I made my way down to Weasel’s campsite yesterday. He was drunk, belligerent, and obstinate. It seems his homelessness is taking a toll. I can’t blame him. My tour of homelessness was a drunken volley as well. I just wish there was something I could do to help him. Such an experience tends to put men on common ground. I left him hurling racial slurs my way and peddled on up to the grocery store. I sat for the longest time talking to Slop about much ado about nothing; such banal conversation.
I know this may sound odd, but I yearn to be homeless again. I am under a severe amount of social pressure from my family. I wish I could cast that all aside and go back to the anonymity and carelessness that living homeless affords. My socially affluent family would ostracize me once again and leave me alone. I get so tired of their putting on airs. It seems I must constantly jump hoops to be in their social good graces. I just want to be a drunken homeless bum.
Am I setting my sights too low? I don’t know anymore. I just want peace of mind for once in my godforsaken life. I know these writings must seem dire and fatalistic. I assure you that they are not. I just feel better talking about it and sharing it with others.
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