The Homeless Writer

Five weeks, 12 hours and five minutes from now my lease expires and I don’t where I am going to live.

Those numbers might not be entirely accurate because I didn’t confirm their validity but they are close enough.

That is ‘cuz I know the lease ends the day before the 19 and after the 17th, but don’t worry about whether old Jack Steiner will have a place to hang his hat because if need be he’ll knock on that wacky Shmata Queen’s door and tell her to make room.

But chances of that happening are pretty slim because I have been quite active in searching for a new joint to call home.

The Homeless Writer

The good news is I have lots of options for where to live and I am actively looking into new places to call The Ponderosa.

Put in some applications in a few different spots and am waiting to hear back, kind of excited and nervous.

Got one in particular that I think could be very cool, but it is a bit of a stretch financially. Not a horrible one, but initially it might be a little challenging.

So I signed up today to be Lyft driver.

Did so based upon the recommendation of a friend who said he averaged about $200 a week in spare cash and figured I’d try it out.

That is the kind of easy extra income I can go for and I figure if I hate it there is limited risk.

And if I like it, well it is guaranteed blog fodder and something that I can do as a way to help make some luxuries possible.

Not that I need all that much because I don’t.

But I tell the kids that if you really want something you will figure out how to work for it.

Anyhoo, when you have moved as often as I have you soon learn to care much less about where and what than who is with you.

Who I Am Meets Who I Was

I completed another circuit around the sun last Tuesday which means I am 48 and that much closer to middle age.

Kind of peculiar and surreal to think about how young I feel versus what I see in the mirror.

Strange to stare at pictures of my nephew and his prom date (kid is a junior, but he took a senior) and to reconcile it against reality.

He won’t appreciate my saying I sometimes think of him as being this little kid or understand how my eyes sort of narrowed when I think about prom.

I skipped mine and haven’t a single regret but I do remember how my girlfriend chose to celebrate and wonder if I ought to be the good uncle and check in with him about certain things.

Not because I want or need details but to make sure he is being smart and that he doesn’t get himself into trouble.

I did a very good job of keeping my parents out of my business and know they didn’t have a clue how active I was until I was in college.

Call that a thinly veiled reference for having played with fire a little bit because I was dumb and so were some of my friends.

I do know a couple of guys who have children who are about 30 or so now. Did I mention we graduated high school in ’87.

****

Anyway, I have been thinking a bit about how good Texas has been to me and how fucking hard a lot of this adventure has been.

Been thinking about how hard I have been working to make it easier for my children and to do something that will help them immeasurably.

None of that provides you with specific details about who I was and how it compares to who I am now so you might wonder about the subhead.

It is really a placeholder for me and a time marker that will help me remember this moment and that is important.

The blog is a chronicle of time and events, a place that helps me see where I have been and figure out where I am going.

And those Whitman quotes, well consider them to be significant and substantive words I live by.

I’d write more but I keep getting interrupted and am taking that as a sign it is time to publish, sign off and walk.

If you are a new reader and interested in seeing more good stuff try one of these:

• A Letter To My Children-2011
• Mean Girls Come From Mean Moms
• Some Things I’ll Teach My Children (Updated)
• The Best Cover Letter….Ever
• One Slightly Used Pump For Sale
• Spit Or Swallow Still Means You Have Time To Blog

And

The Flying Clown