I feel it is time to add a little context to my posts, and to my overall life… for the benefit of my friends and loved ones.
I’ve been dwelling within my own toxic mystery and formulating piles of acidic outpourings from which my new mind springs forth. Which new mind? Who’s mind? Where is mind?
Forgive my long, sticky, misleading prose vomits and poetry diarrhea as of late, I’ve been going through “a phase”
You know, one of those artsy-farsty riddles that ties itself into a fisherman’s knot and then I hand it to you and expect you to make use out of it or else light it on fire and throw it into the recycling bin of forgetful uselessness.
That’s where all bad poetry goes.
In fact, I daresay, most poetry goes there. Poetry is fucking dead. I didn’t decide that; you did.
But I still love it as it bleeds from me. If for no one else, for myself.
Call me a literary necromancer, or just call me a textual necrophiliac;
yes sometimes I have a sort of sexual intercourse with my paragraphs. It’s weird.
I still journal regularly, but I haven’t been sharing as much of it. My linear adventures are soon-to-come.
Anywho, I’ll get to it.
Where do I live?
I currently live on the island of Kaua’i.
Where do I sleep?
Everywhere! I mainly use a hammock and rainfly combo, setting myself up in the camouflage of jungle pines on the outskirts of beaches, but I have been known to squat in abandoned buildings, sleep on benches, beaches, dewy meadows, etc.
There is even a secret cabin that is shared by the vagabonds of the island. But don’t ask me where it is.
It’s a secret.
How do I use the computer so much?
Well, the library won’t have me anymore. I lost a book of theirs and I owe them. It’s not the worst debt I’ve caused, but I still feel bad about it. Unfortunately for them, I don’t have money.
So instead I go to hotels and motels for coffee, continental breakfast, and their business centers with computers.
I even get to take a dip in the hot tub if I’m sly enough.
This is where I do the majority of my blogging; from hotels and motels. There sure are a lot of them here.
They also keep steady supplies of sugar, tea bags, and other things that I load up on.
My mother always told me, “nothing in this life is free, Jonathan”.
So, to prove a point to her, myself, and the “free world”, I fill my pockets with all types of packets every time I’m near them. I get sugar, salt & pepper, condiments, red pepper & parmesan, tea, all for free.
Just last week, I hit a pharmacy dumpster and pulled out an entire three trash bags full of pre-packaged food.
Granola, rice, trail mix, chips, candy; I even found a cooler backpack and a re-usable shopping bag to carry most of it in!
I then distributed the food among my friends and myself.
I don’t panhandle. I don’t ask for anything here. Strangers just pass it along.
I think this is what Reagan meant by trickle down economics.
And then I haul the food, on my back, to my nearest camp location.
I stay where I stay.
Most of these camp locations are in operation, meaning they are used and looked after by myself and others.
We leave cookware, extra cans of food, bottles of water, a pinch of tobacco and a rolling paper, a dry book, and tarps. This way, we can always show up empty-handed and still be taken care of. Most of these locations are squats. They’re on private or state-owned property.
We’ve been “evicted” multiple times from multiple locations, but that doesn’t stop us.
And even if they killed us, shredded our bodies, fed the remains to wild boars and monk seals,
someone else would be there next week, just like me.
The police don’t seem to care. The rangers have a hard time delivering you a fine if you don’t give them correct information.
I encourage everyone, everywhere to live like this if they desire it. I choose to live this way. I like it. It’s liberating.
My home is planet earth. My permit, my feet. My excuse? I have none. I’m just trying to live.