washington (ponytail and all) off a silver quarter, could easily handle, graciously agreed to. 

She then called them back and said I was in town and would be stopping by. The owner of the place, one, Chinu Patel, warmed to her graces and said that I would be more than welcome there.

I worked to post another blog entry while at Starbucks and then walked back to my two week old campsite to gather up the tent. I hiked only about a quarter mile away to the Budget Host Inn, paying for the first night with the funds I had scrimped and saved, and holding onto enough for a second night, should this work out...


The doorway to my refuge.



It was a nice room, with a king sized bed, microwave, fridge, clean bathroom and a closet to hang and dry my tent, tarps and bags.

I hung around outside for a few minutes and saw this guy on the wall...


This, my friends is the classic roach--of motel fame.
HOWEVER, there were none of his brothers and sisters in the room,
nor have I seen any since (and I write this post from two days in the future).


I took a long shower, walked to the Dollar Tree to pick up some dinner (meatballs, mashed potato, a frozen cheeseburger and some juice), then microwaved the lot (except for the juice--duh!), and ate as I settled into the first dry place that I was able to spend the night in, in many days--thankful to Joyce, all of my other supporters, readers and friends.

It was a little bit after 11:00 pm when I turned in.

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Dear Iwallkers, I would like to sponsor Alex's Iwallk project with an offer of a discount for a product I carry call Cold Bee Gone. You can read more about it by clicking this ad! If you would like to purchase some Cold Bee Gone for yourself or for the holidays we offer you 25% off by typing the code, "IWALLK" into the "Discount" field at checkout. Not only will this bring your purchase cost down (plus shipping which is USPS priority flat rate), but we will donate five dollars per bottle sold directly to Alex and his Journey. This is the height of cold season so we hope this is an appealing option to support your own health through the winter and also support the blog! Bee Well Iwallkers! ~ JCD
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Support Dawna Lamson's Simply Smiles fundraising campaign! 

From her page...
Help me support Simply Smiles by making a donation to my Win A Trip campaign! With your help, you can send me to Oaxaca, Mexico or the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota to work with Simply Smiles. The process is fast, easy, and secure. I truly appreciate any support you can provide. And, no matter the outcome, it will benefit a great cause! 
If you can't make a donation at this point, help me reach my goal by sharing this page on Facebook and Twitter! Or, even better, send an e-mail to friends you think might be interested in contributing and include a link to my page! 
Thanks so much for your generosity!
This will be a wonderful opportunity for Dawna to provide a brighter future for impoverished children, their families, and their communities. It's easy to give! Just click on Dawna's picture below.





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