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Saturday, May 30, 2020

I realized Friday night I'm no longer on the time clock of The Man.

That's right -- The Man.

I can do what I want as The Homeless Editor

(I should note that when I once ranted about The Man, my daughter, the genuis, stopped me. "Father," she always calls me "father" when serious, "you're a middle-aged white man who is editor of the local newspaper -- you ARE The Man."

Fair point, kid. Fair point.

So I stayed up until 5 a.m. today pounding out 20 pages of a screenplay I've had in my head for three years now. (Note to self: "Pounding out" seems to be an inelegrant phrase describing writing.)

Then I slept until 4 p.m.

As I near the work week again -- the so-called work week -- when I return the the world of searching for jobs, I will re-jigger my sleep schedule to show The Man I can capitulate when need be.

Until then, my time as The Homeless Editor is my own.

Friday, May 29, 2020

I was kicked out of McDonald's today -- then told I could stay.

Almost everyday for two weeks, I've been going to the north side McDonald's for wi fi. I generally get a little nosh -- a cheeseburger, fries and a medium Coke costs about $3.50.

Then today, one of the managers saw me unpacking my laptop and said they weren't open inside and said I couldn't stay. I think she saw the pathetic look on my face when I muttered that I thought it was OK because no one had kicked me out in two weeks. She said, with a smile, OK, go ahead and stay. She was quite sweet.

I've been invited to attend a Zoom meeting Monday with a group of retired IU professors to talk about the perils of local newspapers. But I warned them I'm connection poor so they're going to try and help me find a place.

I'm working on getting my medication before the month ends in a couple of days.

Each day, I'm in need of IT solutions after having an IT department for nigh 30 years now.

I miss my friends from The Office and The Shoe and Upland and Uptown and the newspaper.

I swear to Christ, I will never take anything for granted again.

I love all or you.

Thursday, May 28, 2020

I look forward to having my feet underneath me again -- at least that feeling.

Again, I'm lucky. A place to stay, food, some savings. Last night colleague Laura Lane stopped to see me and brought me a hunk of meat to cook. She used the word "adorable" far too many times to describe my living circumstances at the cottage. But, in fact, it is quite adorable.

She chastised me for keeping my shelf-stable food in the middle of the kitchen in a laundry basket. And the inside of my fridge looked like that of her 21-year-old son.

Then she found Ring Ding packages -- empty. OK, I have made some poor life choices.

Laura also said I need to step up my game on the blog. I agree.

But I'm also just trying to breath right now, just trying to keep doggy paddling my fat head above water.

I imagine, then, for those who have it much worse. How they're drowning and can't catch a breath. They can see the sun, a blurry orange ball through the water, but they can't feel its warmth.

I suspect that feeling of feet underneath me will come.

In time.

Love all of you.

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Suffering from severe gout -- the medication for which causes an embarrassing side effect -- I painfully made my way to the car to drive into town seeking out free WiFi when I saw -- A SNAKE! A FRICKIN' SNAKE! I HATE SNAKES!

Hobbled as I was I couldn't jump or run only scrape my feet along the pavement block where the snake lie. The sound or vibration clearly startled him -- I think it had been napping in the warm sun -- and it made its way into the weeds, saying in Parseltongue, "A homeless editor! I hate homeless editors!"

That's all I have today.

No job openings. Nothing particularly homeless-ey.

But at least I got a story out of my incident.

I love all of you.

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Hello doubt, I didn't see you standing there.

Applying for a bunch of jobs today, from local to places on both coasts to some remote work, doubt crept in.

For those of you charting references on this blog, the lede sentence is a paraphrase of a Sheb Wooley parody, "Hello Walls No. 2," of the famous Faron Young/Willie Nelson hit "Hello Walls" of 1965. (And for non newspaper folks, "lede" is correct spelling for the first paragraph of a story.)

I wrote half a dozen cover letters, filled out a dozen forms -- all of which called for an address -- and for each one of them thought, "why would they hire me?"

Having seen thousands of resumes, I know what's problematic with mine. I've worked too many places. I have had some short tenures. And I can hear the hiring manager yell, "Next..." sending mine into the garbage.

But jobs seem to be opening up. On the websites I check, there were dozens of new openings rather than a handful. Some even said, "Urgently hiring." Cool.

Signed,
Urgently searching


Monday, May 25, 2020

On this Memorial Day, my mind goes to those who served our country and to those who do not have shelter.

According to www.policyadvice.net, about 40,000 veterans are homeless on any given night. Veterans make up 11 percent of all homeless. Among the reasons are high divorce rates, social isolation, substance abuse issues and mental health problems.

That should serve as a great shame to this country.

Thankfully, the number of homeless veterans is down by about 40 percent since 2011 as the Veterans Administration has done a significantly better job at identifying problems and focusing programs.

Still, 40,000 a night is too many and helping them should remain a focus of the VA. The administration should use each Memorial Day to update the country on the progress it is making in improving the situation.

Thank you, veterans, for fighting on our behalf.

(Editor's note: I am in no way suggesting I am the same as a homeless veteran. I did not serve. I have a roof over my head. I have a little money and food. My problem is entirely of my making.)

Sunday, May 24, 2020

Not much to hustle on a Sunday during Memorial Day weekend.

I've been calling the job search and the blog, interviews and making connections, as my "hustle."

No new jobs available and every other intelligent person in the country taking a little time off. So I'm having a couple of beers in the middle of the day.

I leave you this sweet message from an international reader: "Hello there! You've been giving a lot, thanks for sharing. I'm a reader from Brazil. I'm sending you good vibes from the tropics, wishing you well. Stay safe! Gregorio."

I love you all.