Creative Life: 12/3/2018

Last week, I started a GoFundMe Campaign to get myself off of the streets and into business.  At this point in my life, I have one reasonable way to make a living again.  Art and writing.  That's it.  That's Plan A.  There is no Plan B.  I don't have to live my life by any of your standards.

Why don't I get a "real" job, some people ask me.  Even more people think it, but don't ask.  One, I don't have a valid ID at the moment, so that's not an option immediately.  Even when I get an ID, it's still not a viable option.  There's no job I could get here, in this region of the country, where I could ever make a decent living again.  I tried it.  I spent ten years of pure, living Hell, in North Carolina, unable to get ANY job.  I applied for over 140 jobs online, and simply never heard back, except from one Wendy's restaurant.  When I interviewed, the manager said she could use me part time.  A week later, when I went back after not hearing from her, she had changed her mind and didn't bother to tell me.

OK.  Lesson learned.  I'm not going to find a good paying job in NC.  So I started working to create my own job with my artwork.  I started, LITERALLY, without a dime to my name.  I just had some art supplies and a lame laptop.  After being a taxi driver for years, which is actually a small business, not a job (taxi drivers don't get paychecks), I think like a businessperson.  I don't think like an employee anymore.

I started with nothing, I had to become homeless escape a highly toxic environment, and I lived in a tent all last winter, got fucked over by several people, and still managed to build a small, but steady income selling original art.  Then came more drama, and it became apparent that I would not be able to build a decent income in that area.  A bullshit arrest and an mob with baseball bats outside my tent one night, threatening to beat the fuck out of me, proved that making a decent living in North Carolina would never happen.  I gave it one last go, but I had to escape.  I mean "escape" literally.  North Carolina does not like intelligent, free thinkers, and it does not like creative people.  Fine.  I don't like North Carolina.  So I left.

I landed here in Richmond by accident, and got stuck here.  It's a pretty cool city, there's a huge group of art scenes here, murals all over, and a cool  BMX scene.  That's most of my criteria.  This place need s serious skatepark, but that's another issue.

Can I make a living here?  I don't know yet.  But I'm finally able to BEGIN really working in that direction.  I've been homeless for four months here, and it's been tough.  I nearly died in the hospital from a drug reaction when I went in for a leg infection.  It was a legit accident, no one knew I had an allergy to that medicine.  But it still sucked.  I partially threw my back out the other day, and spent Saturday evening sleeping outside in a ton of pain.  Hey, shit happens.  I keep going.  I'm feeling better now, managed to loosen the back up for the most part.

I finally got to a point where I could begin to plan beyond the day in front of me.  I started a GoFundMe campaign for $10,000 in six months.  Let me be absolutely clear, I'm not asking for ten grand in donations. It's a sales goal.  IF I can do $10,000 in sales in six months, I SHOULD be able to make the transition to a fairly stable small businessman with a place to live.  That's what it takes.  There is no house of guys I know where I can rent a room for $200 a month and get back on track cheaper.  I have to earn it, and that's all there is to it.  It takes thousands of dollars to go from the streets to my own place.  Since I started that crowdfunding campaign, I've made some sales, got a working phone from a friend that I need to learn how to use, and written most of a small book I'm going to sell.  That's in five days.  It's a good start.  Things are looking up.

But suddenly people are popping out of the woodwork to "help" me.  I shut down one completely hypocritical Facebook preacher right away, and then got called an "antichrist" and a piece of shit.  By an online preacher.  Another person, one much more likely to be helpful, is trying to get me into a housing program.  It takes MONTHS of wasting time and jumping through hoops to get a ghetto apartment through those.  I'll look into it, but it's unlikely they will have anything to help me.  We'll see.

I NEED TO SELL THE SHIT I MAKE.  Period.  Not to the whole world.  Not to everyone.  Just to a fairly small number of people who like what I do.  $10,000 sounds like a lot, but every single one of you reading this will spend far more than $10K to survive in the next six months.  It may not be money you earned, but you'll spend more than $10K.

I've been fighting for survival since my bank account was inexplicably shut down a couple weeks after 9/11 happened, 17 fucking years ago!  I'm still here.  Don't suddenly pop into my life and pretend you're saving my ass.  If you can legitimately help, cool.  If not, have a nice day.  Go on your way and do your thing.

The more this bullshit happens of people popping out of nowhere, suddenly worried that I'm homeless, the more it seems that Richmond IS NOT the place I need to be.  I'm on the fence already.  I can hop a bus to Southern California for less money that a cheap motel room here for a week.  And rent out there is no more expensive than it is here.  A "weekly" motel or a decent room in an apartment is about the same both places.  If I'm able to make a living in Richmond doing my thing, cool.  If it becomes apparent that I won't be able to, then I'll move back home to SoCal.  That's where I'm at.

Next day...  Hmmm... My back was jacked up, just had to vent, I guess.