protecting?

Page Thirty-one

sat 11 oct 2008 Living on the canal in Turners Falls

I've been asked to leave the laundromat (though I was behaving myself there in a perfectly civilized fashion), so now I'm camped out on the canal. People who've known me for years in this town know that I don't drink or use street drugs or commit violent acts or steal, but no one can see their "Christian" selves clear to giving me a spare room or even a couch. To wit: "Going to church doesn't make you a christian anymore than standing in a garage makes you a car" (@scrapbookallday).

It's seven months today since various people destroyed my life. To this very moment, I continue to be homeless and to live with the likelihood (in view of things that Matthew Lacoy told me) that I am some kind of bait. When I started this blog in April, Matthew hadn't yet said any of these things. I thought that the DMH sitting back and delining to help me was the only bureaucratic millstone I was carrying. It was only in late June that I figured out there was something criminal going on, and Matthew, when questioned, admitted it right on the sidewalk. From that day on, he had little bit and pieces of other ugly things to tell me.

Update 7 Oct 2009: Some days, on some journals, I could mention things like exactly where I was sleeping in the great outdoors, and other days I couldn't. I was too ashamed. And once again I'll explain why I wasn't looking for my own place to live, why I'd stopped doing that in early July. Once Matthew told me I was being protected by people from Burlington, Vermont from another set of people who wanted to do me some serious dirt, I stopped looking for a place to live. All I'd ever known about this kind of "protection" was that you couldn't choose your own place to live: THEY had to choose your location. I was still waiting for them to put me where they wanted me, and Matthew knew it. I kept telling him to get his friends to get the lead out, as I was sick of having no apartment.


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