To Noisey. I'll probably find another place. That's the text message I received when I returned from my hike. It was Rob. Sent at midnight. This was reinforced by a voicemail from the morning. And the suggestion was that he'd had a loud night and wanted to move out. It was 4:30pm when I received the message. I'd spend the last twelve hours hoofing it in the wilderness. My primary concerns--showering and eating a hot meal and finding a place to sleep--flooded my conscious focus. Fielding a tenant's complaint was the last thing I wanted to deal with. I decided to wait to call him until after I ate. I had told him I'd be away in the wilderness for the weekend, so I had a built-in excuse to stall. The best $5...
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After waking up in a tent at 3:00am, I gathered my belongings together and stretched before hitting the trail. It was a long hike, 22 miles in all, each mile revealing a fresh perspective of the Sierra Nevada range. These are the mountains that inspired the devotion of naturalist John Muir and motivated the creation of an unprecedented three national parks to protect its peaks. And they would be my backdrop for the day ahead. My hiking group was jovial--more than I generally care for at such an early hour--but this ultimately made for some great company. There were nearly 20 people in all, men and women from a variety of backgrounds, assembled through an online meetup group designed expressly for this...
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It was a lonely Friday night. After packing my belongings for the hike, I retired to my air mattress. Instead of a restful sleep, I spent hours fidgeting about in a half-awake reminiscence over times less austere. I imagined Shani, my ex-girlfriend, my most enigmatic and troubled love, emerging out of the shadows to propose reconciliation, to offer me a respite from my self-imposed solitude. Not that I wanted help; I didn't know what I wanted. But I liked the idea of her tenderly presenting an olive branch. Shani haunted me periodically, her memory still so alarmingly vivid, even after the passing of these seven months. Tonight, she haunted my foresleep, leaving me with waking nightmares of wounds reopened....
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Today marks the end of my first month as The Office Hobo. I've decided to celebrate by leaving town. Tomorrow, I plan on heading to the apartment early in the morning to prepare for Rob's arrival. Once we exchange the keys and the cash, I will head up to Inyo National Forest for a group hike in the mountains. It has been an eventful month, to say the least. I've successfully defined office-living as a viable form of home-free living, saving over $1,100 in rent while experiencing an uncharacteristically dizzying social presence. I have read two books and written enough material to considering developing one of my own. I've evaded the attention of my coworkers and neighbors, secured the recovery of my IRS tax...
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I paid $13.50 for a sandwich today. It was a huge mistake. I've come here today to make amends for that mistake. The scene of the crime was the Bay Cities Deli in Santa Monica, and I had stopped there on the way to an appointment at a nearby client's office. This prospect excited me, as Bay Cities has arguably the best deli sandwich in Los Angeles, and at reasonable prices. Or so I thought. Once I was able to jockey for a spot in the limited parking lot, I hustled into the shop. Figuring I had just missed the weekday lunch rush, I thought I'd just waltz in and out. But such is not life in sunny Santa Monica; the inside of Bay Cities was like WalMart on Black Friday. Cray-cray. Yes, that's right....
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In less than a week, Jürgen would move out of my apartment. The decision to stick it out in the office for another month seemed a no-brainer. I had developed a routine and was living in a way that I had never lived before, liberated from the anxieties of financial burden and unwanted obligation. The sneaking suspicion that I was making a huge mistake had come and gone. And with it left any doubt that I would re-post my ad for another candidate for sublease. Jürgen agreed to let me show the place on Saturday afternoon. The first thing I did when I arrived was take a shower. It was a particularly warm afternoon, and I still emanated an odorous mixture of alcohol, sweat, and Vera-scent. Having just let my trial...
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Friday's Done-Did List: - wake up in office for 6th time this week - brush teeth - create ad for upcoming month's sublease - work - wait for last coworkers to leave at 5:15pm - spill trash all over carpet while taking out clothes for post-work shower - note that this is 9th time said trash has been knocked over while arranging bags under desk - put trash can back in same spot - remember that this is another Cleaning People Weekend - mumble under breath periodically about how cleaning people better be on schedule; include curse words - tolerate communal bathing at YMCA - enjoy post-workday drink with neighbor James - enjoy second post-workday drink with neighbor James - close out happy hour tab -...
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There exists somewhere a saying about the true curse of a thirst for punishment not being the punishment itself, but the fact that said thirst can never be satisfied until the punishment is ultimate. And at that point, you're dead. Am I making that up? I think I'm making that up. Anyway, you get the point. Dogs will always express loyalty to their owners, people who like to get spanked will always take pleasure in having their underpants slipped down just beneath their buttocks, moths will continue to smash themselves against streetlamps under a waxing crescent moon, etcetera. (I'm winning over readers everywhere with this stuff, I just know it!) But there's a purpose here. And that is this: I'm going to...
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Linda removed herself from the picture this afternoon. We had made plans to see one another two days in advance. But last night, Linda sent me a message saying that she forgot she had planned to go to a birthday party being thrown for her friend's boyfriend. It was an intimate affair and somewhere deep in the San Fernando Valley (a.k.a. B.F.E.), but I was invited to attend with her if I was interested. I was once again miffed by Linda's frenetic mis-scheduling. It came across more as absentmindedness than spontaneity, more as careless impulsiveness than friendly social opportunism. My plans to spend a night on an exclusive date with her were again deferred. So I politely delayed discussing it further until we...
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After a week showering at the local Family YMCA, my free trial membership there came to an end. The time had come for me to find another gym. I had actually grown fond of my routine at the Y. I had learned how to avert my eyes from geriatric ball-sacks and navigate the oblique corridors. The tiny hallway of elliptical machines suited the ephemeral nature of my cardio workouts, and the unassuming climate of the place, from the cordial staff to the low locker room lighting, kept my visits focused and free of the anxiety I had anticipated after my initial day (outlined in the post "Shower Time"). I was actually going to miss showering there. So when it came time to pick another gym, I decided to go with...
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