Street Life (Part 1)

Street Life (Part 1)

A Story by Judas Hammer
"

Still working but now homeless he was forced to a shelter

"

Street Life (part 1)

 

Long Beach Transit Journals

 

Written on the 61 Bus from Bixby Knolls to Downtown and the 103 from Lakewood to Atlantic Ave: Via Cell phone

 

 

To the shelter in long beach? Downtown: the one everyone told him about. He had fought it for two years always telling himself he would never stay in a shelter but there he was. He had taken the Blue line to the Anaheim station, walked a few blocks and stopped in front if a long brick building. The door had iron bars and a speaker box to the left. The early afternoon sun struck his shoulders as beads of sweat formed on his ruddy forehead. He was tired. Tired from staying up all night getting three hours worth of refills in the Dennys on Wardlow, while counting down the hours, until the Starbucks opened and he could steal a couple hours of sleep in the back of the cafe. His feet were torn up and blistered from the constant meandering. Up and down Atlantic. Up and down Carson. Up and down Long Beach Blvd with cosmic thoughts of making it to the next day. Blocking out the fact of ‘yes’ he was homeless. Yet he was working. He had a job but the Curry infused motels, where the desk clerk from New Deli scanned one with such distain but gladly took the money. Laughing all the way to the seven-armed god to thank them for destitute vagabond with horrible credit to fleece. Spoiling humans ripe for foreign blunder. So they could send their kids to the local state university to be all-inclusive Yankee white collar.

Those Asian vampires took all his bread so now it was the street or shelter and the streets of Long Beach had taken its pound of flesh.

He pressed a small black button.

"Hello."

"Yes can I help you?” Shot back a muffled male voice.

"I was sent down here to get a bed"

"Who sent you?"

"Lou sent me."

The door buzzed and he opened it, walked inside and approached the front counter. He’d been there before seeking hotel vouchers but was rebuffed and sent back into the street.

They commanded all his movement. The God complex was thick and he felt the wait of their condensing attitudes and already doubted this decision. They almost sent him back outside but instead let him sign on the list for the shelter.

He sat in the rows of plastic chairs set up in the large, dim lobby with the old model TV in the corner broadcasting the afternoon news.

Eventually, a pretty, dark hair Latina with a curvy build came down from the upstairs. Theirs eyes meet and he remembered her from before. She gave him a slight smile but he was in no mood to return it still loopy from being awake twenty-four hours straight.

"Why are you homeless? Drug? Alcohol?"

He pondered that question for years to the point of madness. He was not an addict or a raging drunk. His drinking had caused chaotic moments and poor choices but never lost him property or employment: just sleep and some bruises here and there.

"No I'm not." He said defensively as an angry pot boiled in his chest.

"Then why are you homeless?"

 She was waiting for some magic moment of self-revelation but it only made him seethe and regret the choice even more.

"Just bad luck."

"Do you work?"

"Yes I’m an educator."

On the wrong side of living.

His life seemed to strike a cord if interest. She went on to tell him a small snippet of her life as a recovering alcoholic, hoping to find a connection.

There was none.

He pictured her with head in a toilet filling it with that night’s dinner. He pictured her at work reeking of whiskey with her head face down catching catnaps in a cubicle.

 She explained that the long building was part of an in house Twelve Step Program and she could get him in but not for a week.

"Fill this out."

She handed out a questionnaire and exited the small room where she took him away from earshot of the others after he explained his occupation.

"Okay there’s a van outside to take you to the emergency shelter in Wilmington. The Beacon House."

He submitted needing to sleep. He was tired and his feet felt cut with razors. What's the worst that can happen? You can do week.

She escorted him to the outside where a small, older, white van with the name Beacon House on the side waited parked at the curb.

 

Chat conversation end

Edited in Lakewood, Ca.

 

 

 

 

 


© 2014 Judas Hammer



Author's Note

Judas Hammer
Comments please...

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Featured Review

It is frustrating to me that a writer with your caliber, your grit is so underreviewed here. this is good stuff. Its real, its visual and the dialogue is there but people don't stop to comment. they could learn from you. I do. The whole bit about him seeing the woman puking - that was awesome story telling.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Judas Hammer

10 Months Ago

Thank you. You keep me motivated!



Reviews

It is frustrating to me that a writer with your caliber, your grit is so underreviewed here. this is good stuff. Its real, its visual and the dialogue is there but people don't stop to comment. they could learn from you. I do. The whole bit about him seeing the woman puking - that was awesome story telling.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Judas Hammer

10 Months Ago

Thank you. You keep me motivated!
Story is great, I truly enjoyed reading it. Keep up the good work.

Posted 2 Years Ago


Judas Hammer

2 Years Ago

Thank you sooooo much
The feeling of homeless brings a staggering sensation to a man. Its like uprooted trees ... skies falling down ... or a sense that everything is unreal. We figure its impossible ... it contradicts what a man is ... or ought to be ... not after being carried in the bosom of his mother and thereafter in the embrace of society. So why does it happen? It sometimes feels like we ought to take a momentary break from all that ... and ponder on the possibilities. Nice write ...

Posted 2 Years Ago


Judas Hammer

2 Years Ago

Thank you. That's a great review. These are questions I will ask myself through out the journey...
Great read. I like this series.

Posted 2 Years Ago


Judas Hammer

2 Years Ago

Thank you. That means a lot.
The story was amazing. You brought to life every action and thoughts. I like the description of the night before and needing to rest. I like the interview and the anger felt. Thank you my friend for sharing the outstanding story.
Coyote

Posted 2 Years Ago


Judas Hammer

2 Years Ago

Thanks again Coyote!
Coyote Poetry

2 Years Ago

You are welcome.
What's up Judas, long time no see. You're still writing awesome stories man. Your stories are always full of strong detail and imagery. I always enjoy your stories because they always take place in SO-CAL. being from Los myself it feels good. This time around you were in Lakewood, well I've been staying in Downey for sometime now, hahahaha, so that was cool. I look forward to reading more of your work, it's been a while.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Rob Santana

2 Years Ago

Hahaha, oh yeah I know exactly where the "one ways" are. Yeah still doing the music but it's diffic.. read more
Judas Hammer

2 Years Ago

I can't wait to hear. When youre done send me a link.
Rob Santana

2 Years Ago

No doubt bro...

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Added on December 25, 2014
Last Updated on December 27, 2014

Author

Judas Hammer
Judas Hammer

The City of Angeles, CA



About
I like to write, live in La and write and make short films. and more..

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