“Fuck you ya turd person indifferent voyer! I know your spyin’ on me! I’m not no stupid thot.
I got some cents an’ digntees . I don’t flaunt my pussy ta jus anyone on da street fer da fix or fiver.
Looks are deceivin’ in da world I habitate. Jus cuz I get all quiet sometimes don’t mean I ain’t got no voice.
Believe it or not I actually reads some when not messed up on someptin’ harsh. I have a libary card an’ an oberdue book of short stories by some person whose last name starts with Check. Go look in my han’bag ta prove it!
I sleep here in dis rented shithole room at da Cadillac Hotel on Chestnut Street in Rahcheser, New York.
Things weren’t always dis way fer me though. I used ta have lots of clean new cloths ta wear, smooth skin, long locks of dirty blon’ hair an’ a mouth full of sparklin’ teeth. I grew up in lots of ‘burban foster homes an’ went ta nice schools there till I wuz sixteen or sebenteen. That’s when I started coppin’ da teen tude an’ my doptive parents got all fed up with me. Been on my own since then.
Durin’ my late teens-early twenties I traveled some. I wuz a Deadhead groupie. After that I waitressed at a trunk stomp in Montana that were in da middle of nowhere before I hitchhiked ta New Orleans an’ lived a while with a bardowner in da Frenchee Corner named Pierre. He wuz a sleaze-bag who were only interested in my body an’ happened ta forget ta tell me ‘bout is kept wife. I told him then I ain’t no one’s mistress cuz it’s jus not right.
That’s about when I met Mick da skullpter. He wuz older than me an’ said I reminded him of an ol’ friend named Jan Jopl’n. He called me a floret an’ waz da first man who ever really complimented me that way, from da heart.
Da dude needed an extra pair of hand cuz he wuz missing one an’ I needed a place ta crash. Da ‘raingment worked great fer several years but when he died from da AIDS virus an’ heroin dicshun I waz forced again ta go on da road. I ‘ventually ended up here.
I share dis place with Steven, an aspiring distributer of farm-a-sue-tickles an’ herbal cumcockshuns that people swallow, snort, smoke or shoot up ta help them feel good. Two or three afternoons a week he goes off fer few hours with one of his partners ta conducts da business an’ earn his ‘under da table’ money.
Steve is a former Hells Angel. He had ta stop ridin’, drinkin’ da beers an’ associatin’ with his ol’ pals as part of his probation deal but I know he still see them regular at their fun houses ‘off da books’ ta keep up on da organizational politics until he’s done servin’ his punishment time an’ can go hang with them again without getting’ in no trouble. Heck, he’s not even supposta be livin’ with me so we keep our sleepin’ situation unspoken fer da most part.
My Steven is jus a big manchild an’ need ta be told ta do stuff like take shower, get ta his scheduled appointment on time an’ act politely ta da people who are bein’ nice ta him. I also thinks Steven looks much more handsome clean shaven with a normal cut hair. He however prefers ta look like a redheaded Grizzly Adams mountain man even though he’s short an’ lucky ta weigh one hundred twenty pounds soakin’ wet.
Steve is also not much of a mornin’ person an’ acts like a rabid bear when someone bothers him before eleven. He smacked me ‘round more than once fer wakin’ him too early.
One time a few week ago I even needed ta go ta da emergency room at Strong Hospital fer stiches cuz he didn’t want ta get up fer a job innerview. Good thing I ain’t his fishal old lady or I might not have forgiven him so easy fer doin’ what he did. He ‘poligized proper eventually an’ say he wuz jus hung over bad an’ don’t remember nuttin’ an’ dat he wuz meanin’ no disrespect ta me.
Artsy Fetish lives next door. His real name is Arthur Fetis . Despite actin’ all tuff an’ mean-like in da public as well as being an intimidatin’ six-foot- five’ an’ weightin’ more than a train engine I still tease him in a sisterly fashion cuz I know he’s more of a woman than me privately. It don’t bother me none that he likes dicks, long fur coats an’ flashy large brim hat with long feders , even in da hot summer-time. Those ideosincraceez give him character in my ‘pinion an’ make him more interestin’ ta be ‘round.
Art’s in charge of arrangin’ da lady dates fer peeple in need fer those kinds of services. I sometimes do favors fer him in exchange fer help with my shair of ‘penses here.
When da work’s there he’s ‘vailable every night but Sunday cuz that’s a religious day an’ would be disrespectin’ ta da beliefs he waz raised under ta do what he does then. Da man likes livin’ at da Cadillac cuz it be cheap an’ he don’t haffta pay taxes. It’s also an easy spot ta find da workers he needs fer his business . He has a smart foan an’ can get most of what he needs done with that or da laptop computer so he only have ta go out sometimes ta make sure that his peoples are doin’ what they are supposed ta.
Mine an’ his lifes run a bit parallel. We relate good ta each other an’ can easily talk ‘bout our days or other things like Charlie Bookowskee, our favorite poet.
Da man grew up in Buffalo, New York. He dropped out of da school there at sixteen an’ run away from home cuz his gran’mom wuz too poor ta care fer him an’ his lil’ sisters. Arsty though only got as far as Rahcheser, when his travlin’ money runned out.
It has come ta my attention dat sum god-dammit no-good investigator type from Human Services wuz pokin’ their Javert noses ‘round our place a couple days ago sniffin’ fer trouble. They wuz askin’ private questions ‘bout me ta da management an’ several tenants. They supposedly wrote stuff down an’ took some pictures too!
Thank goodness I’m on da postative terms with most of da peoples here an’ Crazy Q da lady who likes ta beg fer change on da street corner an’ smacks da ones that don’ give her someptin’ wertwhile. She wuz all sneaky in da shadows an’ watched them walk through da building ‘spectin’ stuff. All I had ta do ta get her ta tell me what happened is give her all da empty cans an’ bottles in da room, which wuz fine by me cuz da place needed a thorough cleanin’ out anyway.
Q told me that they were all ‘palled by da livin’ condishimons in my room an’ made all sorts of judgments on how I choose ta live my life. They implied that I needed ta do better with myself an’ were gonna do somethin’ ‘bout it.
Well I say go mind their own business! Leave me alone an’ stop messin’ anymore with my temprary insistence an’ food stamp benefits. Those fuckin’ paper pushin’ berrocratz don’t know shit ‘bout me. All I is ta them is another case number an’ a monthly benefit calculashun based on da people who live in my household.
Jesus, I never been no baby mamma an’ I only been ‘rested twice, but never served no time. I’m da least of da government’s problems. If they really want ta go pesterin’ someone, why don’t they go up two floors ta room four-o’five? That son-of-a- bitch been braggin’ ‘bout collectin’ unployment an’ disbility at da same time fer months now. I know that’s not legal cuz Steven tried ta do da same a while ago an’ got a talkin’ ta from his probation officer. Steve played dumb an’ they jus slapped his hand some then sent him ta work at a lame-ass program fer people transistshunin’ from da prison life. That job wuz too early in da mornin’ fer him and didn’t pay enough so he stopped goin’ after a week an’ never went back.
Da day that they come here an’ looked at da room wuz a ‘nomoly. It usually don’t look that bad. We were cumin’ down from a three day binge an’ jus needed ta get out fer a while after we sobered up some. Steve, Art an’ me wuz walkin’ ta Marks on Monroe Ave ta get us someptin’ ta eat.
I wuz totally intendin’ ta throw out a
ll da garbage an’ clean up da puke we left on da bed. Da smashed TV wuz someptin’ we jus picked off a curb somewhere so it were already broke. I can’t vouch though fer da Laffin’ Buddha statue dressed in lipstick an’ not mine dirty woman’s unnerware. None of us have any memories where that thing came from .
I guess we should be thankful there were no needles or pipes left out in da open fer anyone ta see. Then we’d have really been up da crack without a puddle an’ da cops would have gotten involved. Da room though still probly smelled like someptin’ crawled up Artsy’s poop-shoot an’ died.
Da management won’t let no one open their room windows ta air things out every once in a while cuz they are fraid that someone might jump out an’ kill themself an’ their family who want nothin’ ta do with them when they wuz alive would suddenly care an’ sue da owners fer bein’ negligent.
They jus don’t get that I don’t stay here fer my personal welfare. I can always find another man ta crash with, ‘brace da Lord an’ stay at da Open Door Mission or make up sum bullshit story fer my case worker den go live at da YWCA fer a while. It make no difference ta me.
When it all comes down ta it I guess I’m here cuz Steve an’ Art really need me.
I take care of them. Without me they’d be lost, dead or back in da jail.
I take it on myself ta be their family cuz we ain’t got nobody but each other. Who else would talk ta them in confidence during da days we are struck here all alone with nothin’ constructive ta do, do their dirty laundry when it need doin’, remind them it time ta eat somethin’ when their too fucked up ta think fer themselfs, or make sure they don’t get shooted by some pissed off asshole who refuses ta pay up?
Neither will ever admit it but I’m all they have right now an’ if I lose my benefits an’ have ta leave here cuz sum overedumicated know-it-all civil servant thinks I need fixin’, dis small safe haven world we worked real hard ta create fer ourself will cease ta exist. Steven an’ Arthur will be forced ta fend fer themselfs an’ I’ll need ta figure another way around da Social Services system again.”
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