Journaling from my Homeless Days…

I kept a notebook with various writings during my homeless days. Luckily, I have saved this notebook, but have never got around to publishing much of it upon the web. Here was an entry from December 27th, 2004.

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Describing the cold: It seeps into your bones. You start looking for excuses to exercise to stay warm. You dream of those easy days when you had a warm home to go to. A roaring fire can be the most wonderful thing ever discovered.

Those were my thoughts this morning as I lay in my warm sleeping bag dreading climbing out to start my day. It was brutally cold this morning with a low of 27 degrees according to the little clip on thermometer upon my backpack. I don’t know if I can take much more of this. I do take comfort in that you do somewhat get used to the cold although I doubt you will ever get used to subfreezing temperatures.

I always took having a home for granted. It was second nature to wake up in a warm bed after a cold winter’s night to turn on the heat and bask in its warmth. Comfort was just a mere walk across the room and a push of lever to adjust the thermostat. I will never take having a home again for granted if I ever gain another.

I finally crawled out of my sleeping bag this morning to a heavily frost covered landscape. The woods were so quiet in those cold early dawn hours. It seemed I was the only thing stirring. All the animals had enough sense to hunker down until the sun had risen enough to warm the winter air.

I built a small fire and the got my camp stove lit. I boiled some coffee and then boiled a pot of water. I know Ramen noodles aren’t exactly the most orthodox of breakfasts, but that hot broth is so comforting and soothing on a cold morning such as this.

I plan on riding into town upon the Bandit around lunch to get supplies. I need more beer and cigarettes and something to cook for supper. I think I will just buy a loaf of bread and some luncheon meat and forego cooking and dirtying up all my camp cooking gear.

I still have a terrible buzz from last night’s drinking. Before bed, I downed twelve beers in quick succession hoping it would knock me out. I wanted to do anything to escape my reality. The only time I ever feel good is when I am drunk these days and it helps you feel warm and comfortable. I know I shouldn’t drink so much, but when life gets this low things stop mattering. You live only for the day in front of you and not for tomorrow.

Well, let me make myself presentable and ride on into town. I have grown sober enough where I am starting to dread life once again. The only remedy for this malady is another twelve pack of very strong beers. Good day.