Day 1,468: A (4th) Rent-Free Year in Review One Comment

Stuck in “development hell”, my television show featured housing situations just as strange as Hollywood’s idea of quality programming.

2016 has been a shocking year. Britain leaving the EU. The U.S. presidential election. Los Angeles criminalizing vehicular homelessness mere hours after voters approved a billion-plus dollar measure to house the homeless. Even sports blew us away, with the Cubs winning their first World Series in over a century and Leicester championing the English Premier League at 5,000-to-1 odds. And that’s just scratching the surface.

Personally, the year was full of highlights and disappointments. My improbable reaching of the 4-year home-free, rent-free milestone passed recently, giving me a double-dose chance to review 2016 in the life of The Office Hobo. So here is, in classic Good/Bad/Ugly fashion, in descending order:

The Ugly

A Volatile Political Climate
The influence of a shaky political landscape on homeless and home-free populations cannot be ignored. America is facing three branches of federal government historically opposed to supporting social services, a cruel fate for the most vulnerable among us. Though local and state politics remain largely unchanged, and one could even argue the political will for empathy is trending positively with the willingness of voters to approve $1.2 billion in funding for housing the homeless. Yet little has been done to address the disappearing affordable housing in the city. Only 10,000 units are expected to be built, with the first not slated for completion until 2019. At the earliest. Meanwhile, city officials have pushed ahead with their de facto criminalization of vehicular homelessness, pushing those sleeping in their cars to the periphery of the city. The fines for those who don’t move will likely land some in deep water. A startlingly discompassionate action for a growing community with increasingly fewer affordable housing options. Disregarding the source of the problem ensures it will get worse.

Illnesses in the Final 1/3 of the Year
The Office Hobo has never been sicker. From September to December, I’ve seen a doctor two handfuls of times for different ailments. What was once a reliable, healthy body began to fail me a bit these past few months. Why? Probably stress. (Will address this later.) The worst seems behind me, but it was an alarming reality.

I wasn’t seeing enough of this logo in 2016.

My Upkeep of The Office Hobo Blog Page
This is only my second update since August! Coincidentally when my health started to decline. (Could a blog update a day be what was keeping the doctor away??) Regardless, 2016 has been a failure on the blog update front. Shame on me.

The Bad

My Television Show Didn’t Sell–Yet
Promising leads never revealed the promised land. Without revealing too much, I’ll just say the links with industry powerhouse CAA and executive genius Brian Graden were not enough to sell a show. This time around. But I’ve been blessed to come in contact with some brilliant minds in entertainment. Our network meetings were highly informative and the lessons I learned from Graden’s team were invaluable. The show is not dead, only hibernating. Trust I’ll resurrect it in 2017 and push forward once again.

Not a bad place to have the flu. If that’s any consolation.

My Book is (Still) Not Done
Two writing retreats later and I still don’t have a finished product I’m satisfied with. But I’m close. Catching the flu during halfway through my second stint at my desert getaway set me back, leaving me with a handful of minor but intensive lingering improvements. I’m vowing to complete these in the coming weeks. Then we can talk publishing.

Limited Travel Due to Project Focus
I didn’t travel nearly enough this past year. For the first time in years, my passport was left unstamped. I didn’t climb any notable mountains. My road trips were limited to Southern California and I departed by plane only three times–the Atlanta Film Festival, the Tiny House Jamboree plus a side trip to New York, and back home to Florida for the holidays. On the surface, one might wonder why this is in the “Bad” category. But context is key. Giving up stable rental housing has meant unparalleled flexibility for travel. My past travels are well documented here, but in retrospect 2016’s paltry travel calendar seems like a waste of free time. Most of that time was dedicated to advancing projects. Probably too much time for my own good. More on how I’ll approach that in a minute.

The view from my housesit to close out 2016.

The Good

An Emerging “Sharing Economy” Lifestyle
2016 revealed an epiphany in rent-free living: Favor sharing. I discussed this in a post back in July, but in short I stumbled upon a wealth of housing opportunities in exchange for favors. These ranged from cat- and dog-sitting to helping write website content or donate labor for charity projects. As I write this, I am enjoying a week on Venice Beach, housesitting in an old friend’s bungalow perch in view of the Pacific. It’s a heck of a way to ring in the new year.

In 2016, I spent 71% of my time either house-sitting, pet-sitting, vacationing, or away on a writing retreat. The remainder of my nights, roughly speaking, were spent in my truck. (Disclaimer: An uncounted number of those truck nights were spent at the home of a girl I was dating, something I was keen not to take advantage of.) With house/pet-sitting comprising the largest chunk of my residential housing in 2016, one might wonder if I should stick to this housing model in the coming year. That seems a hopeful enterprise. One of my pet-sitters has already drastically reduced my role, thanks to a new landowner taking over her property, converting the main house into an Air BnB rental and hiking her rates by a few hundred bucks. My other steady clients are mulling over moves. While 2017 could yet yield a fair number of nights in some else’s bed, I doubt I’ll replicate the numbers I put up this year.

My Appearance at the Tiny House Jamboree
I covered my experience at the Jamboree in detail here, but it bears repeating. The relationships I formed with some of the folks in the movement still mean a great deal to me. As much as anything, assembling content and preparing for delivery of the 1-hour keynote address (cut into a 5-minute version above!) was invaluable. I’m eager to build on that experience and continue to discuss the movement with others–in front of the mic or otherwise.

The Tiny (Toilet) Home Project Progresses
A year ago, I’d have never guessed I’d be planning to live in a toilet. And I’d probably never had guessed doing so would be a good thing. What started as a punchline soon became a pursuit. An obsession. By summertime we were talking with PolyJohn about securing a gutted unit straight from the factory. My posted pitch video (see below) gives an idea of the design. The project spans well beyond that, though, taking the lessons I’ve learned over the last few years and applying that to a simple solution for the affordable housing crisis here in L.A.

Sure, living in a toilet sounds silly. And it may very well be. But it’ll also be innovative, insightful, ambitious, and surprising. Our team is already arranging logistics of the year-long tour, in which I’ll occupy the unit for the duration. By publicizing the merits of tiny living in an urban landscape–and the availability of residential land to do it–the project ought to turn a few heads. After its humble beginnings, what more could I want?

What the Hobo Faithful Can Expect from 2017

A Push for Greater Balance
Like most Americans, I need to do a better job balancing health and leisure with work. Of course, that will look a little different for me. I spent only 18 hours a week at my wage-earning part-time gigs in 2016. Less than half the hours of the average American. Sounds posh until one accounts for my time spent working on creative projects, when I estimate that number nearly quadruples. Which puts me among the most overworked, though one could (and should) argue that my “overworked” hours are spent on my passion and therefore are permissible. But averaging 60+ hours of work each week is simply unhealthy, regardless of the endeavor.

Next year I want to average 20-24 hours per week at wage jobs to meet some financial goals, which should be helped by securing some better paid gigs in the latter part of this year. And cut down my time spent on creative work by 10-15%. That time will be devoted to physical health (regularly) and travel (occasionally). My goal is to travel abroad at least once next year, spreading out substantial getaways to once every 10-12 weeks instead of 16. And read more often. I only read two more books in 2016 than the previous year. All quality reads. I’d like to double that increase in 2017.

More Action on the Project Front
While my aim is to loosen my leash on the project front, I do expect to see more gains in 2017 from work already in progress. My hope is that this will mean less head-spinning from one project to the next and more reaping of rewards for projects like the book and the Tiny (Toilet) Home Project, among others. I’m working on structuring my year to include built-in leisure travel and personal health goals, while setting clearer goals for income and giving myself January and February to tie up some loose ends on the project front. My goal is to be ramping up the sharing of good The Office Hobo news with you guys by Spring and Summer.

The Potential End to My Home-Free, Rent-Free Streak?
Living home-free was never intended to be a long-term endeavor. I just managed to extend living temporarily rent-free as one opportunity yielded the next. The greatest challenge is maintaining a functioning–thriving?–place in a competitive materialist local culture. Part of my income still comes from standing in front of LA’s hottest nightlife spots, standing dapper as hopeful patrons approach, eager to gain my acceptance of their appearance. It’s the single most enduring irony of my lifestyle. And the power of perception never ceases to tickle me.

My lifestyle as of late has strayed from true voluntary simplicity. Or at least the modern, urban version most of my readers can relate to. All those mornings waking up in comfy bedrooms, greeted by other peoples’ pets shedding their hair on my haphazardly placed clothes from the night before. In a way, I haven’t had to suffer through the rigors of home-free living–the constant moving, the exposure to temperature changes, the cruel untimeliness of nature’s calls. Yet simultaneously I have had to put forth more effort. Experiencing the grueling morning commute from the Valley to LA’s westside. Accommodating the constant schedule changes of my housing hosts. Most people move once every few years. I move multiple times a month, shuffling my belongings from one home to the next, often forgetting which house key on the chain I need that day.

My streak of rent-free living is in jeopardy. The urge to bridge the gap between now and the beginning of the Tiny (Toilet) Home tour with stable housing is strong. A seasonal sublease could be the most direct path between myself and my career goals. Yet despite this urge, I have grown no less disgusted with the state of rental housing in Los Angeles. Costs have risen nearly ten percent in the past year. Living in most safe, close, attractive parts of the city is simply unaffordable. My debate over whether or not to weather them for a bit cannot ignore that.

I guess that’s the enduring theme of The Office Hobo story. Bridging the line between nomad and normal is no picnic. Yet I can’t quite bring myself to commit to either side, unconvinced that I have put an authoritative coda on the era that set my whole lifestyle exploration in motion in the first place. For those of you checking in with me from time to time, I guess that challenge of mine is part of the fun.

Which is why I promise to keep you guys engaged on www.theofficehobo.com over the next 365 days.

Regardless of how I’m living.

-TOH 

City Criminalizes Sleeping in Cars (Again) One Comment

This week the City Council approved a ban on sleeping in vehicles in LA. The news was released just over 24 hours after voters approved Measure HHH’s $1.2 billion in homeless housing, a sneaky tactic for a controversial sequel to a law that was struck down two years ago. In short, the law criminalizes overnight sleeping in personal vehicles or RVs unless in specified commercial or industrial zones between 9:00pm and 6:00am. The ordinance will take effect if the Mayor signs it. Here are 10 reasons why he shouldn’t:

1. The zone locations push homeless to the periphery.
   Most vehicular dwellers do their best to avoid brick-and-mortar houses, but the law takes it a step too far. Overnight parkers would be prohibited on any street “that adjoins one or more residential or multifamily residences.” In a neighborhood Venice, that’s nearly every street. Add in the prohibition of parking within 500 feet of any school or park, and the homeless residents will be asked to spend gas money they don’t have to drive to the city’s least trafficked, most vulnerable areas.
2. There is and will never be a “safe parking” alternative.
   This has failed before. Bill Rosendahl’s noble 2010 attempt was rejected because Venice constituents simply didn’t want homeless parking lots next door to their homes. Santa Barbara, the bastion of the nation’s safe parking programs, has a whopping 115 spaces. With over 4,600 vehicular homeless in LA, the most conservative published estimate, does anyone believe the city will find a spot for everyone?
3. Taxpayers will spend millions on the law.
   When the 9^th Circuit Court overturned Municipal Code 85.02 (Desertrain V Los Angeles), it cost taxpayers $1.1 million in legal fees. This iteration isn’t much different. Carol Sobel, the attorney who led the suit overturning the original law, says the law is similarly vaguely worded and potentially discriminatory. Councilman Mike Bonin was already quoted in the Times, saying, “We’re likely to get sued.” The there’s enforcement. A Spring 2015 report estimated LA spent $100 million enforcing homeless laws the year before. Are we so inundated with tax revenue that we can afford more?
4. Sleeping on the sidewalk is legal—but not in your car?
   A federal appeals ruling states that the LAPD cannot arrest people for sleeping on sidewalks until the city can provide enough shelter beds for its homeless. City Attorney Mike Feuer admitted that “absurd and pathetic” past legislation led to men, women, and children being asked to leave cars and sleep on sidewalks. It happened under 85.02. And it will happen again.
5. The law puts a vulnerable population more at risk.
   People found sleeping in their vehicles will be fined. $25 or more, plus a criminal infraction. If they cannot pay, the fine will multiply. Unpaid fines lead to registration holds, which lead to vehicle impoundment. One fine could put a family on the street. Is this a real solution for those who need the most support?
6. Measure HHH’s housing solutions are 3 years away.
   The measure was a major victory for LA’s homeless population—but experts agree the first units won’t be available for at least another three years. That’s 1,000 days of our homeless population ballooning before a solution arises. In the meantime, criminalizing those with a sliver of property to their name absurd.
7. Some vehicular homeless work night jobs.
   Homeless does not mean jobless. Many folks living out of their vans and trucks work evenings. As if the homeless routine wasn’t hard enough in the first place, this forgotten class of vehicular homeless will be out of luck, have no legal options for a full-night’s sleep.
8. Neighborhoods already have a legal way to remove unsightly cars.
   Tired of a run-down RV parked in front of your house? You and your neighbors can petition the Council to post “No Overnight Parking” signs for oversized vehicles on your street. Residents have a straightforward path to resolve the problem. A blanket measure is overkill.
9. Most people living in their cars aren’t nuisances.
   The cruel fetish of vilifying people who live in their cars is exaggerated. Most folks sleeping in the backseat are doing so because of severe financial burden and lack of affordable housing options. They are neither drug abusers nor property vandalizers. Policing the group as a whole—rather than enforcing laws against the bad apples—is both lazy and uneconomical.
10. Passing this after an election is cowardly.
    There’s a reason this was passed amidst the post-election melee—the topic is controversial. Councilmembers know the consequences. Millions spent putting forth on a shaky policy criminalizing their most vulnerable constituents is too embarrassing for prime time.

The law is written to expire on January 1, 2018—unless extended by ordinance. By refusing to sign it, Mayor Garcetti would put the law to bed before it starts. And save us Angelenos a lot of money in the process.

– TOH

Day 1,325: Tiny House Jamboree, Reflections on the Weekend No Comments

The above video is an edited 5-minute teaser, compiling highlights of the speech for those who missed it live.

This past weekend I traveled to Colorado Springs to participate in the annual Tiny House Jamboree. The event featured tens of thousands of spectators, over 50 tiny homes, and a slew of well-known names giving talks and workshops. Oh, and little old me, giving a Sunday talk on the stigma of small-space living for urban professionals.

Though much of my focus during days leading up to my talk was devoted to crafting the final details for a solid presentation, I came away from the Jam with a few key takeaways. For those of you unable to attend–and those who did make the trip–here are my 5 takeaways from the Jamboree.

#1 The setting was incredible.
This year’s jamboree was situated in the foothills of America’s most impressive peaks–the Rocky Mountains. Tucked into a sprawling corner of the Air Force Academy’s athletic grounds, the Jamboree had both impeccable scenery (with Pikes Peak in the distance) as well as space to accommodate scores of exhibits, vendors, presenters, and the endless line of vehicles coming to see them. Walking the grounds had the feel of the air shows I used to attend as a kid (apropos, being that it was literally on the Air Force campus), with a cornucopia of stimuli just waiting to be explored.

Shot with my iPhone4.

While loitering with a friend on the lawn outside of the Drury Hotel, our accommodations for the weekend, the view of the Academy football stadium and adjacent Jamboree grounds revealed themselves in the distance. The afternoon storm clouds rolled in as we talked, and we admired the contrast of blues and grays against the stark greens and browns of the mountainside. We stood there and watched as an eye of sunlight opened between the clouds and soaked the grounds of the Jamboree in a beam of sunlight. One had to wonder if Mother Nature herself had blessed the event. I’d like to think so.

#2 Seeing the work of great builders, up close and personal. 

It was great to see so many well-known builders on hand at once, from ones I had known well from my travels and experience, like Tumbleweed, Airstream, and the Colorado Yurt Company, to others that impressed me with their ingenuity, like OldeWood, EcoCabins, and MitchCraft. The boom of the tiny home community has yielded an array of creative construction, meeting the desires of aesthetics and functionality for a variety of interested parties. Perhaps the most impressive exterior design was the MitchCraft adobe tiny home trailer, with its Pueblo Revival architectural themes in full effect, proving that small-space living need not give up all of the splendor of traditional homes.

MitchCraft’s adobe mini-masterpiece.

#3 Assessing the current state of the tiny living movement.

While there was a notable contingent of innovative and inspiring lifestyle pieces on display, there was also an indication that the movement has its fair share of profiteers as well. With some units priced well above the range of what many of us would deem “affordable”, one was left wondering if certain units really needed that state-of-the art washing machine or RV-style sliders. Six figure units are nice to look at, but the six-figure pricetags and all the frills that come with it suggest that there is indeed a limit to how luxurious one can live the truly tiny lifestyle. After all, downsizing is about removing the excess from one’s life, not cramming it into a smaller space.

I really need a new phone for these shots…

One builder who nailed this concept on the head was OldeWood Limited, with their primive, Walden-esque Salt Box model. This home embodied the style and feel of the true downsizer. Using reclaimed timber frame to construct this modern micro-cabin, the folks at OldeWood put forth a model that fuses functionality with affordability–standing out from the crowd by not including the frills and features that bogged down other units. At under $40k, there’s no wonder this unit sold before the weekend was up. I suspect OWL will have more orders on their way soon.

#4 Meeting and hearing from the greatest minds in the world of tiny. 

I had very much been looking forward to hearing fellow keynote speakers like Kent Griswold and Dee Williams address the crowd, or listening on as Tiny House Nation host Zack Giffin took the stage or others discussed the ins and outs of tiny living philosophy and legality. It’s rare to see a collection of minds of this caliber gathered in one space, so doing so was something I was eager to experience.

Kent Griswold taking Q & A on the mainstage.

One of the weekend’s highlights, though, was sitting down and talking with some of the event coordinators and participants from the weekend. Sharing dinner and drinks with event organizer Angie and Bobby Alcorn and talking with one of the movement’s most pre-eminent minds, Jay Shafer, ranked up there with the weekend’s most memorable experiences–mostly because the sincerity of the connection and how genuinely we shared in the mission of the tiny living experience. We all had experienced our struggles and were united in the core belief of the lifestyle to bring the solutions to fruition. Having once felt like an outlier in the tiny living movement, spending time with these folks helped me realize that wasn’t the case at all. What drives us all is intricately linked, and I’m proud to count myself as a healthy member of their community.

#5 Sharing ideas with this passionate community. 

Ah yes, the talk. I spent many hours preparing this speech, meticulously combing through stories and studies to support my thesis. When Angie contacted me back in January about giving a talk, I wasn’t sure my point of view would be the best fit for a tiny house expo. I should’ve trusted her, though, because in preparing and then delivering the speech I was proven wonderfully wrong.

Little ol’ me.

It was so flattering to present to such a curious and attentive crowd. My concerns were unfounded, as my careful weaving of the entertaining and informative, the humorous and heartfelt, offered a perspective that gave myself and the audience a certain level of communion. Even when I stupidly dropped my papers, an audience member rushed up to help me gather them (thanks again, Ron!). All in all, it was an experience I’ll never forget. And one I hope to replicate with more folks in the future.

Oh, and Michelle, the afternoon’s emcee–accompanied by roaring agreement from the crowd!–made me promise to make public a de facto “transcript” of the speech. I’m hoping to secure and release a video as well, but for the time being I’ll honor that promise and show the speech in full in the photo set below.* Though I implore those of you who missed it (or part of it) to encourage organizers at ensuing events to bring me on as a speaker, so that we can experience this together again. Live. And without me spilling my papers everywhere!

-TOH

* Note that there were amendments and improvisations that gave the live version of the speech a slightly different tint than what’s on paper here. But you get the gist:)

2016 TINY HOUSE JAMBOREE SPEECH:

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Day 1,303: The “Favor-Sharing” Economy No Comments

“Where does ‘presidents’ go?”

“Over here,” I say, “in the politics section of ‘social sciences’.”

“Man, these bookshelves is really coming together.”

Mike hands me the stack of titles on U.S. presidents and I file them into the top shelf. A month ago, the room was a shambles. Dusty boxes and random stored furniture. Discarded construction materials and scattered trash. A rotting apple.  The downtown’s Midnight Mission is a beacon of hope for many of Los Angeles’ homeless, but their facility’s library was little more than a disorganized book depository. Until now.

My friend, Lori, came in to change that. Lori’s non-profit aims to support local community efforts to solve problems of homelessness–among other things. When she visited the Mission, she was struck by the dilapidated condition of the library. How could a homeless center promote the growth of its clients without better displaying the importance of literacy? It didn’t make sense to her. So she set out to change it.

There was just one problem: Lori had zero experience stocking library shelves.

Presenting yours truly.

I high-five my fellow volunteers and decide to call it a day. One more day and our library project will be complete and ready for the official public unveiling. From the center’s ED to the volunteers, everyone is impressed with the almost-finished product. A few residents have even stopped in to ask when they could start checking out books. So with a sense of accomplishment, we pack up for the day. I bid my farewells and make the drive home.

Wait, what? Don’t you live rent-free?

Yes, I do. My rent-free lifestyle has evolved over the years. For the past year or so, I’ve enjoyed a home base in the San Fernando Valley, keeping a room at Lori’s house. In lieu of rent, I provide her non-profit with valuable services and labor–everything from writing grants to sorting books. I tried this out last summer, living mostly full-time out of the house, but have since diversified where I lay my head to nightly rest.

It’s a lifestyle based on a system I call “favor-sharing”, a symbiotic exchange wherein both parties contribute something meaningful to one another, often in place of a financial transaction. It’s bartering for the new millennium. And the results have been incredible.

Mainly, I have been the beneficiary of housing. I’ve lived places in exchange for professional services, labor, home security, pet-watching, and plant care. But the benefits go beyond that, with mutually beneficial favor exchange trickling into meal time (I forage the food, you cook) or vacations (I eBay your stuff, we enjoy a vacation together). Instead of involving unnamed middlemen in dollar-for-time transactions, a direct approach to supply/demand fulfillment engenders a greater sense of community. More so, it’s often done in partnership with someone you know and trust, so you can see the impact and the depth of its meaning. That’s generally not true when paying rent. Or receiving a paycheck from a business owner who’s largely anonymous.

My 2016 has been dominated by favor-sharing living spaces. So far, the benefits have far exceeded the drawbacks. Yes, I am often uprooting and readjusting to new surroundings. Yes, I have to remain sensitive to the whims of those who own the homes I occupy. Yes, I occasionally have to pick up dog poop. But for the most part, the flexibility and variety of my living spaces has afforded me a standard of living that even my traditionally housed friends find envious. Who wouldn’t want a home with a pool one week and a place with a sunset vista balcony the next?

Roughly 3/4 of my nights during this calendar year have been spent either in favor-shared spaces or on vacation. As that continues, my tally of money saved in rent over the years keeps rising, resting comfortably now in the $51,840 range (you know, roughly). On a personal level, favor-sharing helps ensure my wage-earning hours are kept to a minimum, leaving a bulk of my hours devoted to my craft. And the remainder for a little vacation time. And yes, I just sold another item while I was drafting this.

Most importantly, though, favor-sharing has inspired stronger, more meaningful relationships between me and those with whom I share. It’s brought me back into the fold in the world of charity, helping to establish a library for those who need it most. Not a bad substitute for rent, right?

Do you think you could live a favor-sharing lifestyle? Comment below or visit me on Facebook or Twitter to discuss.

-TOH

Day 1,294: Reviewing the Benefits of Home-Free Living No Comments

Pictured Above: A tableau of highlights from my non-road-trip domestic travels as a home-freefolk, from climbing Colorado peaks to meeting with home-freefolk in Austin to watching the sun set over Olympic National Park. (Faces blurred to protect identity.)

It’s been a haul.

A year-and-a-half ago, I wrote a brief report on the benefits of the home-free lifestyle. After 500 or so days, a lot has changed. I think it’s time for an update.

In that now-dated post, I mentioned that “stress evaporated slowly from my life, giving way to creative thought and–dare I say–renewed youthfulness.” Oh, how those days seem now so distant and fleeting!

Not that I’m complaining. Lately, yes, I have experienced a higher level of stress than back then. But the changing of tides has brought with it positive trends. Namely, progress. Progress in the career I was so desperately chasing when this whole experiment began.

These days, I welcome stress. It means there is demand for my creations and motivation to create more, with greater efficiency and higher quality. The kind of talk I used to hear from my superiors–but now that voice is my own.

I’ve traveled less since my last report on the benefits of home-free living. I’ve worked more and had to plan more carefully how I spend my leisure time. This summer, though my traditional-job workload is only 10 hours per week, I forced myself to sit down and create a by-the-hour schedule for myself to ensure I’m meeting all of my goals. For someone without a proper home or job, that may sound absurd. But it’s exactly how I like it.

In June of this year, I celebrated my 3 1/2 year anniversary of living home-free. I’ve come a long way. I’d like to share what I consider the top 5 benefits I’ve enjoyed along the way:

1. In 3.5 years of living rent-free, I saved over $50,000.
   – Not a bad sum. So why not put a down payment on a killer house? Or pay off the last of my student loans? Or splurge on a Bimmer? If you don’t know, you haven’t been following my story. Saving cash is great, but saving time is much more valuable to me. Time can be converted into productivity, and productivity can then be turned into life-altering career advancement. As a writer and filmmaker, that advancement is worth its weight in gold. Sure, I’ve used some of my time to travel and get a healthy night’s rest on a consistent basis. But the real benefit has been not having to work to earn that $50,000. Having the time to create has instead led me to some very compelling opportunities (discussed below). These are opportunities I’d have never enjoyed had I been spending 40 hours (or more) behind someone else’s desk.
2. My creations are now being seen.
   – When I moved into the office, I hadn’t published a single word. I wasn’t working in film and I had no prospects to start. That’s changed. I now have the time to work as a full-time freelance writer and producer. It’s yielding dividends. Last April I woke up with an idea for a television show; this month, it’s in the final stages of development. I’ve got an extremely successful production company backing the show, with a great lawyer and manager pushing it forward. The Creative Artists Agency is representing it. At this stage of development, I couldn’t ask for more. I’m working meticulously through a full-length screenplay while nearing completion (for real this time!) on my The Office Hobo book. Next week I begin shooting another film I wrote. I’ve published works in various publications and am speaking at the Tiny House Jamboree next month. I have a few more projects in the works, too. It’s an insane workload. But it’s exactly the workload I dreamed of having. And being afforded the time to take it all on is a direct result of my lifestyle.
3. I’m motivated to spend more time helping others.
   – At the end of last year, I gave my time to charity for the first time since leaving my job over a year earlier. I helped lead the effort to build a library in–irony alert!–a homeless center in downtown Los Angeles. It was a dramatically rewarding process, and one I’d like to continue moving forward. In fact, one of the aforementioned projects I have in the works involves the creation of affordable living spaces for both young professionals and the homeless locally. We’ve already held numerous meetings about this and have a bunch of really talented partners on board. I can’t wait to unveil the program soon.

Pictured Above: Highlights from my road trips over the last 3.5 years, from the cobalt blue waters of Crater Lake in Oregon to blackjack tables of Las Vegas to the wild snow drifts of East Texas in January–and beyond. (Faces blurred again now just to mess with you.)

• I still manage to find a way to travel.
  – Sometimes I just have to be a little creative. Since my two-year anniversary, I’ve had a handful of trips paid for by others. No, I don’t have a Sugar Momma! I’ve traveled to shoot footage, work with an editor, and screen a film. I travel to Colorado next month to give a speech. Some strategic airline mileage accumulation have paid for me to see family and is about to cover a good chunk of another personal trip to New York. More so than the money, though, is the time. With so much time devoted to the above projects, I can barely keep pace with the needs of this blog, much less find a way to get out of the city. But we all need balance, so I’ve made it a priority.
• Natural engagement in a “favor-trade” lifestyle.
  – Expect more details of this in an upcoming post, but living more freely has allowed me to pursue some lifestyle arrangements I’d have never otherwise considered. Like the “sharing economy” philosophy of crowd-sourcing sites and (profit-motive aside) Uber and eBay, pet-sitting is one way to provide a service in return for housing. I now do that regularly, as well as receiving housing in exchange for writing grants or helping with business ventures or hobbies. Selling someone’s unused items and sharing the proceeds for a night out. Even as simple as urban foraging a meal to share with a friend willing to cook. Eliminating the middlemen allows us to directly serve the needs of one another, free from the premium of an intermediary–or what I sometimes like to call “parasite”.

Never would I have imagined giving up my apartment would yield such benefits. Or maybe I did. Maybe abstractly I realized that giving up my hard-earned money and time to pay for an apartment instead of funding my ambitions didn’t make sense. Regardless, it’s a decision I’m glad I made.

Even if those benefits are causing me a little stress in the meanwhile.

-TOH

10 Best Books for the Voluntary Homeless (and Those Wishing to Understand Them) No Comments

The 10 Best Books for Living Home-Free

(And Those Wanting to Better Understand Those Who Do)

Thinking about living a more intentional life?

Already living simply and seeking some inspiration to continue your journey?

Know someone who lives in her RV and want to read up on the greats to understand why on Earth someone would do such a thing?

If you answered “yes” or “maybe” or “kind of I dunno quit asking me questions”, this is the reading list for you.

Disclaimer: Most literature that helps understand the reasoning behind giving up one’s house or apartment and living home-free only indirectly addresses the lifestyle. Most relevant literature discusses voluntary simplicity as a general ethos. Downsizing and minimalism are keywords (re-)emerging in our popular lexicon in a big way, but many works which address it stay within the confines of home owner- or rentership. This makes seeking more specifically focused literature a challenge.

What I’ve done here, then, is compiled a list of great books based on those variety of factors which tend to comprise the home-free ethos. The result is a range of titles covering everything from fiction to memoir, journalism to essay, spanning topics such as economic reasoning and individual freedom to non-conformity and overcoming adversity. Embarking on a life of voluntary homelessness, or living home-free, is much more than giving up one’s traditional dwelling. It means embracing one’s independent beliefs in the face of critical backlash. So no matter if you’re a veteran of the home-free lifestyle or someone just wanting to learn more about it, these 10 books (and the honorable mentions which follow) are great ways to do just that.

Okay, here we go!:

10) Nickel & Dimed: On Not Getting By in America
by Barbara Ehrenreich

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9) Dharma Bums 

by Jack Kerouac

“Dharma Bums refusing to subscribe to the general demand that they consume production and therefore have to work for the privilege of consuming, all that cramp they didn’t really want anyway such as refrigerators, TV sets, cars, at least new fancy cars, certain hair oils and deodorants and general junk you finally always see a week later in the garbage anyway, all of them imprisoned in a system of work, produce, consume, work, produce, consume…”  

Jack Kerouac is an icon of the American beat movement, and his writings cannot be ignored by those wishing to understand the modern trend of consumer and housing counterculture. Dharma Bums is the best piece of literature I can think of that embodies the extreme of this antipathy towards popular thought about how to live one’s life, and while it may at times be unpalatable for those living more traditional lives, Kerouac paints a chillingly accurate picture of the struggle (and pure joy) of asserting one’s individuality in the face of enduring conformity. In fact, his fiction is based on members of the actual beat movement of the time, including Allen Ginsberg and Gary Snyder.

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8) Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail
by Cheryl Strayed

7) Time Was Soft There
by Jeremy Mercer

“Nobody has the answers. I don’t like people who pretend they do. Life is just the result of a dance of molecules.”

Jeremy Mercer’s memoir about him leaving his life behind in Canada to live in Paris, inevitably finding himself living among a small group of bohemian writers in the Shakespeare & Company bookstore. If ever there was a book that resembled a story of a man living where he worked, this one is it. Mercer’s abrupt decision to lead the home-free life gives unique insight into the routines of the urban home-free, from finding low-cost meals to redefining the meaning of leisure time. The milieu of Shakespeare & Co. characters are equally colorful, representing a broad range of folks who end up living in odd-spaces–and a bookstore is among the oddest of all.

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6) Life of Pi
by Yann Martel

 “You might think I lost all hope at that point. I did. And as a result I perked up and felt much better.”

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5) Into the Wild
by Jon Krakauer

 “I must be myself. I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, we shall be happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I must be myself. I will not hide my tastes or aversions.”
 

Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of those timeless thinkers, his name forever emblazoned on the Hall of Fame of free thinkers of our time. His essay Self-Reliance is an often quoted look into the  philosophy of individuality and the ways of the non-conformist. Emerson champions every individual as having his own genius, even if that genius goes unrecognized by his peers, and urging people to express themselves as they please regardless of public opinion. Perhaps my favorite, though, is his belief of taking time to one’s self to reflect, and how community–though important in and of itself–is at times an impediment to that reflection.

3) The Man Who Quit Money
by Mark Sundeen

“The people who had the least were the most willing to share. He outlined a dictum that he would believe the rest of his life: the more people have, the less the give. Similarly, generous cultures produce less waste because excess is shared, whereas stingy nations fill their landfills with leftovers.”
 

Perhaps no one embodies the spirit of home-free more than Daniel Suelo, the subject of Mark Sundeen’s The Man Who Quit Money. Sundeen’s book sputters at first, then gains steam as it soars through the countless starts and stops in the life of a man who has lived for well over a decade without spending a dime. Suelo is one of those rare men who walks the talk, wholeheartedly implementing his philosophy without a hiccup, living in the Utah wilderness just outside of Moab, foraging, bartering, and scavenging for life’s necessities. If it seems impossible to live the way Suelo does, Sundeen’s exposition does well to explain the arduous path on the way to the decision, shedding light on just how difficult it is for the healthy, intelligent, and well-adjusted among us to fully tap out of economic obligation and social expectation.

2) Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered
by E.F. Schumacher

“For the modern economist is very difficult to understand. He is used to measuring the “standard of living” by the amount of annual consumption, assuming all the time that a man who consumes more is “better off” than a man who consumes less. A Buddhist economist would consider this approach excessively irrational: since consumption is merely a means to human well-being, the aim should be to obtain the maximum of well-being with the minimum of consumption.”

I always wondered why I hated taking economics back in school. After reading this, I understand why. Schumacher’s entire thesis attacks the notion of this new “science” of money and how Western culture has embraced it so strongly above all other reason. Small is Beautiful brilliantly and patiently takes aim at the failures of greed and short-sightedness plaguing capitalist societies without condemning them all together. No norm is left unchallenged in the book, leaving the open-minded reader both disappointed in his fellow man and hopeful for his limitless capability for change. Small is Beautiful is a work of downsizing genius on a major scale and ethics on an even bigger one.

1) Walden
by Henry David Thoreau

 “Most men appear never to have considered what a house is, and are actually though needlessly poor all their lives because they think that they must have such a one as their neighbors have.”

This one’s a shocker, I know. Thoreau is the absolute icon of the modern voluntary simplicity movement, and though he did build himself a “home” on Walden pond, his writings lend clear support to anyone wishing to live (and sleep) outside the norm. The biggest knock on the text of Walden is its Victorian density, though through the sometimes-plodding meanderings the sympathetic reader regularly finds himself face-to-face with a line of pure brilliance, requiring frequent moments of reflection which further delay progress through the book. But there’s no need to rush through Walden anyway, as its prose has a way of leaving its reader wondering why he or she would be wanting to do anything but read anyway.

Honorable Mentions:

Day 1,141: Living the #Barnlife 2 Comments

#barnlife, alive and well.

Neigh!

A horse bellows behind me as I wring out a newly laundered thermal in the basin, shaking it out before draping it over the fence to dry. The sun hurries off behind the hills surrounding our desert horse ranch, educating me once again on the finer details of wash-by-hand laundry—do it earlier in the day.

I’ve been living here, in the Southern California desert, at the southernmost foothills of the San Bernardino Mountains, for a few days now, but already it feels like home. I arrived here this past weekend, taking a private room in a part of the ranch’s barn which has been converted into a living space. My goal has been to (finally) finish this beast of a book I’ve been working on since I moved out of the office in 2014—and arguably earlier, as the derivative of these pages is the online diary, dating back to 2012. But I’ve been picking up a few secrets along the way.

Including when to dry one’s laundry.

I may be a little hard on myself. Part of me knew better, wanting to get out and commandeer some detergent earlier in the day, but I kept getting sidetracked. Watching the birds flutter about. Convening with the horses. Doing actual writing. It’s just that time is a little soft here on the ranch. I suppose that’s why I came.

Mt. San Jacinto, as safely viewed from low elevation.

It isn’t my first time here. Back in the summer of 2014, I took a cottage up higher on the hill to assemble my first true draft of the book. I fell in love with the naked profile of Mt. San Jacinto to the south, admiring its contours in all lights, sneaking peeks at twilight and during thunderstorms, eager to glean reminiscences from my grueling summer of 2011 ascent of the thing via the famed Cactus to Clouds Trail. I was a bit more daring then, even though but a few turns of the calendar stand between me and the memory.

Now, the lofty summits I tackle are of my own imagination. Namely, this book.

They key to creating an in-barn living space is to HIDE THE FACT IT’S IN A BARN. This is achieved well here.

The accommodations I’ve chosen this time around are much more rustic than the last. The sleeping area is a four-bunk hole in the wall, attached to a small living space equipped with a couch, mini fridge, counter top, and a half bath off to the side. Bathing requires a walk to the lodge, where a separate full bathroom awaits, tucked away next to the gem of the property—an open-air Jacuzzi. I fully admit to having used this on a daily basis, despite not knowing exactly what the rules are about such a thing. But, like anything which allows me to lean back and count the constellations by the hairs on my head, I treat it with the utmost respect.

I’m no stranger to odd-space living, but this is a new one in my book. A welcome introduction to the ranch life, free from the obligation of actual ranching but with all the dung-scented, squeaky-wheelbarrow-wheel charm this hay-underfoot paradise has to offer. I may even have some ergonomics suggestions for my host, should she care to hear them out.

Catching the day’s last few clothes-drying rays.

Or I could choose to be like the rest of the living things on this property and stay quiet. I suppose that’s what I came here for anyway. And if I learn a thing or two about laundry in the meantime, so be it.

-TOH

Day 1,112: Add Cat-Sitter to My Resume No Comments

The report of a meow rings out behind me as I open the fridge and reach for a plastic container of food. The label calls for ocean whitefish with organic emulsified kale, kelp, and bok choy. I’m hungry as a grizzly in Spring, but this food’s not for me. No, for the first half of January I’ve been asked to cat-sit for a friend. And the cats always eat first.

This gig calls for 17 days of all-out, no-holds-barred feline supervision, complete with two meals per day, medicine administration, and daily cat litter changes. These cats are old, too, so in truth I’m just here to make sure they don’t visit Kitty Heaven on my watch. In cat years, these three gericatrics total 263 years, which gives them an average feline age of 83 years-old. In human years, the cats range from 14 to 22. So yes, Hobo’s got his work cut out for him.

And by work, I mean serving animals organic zucchini and beet greens. Is this really happening??

When I got here, Milo, the youngest (or second youngest? Shit, I didn’t really ask…) refused to eat. So I applied my Hobo Magic, isolating and supervising him during meals. Now, voila! The bastard eats. At least I can feel accomplished while I hermit away these first days of January.

I’ve limited my work schedule these first couple weeks of January to accommodate my time here at the house. I’m keeping myself unavailable for my part-time day gig, working with kids, while my evening shifts at the lounge are relegated to weekends. So between December 20 and January 15, I’ll have worked only 25 hours or so. Coupled with holiday expenses and a recent repair on my truck, this meant I had to dip into my savings a bit, but I plan to write some articles and pull a few extra work shifts later this month to make up for it.

This has the added Catholic-guilt effect of increasing my eagerness to create in the meanwhile. I’m working on pitches to a few major magazines and online news sources about home-free related content, as well as catching up on old blog posts and outlining a plan for a third, slightly more outrageous home-free living situation to be named later! My one non-Hobo project, a sizzle reel promoting a indie feature film I co-wrote, is being edited now by a third party and we expect to have completed in February. Also, I’m taking very seriously the issue of tackling the next draft of The Office Hobo: A Memoir, which I admit is far behind schedule. I can offer no legitimate justification for this delay, except to say that drafting a competent book is something I now regard with the utmost respect. Finally, the Home-Free docu-series which is in development with Brian Graden Media under the care of CAA is picking up steam again this month. As fortunate I am to have the distraction of being so far along in this process, I am still slapping my own wrist for not being further along with the book. Okay, I’ve self-castigated enough for now…

***I almost forgot!!! This past month, I celebrated my THIRD ANNIVERSARY of home-free living! I was so engrossed in my day-to-day, I failed to realize it at the time. The occasion has since passed and I can hardly believe it. Clearly I did not celebrate, but I hope to make good on that by re-dedicating myself to the project in the New Year and producing quality material for those interested in the lifestyle and my journey through it. This includes working to complete and make public the above projects at as high a level as possible, as well as take my notes and go back through the past six months to draft entries for what’s been going on in the life of The Office Hobo.

For now, it’s back to the cats. I think it’s time for their evening meal, and this one calls for free range bison with wakame seaweed and sage. What will I eat after? An embarrassingly simple plate of eggs and toast.

Eat well, y’all.

– TOH

Day 1,068: Apartment Searching in L.A. No Comments

There are few pursuits less rewarding than searching for affordable housing in Los Angeles.

It was with a measure of reluctance I dove into searching for an apartment again. As described in a previous post, I’d grown weary of the demands of home-free living for the hustling urban creative professional. A stable homestead seemed like a plausible solution, even if just for a temporary stay. Plus, with my social life taking on a recent and unexpected vibrancy as of late, I was more and more deflecting questions about where I lived. Subconsciously, I started wondering if the right rental situation might be out there for me after all.

After all, luck seemed to be on my side. I’d recently gotten a (negligible but notable) promotion at the lounge. My manager informed me that the Creative Artists Agency would be repping my latest docu-series concept, conceived and shot a few months earlier. And filming  for a separate sizzle reel for an independent feature I co-wrote went off without a hitch last month. All in all, momentum was behind me.

Oh, but how fleeting is one’s sanity when dealing with the Gods of Angelino rentals.

My search took me far and wide, spanning from the Pacific coast to downtown, including everything from studio apartment sublets and year-long 3-bedroom flats to an aging sailboat and a covertly advertised, ive-in-friendly music rehearsal space. Rents in Los Angeles have skyrocketed since I moved here in 2010. My old Venice Beach apartment’s “market value” soared 60% in the less than three years of my living there. Demand is so high, according to recent data, rent increases are set to double inflation for 2015, with an average rent for the entire LA area hovering around $2,000.

I knew I’d be in for a challenge. But I was curious, so I dove in. What’s the worst that could happen?

The following are five shining examples of the struggles of renting an affordable apartment in Los Angeles. Strap in, grab a drink, and enjoy the ride.:

1. Studio Apartment Sublet, Koreatown (advertised at $900/mth)

The ad called it a sublease. That’s the first promise that wasn’t delivered.

The apartment itself was a gem of a space. Vaulted ceilings with a high-on-character arched hallway leading from the door to the main room, separate openings to the right and left for a walk-in closet, bathroom, and kitchen, respectively. This was a second story corner unit, Southwest-facing with plenty of natural light. The building was a recently refurbished building in the heart of Koreatown. Electricity and gas included, according to Brandon. The place was mine if I wanted it. $900. Just fill out the application for Steven, the manager.

It was almost too good to be true.

Correction.

It was too good to be true.

First off, Steven was something of a hobbit. Not because he was ugly, but because I’d have no way of knowing. I’m pretty sure Steven was an invisible, mythical character, the kind tenants talk about in fireside chats during power outages, wondering who to contact because no one had ever gotten a hold of Steven, much less seen him.

“I’ve heard his mother was Eleanor Roosevelt’s daughter’s best friend.”

“No, no, no! He was an orphan, raised by a rogue tribe of Samoan kayakers off Baja California.”

“Someone told me… Steven? He isn’t a man at all. He’s actually… a Port Orford cedar tree.”

“Chamaecyparis lawsoniana?”

“Scout’s honor.”

You get the gist.

Brandon seemed like a nice guy. But his information was fucked. How did I learn this?

I entered the mythical underworld of the unknown. 

Days later, having had no luck reaching “Steven” (who, at this point, I was convinced was a cedar tree of some sort), I decided to go visit him in person. And when he didn’t answer his door, during his stated office hours, I waited. For twenty minutes. During which time I made some friends. One tenant came by to drop off a rent check. When asked about “Steven”, this man agreed that he was “elusive”. Yeah. Another girl showed up. A prospective tenant. A model.

Take your time, “Steven”.

After casually discussing world affairs with the model for a while (“Isn’t it crazy, this Trump thing?” “For real, interesting how the electorate’s adopted this reactionary philosophy with regards to both campaigns.” “Yeah. Like, so crazy.”), we decided to split up, i.e. Model Girl got a call from her boyfriend and I headed back to my truck. And it was there I waited. The time passed so slowly then. Seasons changed. Gray hairs sprouted. Empires rose and fell. And then…

There he was.

Steven.

Not the hobbit. Not the cedar tree. The real-life human.

The motherfucker snuck out of his office (I watched this) and stood around the corner from his office, smoking a cigarette. Addiction: The downfall of all epic shapeshifters. Nervously, I fumbled my belongings, grabbed my keys, and nearly tripped myself falling out of my truck to run up to meet him.

“Oh hi,” I said, affecting a calm stroll. “Are you Steven?”

Steven took a drag off his cigarette.

“Hmm,” he replied, nodding. You found me, his nod suggested. I’m impressed, young grasshopper.

“I’m here to submit an application for Brandon’s corner studio apartment with excellent natural light,” I said, perhaps too enthusiastically. I was feeling capable, triumphant.

This is where things get fuzzy for me. A series of disappointments follow. I’ll list them:

1. Brandon’s apartment was no longer available. Most likely. Another renter had been approved to rent the apartment.
2. There was a place below Brandon’s that was–surprise!–available for rent.
3. For either place, the rent was $925, not the advertised $900.
4. Gas was most definitely not included. Nor was electricity.
5. The application fee was $35. THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS.
6. Oh, the available apartment has bars on the windows.
7. And is directly above Steven’s apartment. Steven, who is always home. Because he never leaves. Because he’s a hobbit.

Spending nearly a grand a month on anything requires serious consideration when earning a normal First World salary. But when, at the point of sale, the seller magically upsells a more expensive, less attractive product for an exclusive offer because the seller is never available and you have his attention for this LIMITED TIME OFFER, your judgment gets skewed. And by “yours” I mean “mine.

I paid the shitty $35. So did the model.

By the next day, I had come to my senses. The shock of the experience had left a bitter taste in my mouth, so much so I could no longer stomach the extra costs–financial and otherwise–magically incurred by Steven’s presence. As soon as I made my mind up on the place, Steven messaged me.

“Your credit score is fantastic,” he said. “The place is yours if you want it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t rent from cedar trees.”

“Excuse me?”

Next.

2. 1 Bedroom in 2-Bedroom Apartment, West LA (advertised at $800)

Step one: Call to confirm apartment details.

Step two: Arrive to apartment.

Step three: Walk into room with bunk beds.

Step four: Be told I’d be sharing the room with another person.

Step five: Stare blankly at the renter, silent.

Step six: Walk out without another word.

Step seven: Boil in a stew of Alanis Morissette-like hate for the remainder of the afternoon.

3. Music Rehearsal Space & Crash Pad, East Hollywood (advertised at $650/mth)

The listing advertised a cryptic “month-to-month” lease on a “room in Hollywood” under Craigslist’s “sublets & temporary” section. The map’s marker indicated the room was located in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. I was feeling adventurous, so I figured I’d check it out.

I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to find that, upon calling, the address was not, in fact, in the cemetery. It was in a worse location, tucked behind a strip club along Santa Monica Boulevard in East Hollywood. I was directed to call “Charlie”, who would open the gate for me to tour the room.

Charlie, an aging rocker with a kind demeanor, welcomed me and walked us down the alley into a dark hallway. Drums sounded from an unknown source down the hall. Stale air filled my lungs, urging me to conserve my breaths. The hum of street traffic disappeared as we turned a corner, heading deeper into the building.

“Guns and Roses used to practice here,” said Charlie, proud.

“I’m guessing they don’t come by anymore,” I said.

“That was years ago,” he said, fumbling with his keys. “Here she is. Your room.”

The door opened without the key, leaning loose on its hinges. Charlie reached for the light, but the room remained dark, a forgotten nook in a maze of dust and grime. I took out my phone to serve as a flashlight as Charlie fiddled with the electricity. The space was barren. No windows. No ventilation. A rusty mountain bike sat in the corner of the space, leaning hard against the matte black walls. A single lofted platform rose over the wall in a recessed quadrant of the space. The lock on the door didn’t work. And apparently, neither did the light. Charlie threw up his hands in surrender.

“This is it, man,” he said. “She is what she is.”

I respected his candor.

“So you guys are cool with live-ins?” I asked.

Charlie paused, looking around as if there was something to see.

“We’re, you know, friendly to musicians and such trying to make it work,” he said.

I got the gist.

After viewing the crusty toilet/shower down the hall, I bid Charlie adieu. And with him the idea that I’d ever again entertain inhabiting such a shit-hole. Appreciative as I was for someone willing to bend the rules about living in odd spaces, my money would be better spent elsewhere. Like on a vacation from this awful apartment hunt.

4. 3-Bedroom Unit in Aging Complex, “Culver City Adjacent” ($800/mth each tenant)

Two friends of mine were independently searching for apartments, so I decided to join them together for a cooperative effort on a 3-bedroom. Understanding that we’d independently maintain our single-unit searches concurrently with our collective search, we began the search to find a place. Due to group desires, we centered our efforts around west-central Los Angeles. I led the charge on the search.

Craigslist. RadPad. Westside Rentals. Neighborhood cruising. We tried it all.

What’s most hardest about searching for apartments is in L.A. is simply getting in touch with the person posting the ad. One would think that responding to a post within 24 hours of it going live would result in a successful contact. But that’s not the case. Despite my best efforts at project the most articulate, trustworthy version of myself, I’d put my rate at successful call-to-appointment conversion at roughly 20%. Where were all these property managers? Didn’t they have a place to sell?

Apparently not.

By my measure, an orange traffic cone could make an adequate apartment manager in Los Angeles. Remember the guy from the Koreatown studio? I’m pretty sure he was part Orange Traffic Cone.

Anyway, I went to check out the place. It was fine, a little like what I might have expected to rent out in my college years–kind of communal, a little dingy, but fine. And at a shade under $800/each for a spot in stone’s throw of Culver City downtown (yay.) I figured I oughtta go for it.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

The property manager, still in his nursing scrubs, looked at me apologetically.

“You seem like a great fit,” he said. “But The Owner is very thorough. You and your two buddies will have to fill out an application.”

“No problem,” I said. “Anything we should be aware of?”

“Yeah, he’s big on income,” he said. “We’ve had a bunch of guys look at this place and he’s rejected them all. Income. Three times rent. I don’t know.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” I said.

I shook his hand and left, putting a call in to the crew to update them on the deal. They seemed confident–neither knew their credit score off hand, but both assured me they could meet the income requirement. We seemed like a shoe-in.

Filling out the application was another matter all together. The standard California rental application, as overseen by the California Association of Realtors (why not the California Association of Renters??), has an all-too-conspicuous “Residence History” section, asking for addresses and dates of previous residences. To me, this was the equivalent of a criminal history entry for a convicted felon or a gender section for a transgender person. How was I supposed to explain away my lack of physical addresses for the past 2-3 years?

The purpose of this, of course, is to establish a coherent rental history, where the applicant can be verified, through a rigorous background check, as a reliable tenant. Of course, as a renter I have always been a reliable tenant. I’ve never missed a rent payment, never bounced a check, never received even the first warning along the path to eviction. Hell, on all but one occasion I’ve received my full security deposit upon move-out–even the exception was when a landlord suggested we apply our deposit to the last month’s rent.

But now, being honest about my rental history would mean leaving a gap that would leave The Owner (His Highness) to make assumptions about my background. Namely, my inability to pay. Not my unwillingness to engage in the system for a while.

A million options crossed my mind. I settled on the least painful–overemphasize my stay in Calabasas and input a friend’s address and name (as manager) to cover the gap. An ethical faux pas, to be sure, but not one that I believed misrepresented my ability to be and history as a responsible tenant.

When we submitted the application, the manager in the nurse’s scrubs told me ours was one of four applications in for the place. He told us we’d know by Wednesday.

On Thursday, he said we didn’t get the place. Our application had been rejected.

Why?

“Income,” he said.

Whatever the fuck that means.

Weren’t we above the “3 times rent” threshold? My friends were as flabbergasted as I was. For me, this was the most deflating moment of the search. I’ve never been rejected for any willing purchase in my life. I was ready to throw in the towel. It all seemed like a colossal waste of time, and for surprisingly little money-for-benefit reward. My friends, now desperate to find housing quick, have since settled on less-than-desirable places.

Me? Not so much.

5. 1965 Cal Jensen Sailboat, Marina del Rey (asking $3,500 + slip fees, registration, and whatever else might need fixing)

Why the fuck wouldn’t I look at a sailboat?

At this point, living atop potentially volatile ocean waters–susceptible to inclement weather and high seas, of which I had zero experience save for visiting my friend Charles’ sailboat a few weeks prior–seemed like a great idea. Dealing with a competitive, over-inflated rental market was hell on Earth; yet, a long history of well-documented mentally unstable people (Francisco Pizarro? Captain Ahab? That one alcoholic, coke-headed cruise ship captain?) can learn to sail a shitty boat. How hard could it be.

So as soon as a friend suggested in a Facebook post that her old coworker was selling a boat, I was all in. Floating Living Space, here I come.

I sped on over to the marina on Halloween day to see the booty–a 50-year-old sailboat going for next to nothing, as far as active sailing vessels go. It was a 28-feet Cal Jensen, the younger sister of the award winning 40-footer of the same ilk, made famous by Robert Redford’s film “All is Lost”. I brought my friend Charles along to help me appraise its value. Meilani met us in the parking lot and took us aboard.

The outside of the boat was in excellent shape for its age. Aside from a cracked window or two, the (name boat part here) was fully intact and painted, and the (name other boat part here) had been refurbished years prior, matching the (name sail-jib contraption thingy) in both color and style. I was impressed.

“Shall we tour the interior?” Meilani asked.

She opened the portal to the hold and we were greeted by a waft of musty air that I immediately recognized as… mold.

All in all, the interior was fine. The well-apportioned kitchen space fit nicely across from the table-turned-sleepspace, and the toilet nestled adequately between the foreroom and the bedroom in the bow. Space-wise, it was a slam dunk. And kitch-wise, I couldn’t resist the appeal.

But the exposed, aging hull left lots to be desired, and the worse-for-the-wear of items from the rusting faucet to the poorly functioning toilet reminded me that this boat was a fixer upper. Plus, the mold. The mold!

Ultimately, the sailboat, though attractive in concept, was too far a leap of faith for me at this time. The commitment of customizing a new space I could handle. But learning to conquer an entire new surface of the Earth?

Another time.

CONCLUSIONS:

Apartment searching sucks buttocks.

Or to put it more eloquently, finding affordable housing in Los Angeles requires an attitude of submission. To the faulty “science” of market value. To the circus of maladies inherent in finding reason in chaos. To the complicit nature of the general populace. Each situation was increasingly more unnerving, leaving me to wonder what was worse: landlords’ whimsical strategies and price gouging or renters’ willingness–and in many cases desperation–to reward them by paying.

As time wore on, my search became more of an exercise in curiosity than a serious quest to find a place. If anything, it reaffirmed two things. One, my belief in the merits of the home-free lifestyle for those of us less than eager to submit to the chaos, choosing instead to direct our passions elsewhere, for personal enrichment or economic prosperity. And two, my faith in my own resolve, not just in circumventing rent while focusing on my pursuits–as for at least a short time I was strongly considering doing so–but in refusing to reassert my resolve blindly. I’d been curious about renting again, so I checked it out. Big surprise, it’s not all that attractive. Even in this revised life context of mine.

So I’m renewing my vows, in a way, to the tiny life. Eager to see where the coming months and days take me.

One thing’s for certain, I’ll have a heck of a lot more time to enjoy them now that I won’t be spending the time earning money to pay rent.

-TOH

Day 1,015: #vanlife issues One Comment

My return to full-time urban trucklife couldn’t have been less smooth.

Thanks to a bike thief attempting to steal my locked-up ride earlier this summer, I’ve grown reluctant parking the thing outside overnight.

The problem is that, save for Dawn’s garage in Calabasas, I no longer have a storage unit. Being that I really want the exercise, convenience, and youthful joy of taking my road bike to the streets, I have little option but to lock it up outside overnight… or sleep alongside it. Inside my camper. At risk of admitting my own absurd level of commitment to an idea, I’ll post a photo of the tight squeeze below.

Cozy quarters.

Some might think this is a little ridiculous. And that’s not wholly inaccurate. But let me provide a little background. First, I’m accustomed to sleeping in small spaces, and not just in the truck itself, but in single-man backpacking tents. These are the rough equivalent of cocoons, with little “wiggle room”, as if one could spread out in the mummy-esque sleeping bag anyway. So there’s that. Additionally, the low-level PTSD of waking up to a thief stealing property–your property–within feet of your sleepspace leaves plenty of room for bumps in the night to turn into alarm bells. Having tried unsuccessfully to sleep soundly with my bike locked to a sign post directly outside my truck, with any odd clink or clank rising me to attention, led this odd bedfellow to seem preferable to no sleep at all.

Indeed, for the first two nights of this underbike arrangement, I slept like a baby. Clearly this wasn’t a sustainable situation, but I was busy, packing in some extra work shifts this week, so on night three I decided to load my bike into the back and sleep cozily with my aluminum two-wheeled lover. Clinks and clanks completely ignored. It was the soundest sleep I’d had since leaving Calabasas.

So sound, in fact, that I drifted into a deep REM-cycle dreamland, kicking through clouds of calm.

Kicking.

Kicking!

Actually fucking kicking. 

I woke up to a searing pain flashing across my lower leg. I reached for a flashlight, only to look down and see that I was bleeding. A gash sliced through my shin. I had been sleeping so well, I twitch-kicked the gears of my handlebars. Ouch.

The next fifteen minutes were spent cleaning up the wound. The very solution to my sleep had become the reason my slumber was interrupted.

Camo duct tape helps sooth my ailing wound.

The irony was not lost on me. At least I could appreciate that.

Within that two-week period, I was also attacked by mosquitoes (which at first I thought were bedbugs–thankfully I was wrong), nearly overslept work (which I never do) due to a failed alarm, and kept up late night by two men sharing not-so-discreet pleasures IN THE STREET. Dead serious. For all the smack vehicular dwellers get for their behavior, it is the general population that I’ve seen committing the most disturbing of acts on the public streets in/around their cars. Why these men chose this street to engage in public sodomy I have zero clue. But I can tell you it was one of the most disturbing things I’ve seen on the streets of Los Angeles.

Disturbing enough to drive me to the Craigslist classifieds and consider the rental market. As discussed in a recent post, having a stable space to write 24 hours a day is a serious pull. And with my writing partner having secured the funds to shoot a promotional trailer for our feature film next month, I’ll need the stability. As much as I enjoy the home-free lifestyle, the mosquito attacks, dreamland trauma, and amorous exhibitionists have tested my resolve. But is it all as bad as the specter of egregious rent payments?

The saga continues…

-TOH