Lord, I am a baby to this life!
Few quick tips on vandwelling:
If there’s a choice between liquid or dry, always choose dry.
Every coffee shop has an electrical outlet somewhere.
Ask Walmart if they allow overnighters. They’re usually really nice.
Keep the windows open as much as possible.
And now for some tips on busking!
Harass the passerby at every opportunity. Threaten to play until you get a tip. Comment on their outfits.
Wear your prettiest, weirdest outfit.
Leave no more than $2 in your case at a time.
Dance, and be brave.
Here’s what’s been happening in JoLoVille: Continue reading
So far, my journey has included a poetry reading, two long stays at coffee shops, Japanese food, a parking ticket getaway, a Wiccan ritual, and a mini-love affair. So far, so good.
It’s hard to imagine being far from this city. The small-town feel, familiar faces, artistic bent, and earthy Maine-ness make for a killer combination.
I should have stopped to busk in the park on Exchange St, but melancholy for my city stopped me. I know she has other lovers, and I don’t expect her to pass her time without me alone, but I hope I find my way back to her arms.
There are 80,000 things I’d like to say:
How I feel, what I want
But none of it will make a damn bit of difference
And that’s what’s breaking my heart.
It’s 6 am and I’m awake. In October in New England, the sun isn’t even up yet, so my body has no excuse. l always thought people were kidding about waking up so early automatically. Same as I always thought people were lying about liking the cold. “Ooh, it’s so cold out; I love it!” Oh me, too! Totally! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Just more of that dry Maine sense of humor, I thought. In the past few years, though, I’ve learned that, No, there really are people who love the cold. Just like there are actually abberent creatures (Hello! Here I am!) who wake up before dawn, in the absence of all reason. I can’t figure it out. l have nothing to do today; why am I awake before noon?
I’m trying to embrace it. I very strongly believe that we can only buck the trend of ordinary, we can only ever achieve personal greatness, we can only ever become the best version of ourselves, when we acknowledge and subsequently embrace our inalienable truths. Hence, I live in a van.
The federal government would call me homeless, but that’s not true – this van is my home. It doesn’t fit their definition, but it definitely fits mine. Here I am on my bed in my bedroom, writing. A foot from me in any given direction is my closet, my kitchen, my pantry, my studio, and my garage. A whole life in 275
square cubic feet. l’ve always loved things that were made on a smaller scale. It’s also a life in motion, and I owe a great debt to the close friend who made me face that aspect of myself. Maybe someday l’ll find one spot to call home, but it hasn’t found me yet. For now, I have wildly itchy feet and a home that comes with me. Maybe that’s like saying I love the cold; maybe you’ll think I’m joking. No hard luck led me to this, although hard luck I may find along the way. You see, this is my first day. I threw myself an amazing going-away party last night, and today my travels begin.