Focus Daniel-san

If you're from Generation X, you know this clip.  Millennials, you've probably saw this a bunch, too, growing up.  Mr. Miyagi doesn't actually say, "Focus, Daniel-san," but that's how most of us remember it.  This past week was a time for me to find focus.

After almost six months living on the streets since I landed here in Richmond, a friend from the BMX days loaned me enough to get a room for a week.  Many of you reading this would balk at the thought of spending seven nights in a low budget, weekly motel, but for me it felt luxurious.  Seven nights sleeping in a real bed, which was actually really comfortable, able to sleep when I felt like it and get up when I felt like it.  Being warm for seven days straight was epic.  Being able to take a shower when I felt like it.   24/7 wifi.  A microwave.  These things most all of you take for granted, are amazing when, like me, you've been without them for a long period.  But most of all, I slept knowing I would actually be alive the next morning (barring an alien invasion, zombie apocalypse, or well placed meteor).  That's one thing I haven't experienced for seven days in a row, for well over a year. 

I had a whole bunch of drawing, writing, and blogging I wanted to get done.  But I quickly realized just how exhausted and physically beat down I was from the time on the streets.  So I didn't get near as much done as I wanted to, especially the first 2 or 3 days.  The one thing I did get accomplished was to step back from the stress of day to day survival, and figure out where I need to focus for the coming months.  It may not sound like much, but it's huge in my situation.  Homelessness has many different levels, and micro levels, which most people don't realize.  I landed here in a completely strange city, with $3 in my pocket, six months ago, with a back pack and shoulder bag, with a few clothes and art supplies, not knowing a single person. 

Survival on the streets starts at the hourly level.  Where can I go to the bathroom?  Where can I sit?  Where can I sleep?  What's the best way to scrounge up money to eat?  Where can I get out of the rain?  Where can I sleep?  Will I get jumped in this part of town? 

It started with one question after another, minute by minute, hour after hour.  I wasn't even looking to the next day, except for the weather.  To survive homelessness, I've learned to try to stabilize one little aspect at a time.  Humans are creatures of habit, and when you are suddenly in a situation where you don't have any habits, because every basic necessity needs to be met, every question "normal" people never think about, needs to be answered.  Weather, also, becomes critically important immediately.  When I got here it was about staying cool and trying to keep hydrated in 90-95 degree (F) heat.  Then came rain, wind, lightning, cold, cold rain, and I even spent 17 1/2 hours outside in a snowstorm that dumped 11 inches.  It has, by no means, been easy.

My life has been six months of struggling to meet one basic need, get it somewhat stable, and then immediately move on to another.  When you're homeless, questions like, "Should I buy a $1 McChicken sandwich and a drink for lunch?  Or should I buy new trash bags, and spend $4, to keep all my stuff dry?  The trash bags won and I skipped a meal.  Obscure things take on near life or death importance. 

On top of that, my best chance at getting back to making a living is writing and art, which the majority of people (who don't realize Etsy, Shopify, and similar things exist) think is completely stupid.  If I could actually get a job that paid enough to get me back on my feet, I would have, long ago.  Yet I managed to sell some drawings, find a little work, and scrape by.  But taking a step back to really set a direction and make some goals, beyond surviving another night, just wasn't possible until now. 

So that, along with just resting and healing my body and mind, were the thing I accomplished this last week.  I thought long and hard about what makes sense and will help me build a viable business with my art, blogging, and writing.  Yes, I put blogging and writing in two different categories, blogging is a very specific type of writing, and I need to spend more time doing other types, but keep blogging as well. 

So here's what's coming, providing I manage to survive the cold nights and sketchy weather ahead, which is definitely not a sure thing.  I'm going to stop doing so many original drawings of rock stars, and selling the originals.  I have three drawings lined up, now and in the near future, after that my original 18" X 24" drawings will cost $350.  That's actually just above minimum wage for the time I put into them, but they're worth it at this point. 

I'm going to do more smaller drawings, from 8 1/2" X 11" to 11" X 17", and sell copies and high quality prints when I can.  I'm going to do more BMX drawings soon.  Several people have asked about those. 

I'm going to get the zines you guys have already ordered shipped as soon as I can.  I'm really sorry about the delay.  Since my sleeping bag and blankets got stolen (trashed, confiscated, whatever term you want to use), I have to use money to buy new ones right now, that I'd rather use to ship your zines out.  They WILL get to all of you who've ordered them.  I will do more big, fat zines in the Freestyle BMX Tales series, as well, maybe one every 2 or 3 months. 

I just started a new writing project, basically my first novel, which will be published as a blog, free to everyone.  It will have some BMX stuff in it, but is largely a vehicle to express the worldview I've come to, which was influenced by things like BMX and skating, but also by the hundreds of books I've read, and insights I've had along the way. We're in a really crazy era in human history, not just right now, but our whole lives.  I have a lot of ideas on where society is headed, and why things are so chaotic.  This fiction story will attempt to get those ideas across without being completely boring. 

So that's the general plan.  I've got a ton of ideas.  I've put many of them on the back burner in order to focus on what I've realized is most important in my week of taking a step back looking at the bigger picture.  Thanks for reading, and I'll do my best to keep putting pretty cool stuff out into the world.

It's winter, I'm homeless, and my sleeping bag and blankets were stolen

This kind of thing happens.  Usually it doesn't make the news.  The streets are no joke.  Shelters are usually worse because of the drama, theft, and lack of freedom to take any kind of action that might really help you get back on track.  Homeless shelters are really just Club Meds for alcoholics and junkies, they're not for anyone trying to rebuild their life.  The idea that homeless shelters work is one of the many popular myths about homelessness.

There are more spare bedrooms and empty buildings in the U.S. than there are homeless people.

After spending a few nights in a room, I made it to me sleeping spot today to find that everything is gone.  The really nice, Coleman, cold weather sleeping bag a local man loaned me.  The two moving blankets I've been using since my second, "cheap" sleeping bag was stolen.  A box with a sleeping bag liner, a warm weather sleeping bag I was given, a fleece blanket some random person left me, and a few other items, it's all gone.  Also gone is the cardboard I'd lined the little area with which provided a great deal of insulation, especially on the many sub 35 degree nights I've spent there. 

Last Monday, after surviving a 14 degree night sleeping (sort of) on the porch of an abandoned building I asked a friend form the 1980's BMX, world, Alma Jo in Texas, if she could loan me enough to get a room for a couple of nights to escape the coldest weather.  She's helped me a lot over the last few weeks.  A few other people have helped me at key times this winter, as well.  I really hated to ask her, but my fingers were damn near frostbitten that morning just in the time it took to fold up and wrap my sleeping bag and blankets in trash bags, and then walk to the local fat food place I go in the mornings.  It took a solid ten minutes of serious pain for my fingers to come back after the walk against a 15-20mph headwind in around 15-16 degrees. 

Alma Jo stepped up and loaned me enough for a week in cheap motel I stay at when I can.  For 5 1/2 months straight, I've been struggling to survive day to day, and then try to start building a viable income with my art an d writing.  It's put my street survival skills to the ultimate test.  Tiny bit by tiny bit, I've made progress, slowly and steadily.  But months of sleeping outside in all kinds of weather, from 85 -90 degrees down to 14, in wind, rain, and even the 11 inch snowstorm, I struggled alone to make it to the next day.  But it's really eaten down my body.  The first two nights in the motel room, I was exhausted, and slept far more than usual.  But I stayed warm, and started to recover a bit but I'll need weeks to really get back to any level of health when I can finally get a roof permanently. 

So I did a bunch of drawing, and finally stepped back from the stress of survival mode, and really thought about what I need to do to continue rebuilding my life.  There's no easy answer in many cases, including mine.  On one hand, I haven't bee able to get any kind of "normal" job in years, for whatever reasons.  But at the same time, I've been sleeping on this porch, open on one side, and every 2 or 3 nights,  for over three months now, I've woke up late at night and heard people talking nearby.  It's always the same conversation, "That homeless guy over there has the highest IQ in the country, it's 198."  Yes, I know how crazy that sounds.  No I've never been told my IQ is that high.  I took an IQ test in 7th grade, and I scored 132, that's the only IQ I know of.  But I most likely took an IQ test when I was going to join the Marines Reserves in early 1985.  To me, at this point, an IQ score means nothing.  It's one score, on one test, on one day, 33 years ago.  That appears to be the score that, for some reason, people here have been told a rumor I scored ridiculously high on.    All that score meant, back then, when I was probably suffering from Asperger's Syndrome, and good at taking tests, but not much else, is that I was good at certain intellectual puzzles.  It's got almost nothing to do with real life.  And it appears a great deal of harm has come to me over the last 20 years, just because of that one, high test score.  If I had any idea what taking those military entrance exams would lead to, I would have stopped halfway through and set down my pencil.  Yes, I know how crazy this sounds.  But the reality of my life is much, much crazier.  It's been a really wild ride, with lots of outside influence on my life, for the last 17-18 years.

So on one hand, I'm scraping by day by day, going to sleep every night not knowing if I'll live to see the next day.  That's just a normal level of stress on the streets.  I have dozens of stories now, that no one has heard, of the nights I nearly didn't survive.

To be honest, I've been pissed off at myself that I haven't got more done while living in the "luxury" of a cheap motel the last few nights.  But I realized just how physically beaten down I was, and I've slowed down to heal up as much as I can, knowing I'd be back on the little porch for many more cold nights in a couple of days.  I've also spent the time in the room brainstorming my path back to making a decent living.  I haven't written any blog posts as I found the things  I need to put more focus on, and let go the things distracting me from my core strengths and talents. 

So I come back across town today, and find that the sleeping bag and blankets that have helped me survive, have been taken.  Just like the bag with all my spare clothes was, and just like my second sleeping bag was, all at the same spot.  So now I need to panhandle all day today, tomorrow, and Monday, just to buy new blankets so I can go back to sleeping out.  At the same spot.  I sure as hell don't have the several days it would take to find a new spot.  There are a whole bunch of things to consider when finding a spot to sleep when you're homeless.  Unless you're drunk and just don't give a fuck.  I definitely don't have the time to start looking now. 

This is the kind of shit that happens, every day, in nearly every city, to homeless people.  There are actually people in this world who are so fucking evil they will steal the sleeping bags, from a homeless person, in the winter.  Why?  Because they just don't want to see a homeless person, and be reminded of the reality of our society, in their area of town.  Most of those people go to church every Sunday, that's another thing I've learned as a homeless man over the years. 

So, I've got two more warm and dry nights, and then shit gets real again, and the slow progress I have made is knocked back a month or so by some douchebag.  Same ol' shit.

Winter photos 2018-2019

Mary Oliver: A great American poet has passed back into the realm where poems come from

Poet and Pulitzer Prize winner, Mary Oliver, who grew up in Ohio, died yesterday at age 83.  Here's the first few lines from her poem "Wild Geese."

"You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles in the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

Love what it loves..."

When Rachel White, of Designs, Vines, and Wines, asked me to draw something for Black History month, just about this time last year (2017), I decided to draw memoirist, longtime Winston-Salem resident, and America's Poet Laureate, Dr. Maya Angelou.  As a poet myself, it just seemed like the obvious choice to draw.  The drawing came out well, and that drawing made the rounds and a print ended up in the collection of Maya Angelou's niece and archivist. 

One of the things that happened later, as a response to the Maya Angelou drawing, is that Rachel got a request for me to draw another poet, Mary Oliver.  It was a commission by a high school English teacher, as I recall.  I'd never heard of Ms. Oliver, so I dug into her story and searched for a good photo to work from.  There were very few photos of her, and none that really worked well with my style of drawing.  Technically, this was never one of my favorite drawings.  But I really liked her work.  I was stoked to hear that she grew up in northern Ohio, like I did.  Her poems took me right back to the countless hours I spent wandering the woods, creeks, and lake shores of Ohio as a kid.  Even more interesting, on a personal level, is that Mary grew up in Maple Heights, only a few miles from where my grandma grew up. My grandma, as a young woman, easily could have met Mary as a young girl. 

As I read several of her poems, I really liked the way Mary looked at the world, and I wound up doing the drawing.  To the best of my knowledge, the drawing above is hanging in a classroom in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  I imagine the classes in that room will spend some time going over her poems Monday, while looking up at the drawing now and then.  As a longtime wordsmith, it's cool to think a drawing of mine may help draw some young people a into the world of poetry for an hour, and maybe even for a lifetime. 

For those of you reading this, you now have a brief idea who Mary Oliver was.  If you have any interest in poems at all, I advise you to take a few minutes and check out her work.  You might find a gem of an idea that really strikes you, like the last line of "Wild Geese" I quoted above, did to me. 

R.I.P. Mary Oliver.  Let the soft essence of your soul love what it loves and fly where it flies...

San Francisco 43: Old Fat Guys Road Trip

Straight outta the Midwest, John Wold and Scotty Zabielski take over the Old Fat Guy video series and fly out to the San Francisco Bay Area to meet a couple of legends and the land where the whole 43 thing was born.  They skipped episode 43 and no one noticed, then came back and took it out to the Bay Area for issue #43.

So how did the 43 thing start?  One of the skaters in the Curb Dogs had a dad who came home from the local store one day, pulled the changed out of his pocket, counted it, and asked, "How come every time I come home from the store, I always have 43 cents in my pocket?"  His son, the skater, told this funny story to the Curb Dogs, and suddenly they started seeing the number 43 pop up over and over.

I know this, because I lived in NorCal for a year in 1985-86, and left in August of '86 to go work at FREESTYLIN' and BMX Action magazines.  The little incident above happened a month of so later.  A couple of months after that, the Curb Dogs and the rest of the NorCal hardcore riders came down to Southern California for a road trip.  They came to Wizard Publications, and Windy the photographer went out and shot the epic photo of Dave Vanderspek doing the back wheel lipslide by the reflection pool.  They came back to the warehouse, and I got off work, along with Andy Jenkins, Lew, and Gork.  We were all in the parking lot hanging and bullshitting.  Karl Rothe asked me what I'd been up to working there.  I told Karl I had just spent a day and a half transcribing the 90 minute interview Windy did with Robert Peterson.  "It was so freakin' long," I told Karl, "I transcribed like 43 pages."  Karl freaked out, and had me tell the other guys.  And me saying Bert's interview filled 43 pages became one of the early "43 incidents" where that number popped up randomly.  The 43 thing grew among the NorCal guys, and strengthened with each 43 randomly run into.  Eventually the whole "Lucky 43" idea seeped into the larger BMX freestyle collective mind, and became our lucky number as a sport.

This video is a cool little ride down memory lane.  Maurice Meyer, who I always thought of as the assistant manager of NorCal is in this video, and so is Ron Wilkerson, pro rider, trick innovator, and contest promoter.

This video is a good watch for the old guys out there, fat or not, riding a lot, or not.  Check it out.  Oh, and this one's for Old School Joe:

Want some more old school BMX freestyle goodness?  Specifically, Freestyle BMX Tales zines.  You can order my pack with two, big, fat, 48 page zines about The Spot in Redondo Beach.  I'm behind on sending these out, so it may be 2 to 3 weeks until I ship them.  But if that's cool with you, send $15 paypal to stevenemig13@gmail.com , (steven not steve), and send your address to ship them to.  Shipping included in the continental U.S.  Other places, email for info.  That's it.  Go ride.

43. 

I've got a new blog going, it's about  building and running an art or creative business, or any small business.  You can check it out here:
WPOS Kreative Ideas

Latest drawing: David Bowie

 Back in early 2016, when I first started focusing on turning my Sharpie drawings into an income, Scotty Zabielski up in the Chicago area, was sending me photos of him riding, and keeping me working.  I still haven't met him in person, but he's totally helped me out in a whole bunch of ways  these last couple of years.  Thank you for that Scotty.

Last summer, when the Winston-Salem drama was starting to get out of control, he asked me to do a David Bowie drawing for him, when I got a chance.  It took several months, but I finally finished it today.  And yes, according to two different documentaries I watched about him, David took his stage name from American pioneer and adventurer, Jim Bowie.  After getting shot in a fight, Jim's brother, Rezin, decided to help Jim defend himself.  Rezin had a huge ass knife made for Jim.  The initial design got  changed a few times, but the massive knife has been known as the Bowie knife ever since.  Because David Bowie spent his life on the cutting edge of music, I decided to work the knife into the picture. 

This one is my standard, large drawing size, 18" X 24", and done in Sharpies on paper in my still unique #sharpiescribblestyle.  I'll get Mr. Bowie on his way as soon as I can Scotty, and let's hope he doesn't go AWOL and become a space oddity.

Straight Outta Richmond: The GWAR TED Talk

Here we have Dr. Michael Bishop, smart dude with a PhD in music, talking about the cultural identity of Richmond, Virginia.  Oh yeah, and he's the lead singer of GWAR.  This is awesome on so many levels. 

Here's the deal city leaders (everywhere).  Every city wants to be known for having good schools, high caliber universities, safe neighborhoods, a thriving economy, and sports teams that make Tom Brady look like an underachiever.  Every town and city has a Chamber of Commerce that makes videos presenting this image, and every one of the 174 people who actually accidentally click on those websites knows they are complete bullshit. 

Your city has poverty.  Your city has racial issues to work out.  Your city has prejudice.  Your city has homeless people, run down neighborhoods, empty buildings, and a mediocre mainstream sports team... or three.  These are NOT the things cities want to become known for.  Here's the good news.  Most cities aren't really known at all on the world stage at all.  In all likelihood, when major business players talk about where to build new corporate offices or factories, your city is probably not even mentioned. 

Here's the bad news, the ONLY WAY you attract highly talented creative people, tech people, and visionary entrepreneurs, serious high tech companies, and major economic development, is to become a city that stands out among the thousands of other average cities worldwide.  The advance of technology has inadvertently created a winner-take-all world, where a handful of cities attract nearly all the talented creative and tech people, at a time where the companies that drive today's economy cluster where the talented creative and tech people are located. 

No, this isn't fair.  But neither is life.  Deal with it.  Most civic leaders haven't come to grips with this concept yet.  To become a player in today's tech enabled economy, a city has to stand out, it has to have something that sets it apart, it has to be a place where highly creative and high tech people want to go.  The people who really put your city on the map, the people who make your city stand out, are the same people every city wanted to run out of town a generation ago.  The people who put your city on the map in the highly creative circles are the freaks, geeks, dorks, and weirdos.  Like it or not, your city's future in the 21st century is now dependent largely on the caliber of fuck ups hidden in the nooks and crannies of your town. 

Richmond, Virginia, like all cities everywhere, has aspects of its history that are dark.  Here, as Dr. Bishop points out above, those aspects are darker than most places.  But it also has a ton of highly creative people.  Richmond has its challenges.  Every city does.  Most cities will continue to wither as the next recession rolls in, and as technology advances and as the major companies of our age continue to cluster.  Most cities are going to continue to run themselves into the ground, not because they lack good ideas, but because of the people currently running those cities are old school, Industrial Age-minded types who keep the good ideas from happening. 

But any city that can produce a group like GWAR, definitely has a fighting chance in the 21st century.  One more reason to like Richmond.

Gwar Bar (yeah, they have a bar) news piece no one has seen.

The sole Gwar Bar fan video on YouTube.  Seriously, there's only one.

What it will take for me to get off the streets

This is Gary Vaynerchuk, and he cusses a lot.  He also took his parents' New Jersey liquor store from $3 million in sales to $60 million using Google Adwords and YouTube in the early 2000's.  Then he and his brother A.J. started VaynerMedia, a digital agency, what people used to call an advertising agency, in 2009.  The company surpassed $100 million in sales in 2016, and is estimated to be doing around $200 million now.  Gary gets how business works in today's tech enabled world, that's why I listen to him nearly every day, along other 21st century entrepreneurs.  He's also going to buy the New Yorks Jets some day and win  a Superbowl or 12.

The path that led to my current homelessness is a long one.  My story is a crazy one, and is far from the typical homeless story.  From what I've gathered from other people talking about me, I apparently tested as having a ridiculously high IQ when I was going to join the Marine Corps Reserves, to get money for college, in 1985.  My recruiter never told me the Corps would have to question my friends about me if I needed to get a security clearance.  They told me that the third day (long story) I was supposed to ship out.  So I told them that I never mentioned that I sold drugs for a couple of months in high school, crosstops, as we called them.  Probably ephedrine, about as strong as NoDoz, I think.  I stopped on my own, decided it was a bad idea, and never did that again.  But my lie of omission got me dropped from the delayed entry program.  I never shipped out to Marine Corps boot camp.  I was told the Commandant of the Marine Corps made the final call.  I had to ask who that was.  It never made snese back then.  I was just some recruit from Boise, Idaho, as far as I was concerned.

I went back to my restaurant job, and went on into the BMX freestyle world and industry.  It seems that the IQ score I got on the military testing exams stuck on my record somewhere.  I've literally had people walk up to where I sleep now, in the middle of the night, and I wake up hearing them talk about my IQ score from 33 years ago.  This has happened many times.  The number they seem to think I scored is ridiculous.  I was never told what my IQ was on that test, and haven't been officially told since.  I scored a 132 IQ on a test in 7th grade.  And I didn't finish the test because I worked to slow then.  Apparently I scored a bit higher on the military test.

So why all the talk about a fucking test score from 33 years ago?  I was good at taking tests, then.  It was one score, on one test, on one day, when I was a far different person than I am today.  But apparently that score, in addition to my taxi driving, other odd jobs, and a little too much talking about conspiracies, got me pegged as a potential homegrown terrorist shortly after 9/11.  A whole lot of crazy shit happened since then.  I've struggled financially.  I've been turned down for jobs I should have been hired for.  I've had a lot of random people come into my life and ask me odd questions, and I've been unable to find a job, except a year of taxi driving, in ten years in North Carolina. 

THAT'S WHY I decided to focus on making money with my artwork, and now some writing.  I simply couldn't find a "real job" for years.  I don't know the whole story of my own life.  I know there's been a ton of outside influence on my life, and I couldn't get completely back on track.

That craziness seems to have finally run its course.  So now I'm homeless in a new city.  I have one old friend from BMX here, a few new ones, and a cool, young art gallery that wants to help promote my work.  I've developed a form of unique Sharpie marker art that often stops complete strangers in their tracks.  Ten or 12 different groups of people stopped to talk to me while I was working on the David Bowie drawing for Scotty Z. two days ago.  I'm good at what I do.  I'm in this for the long haul.  I've actually sold 50 major pieces of art in the year after my first art show, at Earshot Music in Winston-Salem.  I sold them mostly for $120 to $160, about $3 an hour for my time, just so I could survive and keep working.  The price is now going up to $350 for an original, 18" X 24" drawing.

They will sell.  Maybe not today, maybe not next week.  But soon.  I'm in this for the long haul.  I'm not going to stop.  I started this "business" without a dime in late 2015.  I moved out of my mom's apartment, which was just a toxic environment, and was always in financial crisis, in June 2017.  I lived in a tent for 9 months, through last winter.  I kept drawing.  I went to jail for buying donuts ("trespassing").  I had a bug get stuck in my ear for a month.  I had a bunch of yahoos march out to my tent one night and threaten to beat me with baseball bats last May, saying that if I didn't stop blogging, they would "teach me a lesson."  I told them I was going to keep blogging.  My blog, just over 18 months old now, just hit 60,000 page views.  Check the counter on the right.  That's why I left NC.

Now I'm in Richmond, Virginia, a city with a ton of great art scenes, and a good BMX scene with a few old school guys around.  I'm building again.  I landed here, by accident, in August, with $3 in my pocket.  I'm selling some art.  I'm selling some zines.  Things are slowly improving.  SLOWLY.  That's a function of money.  In the past couple of months, people have begun to help me out, old friends and a couple Facebook friends.  But it's still going to take a long time.  Homelessness costs me $12 to $15 a day, mostly in food so I can use restaurant wifi from early morning to late evening.  All I want to do is work.  But much of my energy is still taken by surviving.  I go to sleep each night knowing that I could be attacked, I could get hypothermia, I could die before morning.  It's not a huge chance, but it's always there.  I'm used to that.

Here's where I'm headed.  I need to get a new ID (about $50 total and 2-4 weeks).  I need to get a new bank account (Paypal helps, but I can't do everything I need).  I need to get a storage unit ($65 to $80 a month, depending on location).  You guys know my clothes and one sleeping bag were stolen recently.  A storage unit also allows me to buy items to "flip" on Ebay or elsewhere, and store them safely, like Gary Vee talks about in the video above, to earn some extra money.

But most of all, I need a room.  Richmond doesn't have a big roommate culture like SoCal does.  Especially for a an old, sketchy looking, guy like me.  The rooms I've seen for rent here seem to mostly be in super low income places, or outright crackhouses.  Not an option.  The only real option is a "cheap," weekly motel room.  And that's $285 a week.  So I need to build up to an income of about $1400 a month, minimum, to make that happen long term. 

That's going to take a while.  Unless one of you (or a group) is willing to loan me $3,000 to $10,000 to jump start my business, the way most businesses start, then I'm going to have to deal with the snow this weekend, and cold nights, and just keep plugging away slowly at all this.  I'm OK with that.  I know some of you worry about me sleeping outside.  But that's just the way things are.  In all likelihood, I'll survive to build a pretty cool little business creating art, writing zines, and (pretty damn soon) books, and giving workshops.  But it's just going to take several more months to happen.  I'm OK with that.  Well, not OK, but I've survived the REALLY crazy shit 10-12-16 years ago.  I can deal with things now.

So stop worrying.  It'll happen for me.  It will take a while, but it will happen.  I'm in this UNTIL it happens.  Then I'll really do some cool shit.  I'll hang in there.  I need those of you who are worried to hang in there, too.

I really want to thank all of you who've helped me in one way or another.  It has helped.  It's working.  Just slowly.  It takes thousands of dollars to fully escape homelessness and rebuild a life.  And that takes time.  It'll happen. 

Some basic things about homelessness most people don't understand

It was actually a hot day when I took this photo, and I was really tired when I made it to the downtown library, and sat down on a little ledge to rest a bit.  Then I turned around and saw the sign behind me.  This photo pretty much sums up what homelessness feels like day to day.  Pretty much everything a homeless person does day to day is either illegal, or frowned upon by most people. 

So here are a few things most people simply don't understand about homelessness:

For every panhandler you see with a cardboard sign asking for a dollar, there are AT LEAST A MILLION PEOPLE on Social Security Disability LIVING off of your tax dollars.  This is not an exaggeration.  I doubt any of you see more than 8 to 10 panhandlers in a day, and there are an estimated 12 to 15 million people on Disability.  It's very likely that at least half of those people on Disability scammed the system to live for free off your tax dollars.  Really.  And many of you are pissed about the guy with the sign asking for a measly dollar.

The moment you become homeless, going to the bathroom and sleeping immediately become illegal.  But you have to do both anyways.  Think about that, I have to either go to a public building (library, courthouse, etc.) or buy something (drink a fast food joint) to be able to use a restroom.  Every single time.  Going to the bathroom any other place could lead to getting a ticket or possibly even arrested.  The same goes for sleeping... anywhere.

A homeless person doesn't go to a fast food place just for breakfast or lunch.  By buying a drink or meal, a homeless person is actually RENTING a seat to sit down, a bathroom, heat or air conditioning, and often wifi for a phone or laptop.  Keep in mind, ANY form of work these days requires a phone for communication, and in most cases a computer to apply and send a resume'.  A laptop is also necessary for most freelance work, or for more entrepreneurial stuff like selling art, like I do, selling stuff on Ebay or Craigslist, or other 21st century type work. 

The best report I've found online (from 2004, I think) said there are about 2 1/2 to 3 million homeless people in the U.S..  But most are only homeless for a period or 2-3 weeks to 2-3 months.  There are actually about 800,000 homeless people in the U.S. at any given time.  You never notice most homeless people, because they get stuck with no place to live by some unfortunate series of events, and find a place fairly quickly.  Only a tiny percentage wind up being long term homeless.  Those are the people ( like me) you see on the streets.

There ARE ALWAYS more spare bedrooms, and often more empty houses and buildings, in this country, than there are homeless people.  But if a homeless person breaks into an empty or abandoned building, they can be arrested.  I've been sleeping on the porch of an abandoned building for three months or so.  The irony of that doesn't escape me.

"Rapid Rehousing" which many people have heard of, usually takes 6 to 18 months, judging by the people I know who've done it.  And then you are part of a program where you get kicked out if you work hard to actually increase your income.  Usually people wind up housed in apartments where they're afraid to leave their front door after dark.

There are two main ways people escape homelessness:  (1) Someone lets the person stay at their house.  The homeless person "plugs into" an existing living situation.  Often it's a toxic or dangerous situation, but it gets them off the streets.  But they don't have to buy all new stuff, pay utility deposits, need a good credit report, and all that.  (2) The homeless person gets an income high enough to rent a room or apartment, or more often, a "cheap" weekly motel room, AND buy all the needed items to rebuild their life.  Weekly motel rooms are not cheap at all, the one I plan to move into is $285 a week.  BUT, you don't need credit, there's no deposit, you don't have to turn on utilities, there's wifi, a microwave, a mini fridge, a TV, and so on. 

Going to a homeless shelter is basically like going to jail by choice.  It's almost as dangerous.  Things get stolen all the time, often by staff members.  They pressure people to "get in a program," either addiction or mental illness, and then lie and scam Disability to get a check.  Homeless shelters DO NOT work to help homeless people learn 21st century skills and to get good jobs.  That's why so many people prefer to stay on the streets.  

There are far more drunks, alcoholics and addicts living in houses than there are on the streets.  I was a taxi driver in super rich, Newport Beach, California, so I can say this for a fact.  Heavy drinking is damn near a prerequisite for wealth, it seems.  The difference between "respectable" drunks/addicts and homeless drunks/addicts is their social network.  Homeless people are homeless mostly because they don't have a strong family or social safety net to catch them in tough times. 

Homeless in the snow last month

 This is the little porch on the side of an abandoned building where I've been sleeping for the last three months or so.  I took this shot the day after we had 11 inches of snow here in Richmond.  I built a wall across the doorway with cardboard and snow to keep some wind and most snow out of my little sleeping space.  I also lined the place, which has three little steps, with cardboard for insulation.  I spent 17 1/2 hours here, the night of the snowstorm, because the businesses I usually go to for breakfast and in the evening were closed.  That made for a really tough night.  I intentionally didn't post this photo, because my sleeping spot is every bit as sketchy as it looks, and I don't talk about most of what I'm dealing with day to day.  But since several people are trying to help me get back on my feet now, I decided to show you my reality.  It would take a few days of searching to find a better spot, and move my stuff there, like a tent in the woods somewhere, and it may not be any safer or warmer.

 A view of the snowstorm from inside the Starbucks in a nearby Target store.  Winter wonderland... until you have to go out in it.

The benches in the local McDonald's patio area tell the tale of how much snow we got.  This snowstorm, the worst early season snowstorm ever in Richmond, and about the 12th worst snowstorm ever here.  The weather is just one thing I'm dealing with as I work to build a small business around my art and writing, and to make enough money out of that little business to get myself out of homelessness. We're getting a snowstorm this weekend.  Unlike the December 9th snow, the snow we're about to get will last for days, possibly weeks.

The Legacy of Miserlou: the many lives of an epic song

This is my favorite video of Dick Dale performing his classic surf song, "Miserlou," in 1995.  He was about 58 years old at the time, rocking as hard as ever.  The reason I decided to do a post about this song is because I stumbled across this video of ukulele players Honoka and Azita playing "Miserlou".  I was skeptical, but these girls shred the ukes, and it has a very different, but still very surflike feel to it on ukuleles.

Most of you older folks, if you're not surfers, remember this song from Quentin Tarantino's breakout 1994 movie, Pulp Fiction.  What most pf you probably don't know is that "Miserlou" actually inspired Quentin Tarantino to make Pulp Fiction.  An instrumental surf song, a 1962 surf rock version of an old, romantic Egyptian song, inspired a young director to make his breakthrough movie, that launched one of the most original directing careers in Hollywood.  That's the power that a great piece of music, or any kind of art, can have.  To the right person, it can inspire other amazing things many years later, and keep inspiring others.

I don't know if any of the initial ideas for the movie came while listening to it, but young Quentin Tarantino, with only Reservoir Dogs under his belt at the time, wanted to make a movie with the same kind of energy that he felt in the song.  Here's Dick Dale, on stage, telling the story of how Tarantino contacted him about using "Miserlou."  Meanwhile, once Quentin got the ideas flowing, a lot more came into play, as you can see in this Charlie Rose interview.

As a Midwest turned Idaho kid, I didn't grow up in a surf culture.  But I moved into one, Huntington Beach, California, in 1987, as a 20-year-old BMX freestyler.  The first version of "Miserlou" I ever heard was this one, by surf punk band Agent Orange.  When I started working at Unreel Productions in late '87, I had to make a copy of the Vision Skateboards video, Skatevisions, one day, and I just dug the music.  After that, I would pop in a copy of the tape just to listen to the soundtrack sometimes while working.  From time to time, I'd be riding somewhere, and someone would have an Agent Orange cassette playing in their ghetto blaster.  So I heard this song form time to time.

Then, in 1994, Tarantino made Pulp Fiction, which put Dick Dale's original version of "Miserlou" back in the mainstream consciousness again.  Like all great pieces of music, it's been covered by all kinds of people.  Here's some of the best versions:

"Pump It" - Black Eyed Peas
"Miserlou" - William Joseph (piano), Caroline Campbell (electric violin), Tina Guo (electric cello)
"Miserlou"- the original Egyptian song
"Miserlou"- Pulp Fiction version with montage from movie
"Miserlou" - The Beach Boys
"Miserlou" - Chubby Checkers, singing in English
"Miserlou" - Old Arabic Version, singing
"Miserlou" - Atonis Simixis, acoustic guitar
"Miserlou"- The ShowHawk Duo, two acoustic guitars
"Miserlou"-  Ara Milikian, violin
"Miserlou"- De Fuego, two guitar, Spanish guitar style
"Miserlou" - Luca Stricagnoli, one man, acoustic guitar, percussion, foot guitars (just watch)
"Miserlou" - Comtemporary orchestra featuring flute and violin
"Miserlou" - Musician unknown, allgirlspace, mandolin
"Miserlou" - The Tarantinos (really, that's the band's name)
"Miserlou" - Adak Group, vocal a capella
"Miserlou" - Near East Brass, horny version
"Miserlou" - Surf Aid Kit, at 4:00, this young surf rock band is showing this epic song to a new generation...

Holy crap... this is one of those posts that took on a life of its own.  That clip embedded above of Dick Dale playing "Miserlou" is one I pull up and listen to every now and then.  It's one of those epic songs I just need to listen to on a regular basis.  But I just found one more version of "Miserlou" that I didn't know existed.  Here's Dick Dale playing the Viper Room in L.A. last June (2018).  He ends with "Miserlou,"  playing it at age 81, 56 years after his version of the song was first released.  It starts about 1:14:30.  Epic. 

Rock climbing wall and a river resident

 I saw three great blue herons on my walk along the river.  This guy was kind enough to let me take a close photo.

 I actually went down the riverside trail looking for a bunch of street art I know is there somewhere.  I went the wrong way for that, but found another really cool thing I'd heard about, this old bridge support wall turned climbing wall.  It's hard to believe now, but I got into bouldering (low altitude rock climbing without ropes) in '92, and maybe I'll get back to it someday.  This is some good motivation to keep losing weight.

 Sport climber nearing the top.

Another wide shot, with a climber hanging, trying to figure out the next moves.

Under the bridge downtown...

 For the whole five months I've been in Richmond, I've been fighting just to survive day after day.  I got here after my quick escape form NC, and landed in the bus stop with about $3 in my pocket.  It's been rough, starting out homeless in a city I'd never been to, not knowing anyone or where to go and not go in the city.  There hasn't been much time to wander around and explore, which is what I normally do when I get to a new city.  But on New Year's Day, I took the bus down to Manchester, and walked west on the walkway on top of the flood wall by the big James River.  Here's a few pics I snapped.  Above, cool looking bridge supports.

 A group of kayakers doing a little brown water rafting.  The river was high from recent rains, so the water was pretty brown with sediment.

 The direct line down this bridge's supports.

 Rapids downtown?  Hell yeah, Richmond's got 'em.  I even saw what I think was a young bald eagle soaring above this island.  It looked too big to be a hawk, and the head was still brown.  A sign on the walkway said there are nesting bald eagles in the city limits here.  Cool.  There are also muskrats, beavers and even otters in this river.  Crazy.

 Looking northwest from under the bridge with the arches.  Pilings from a long gone bridge, and the big pedestrian bridge, with a lot of people out on New Year's Day.

Downtown Richmond (aka RVA) from across the river in the Manchester area.  Every section of the city has a long established name here. 

January First Friday Art Walk at Workshop in Richmond

For the December First Friday Art Walk in Richmond's Arts District, I just wandered around, and wound up at Workshop,located a 420 W. Broad Street here in Richmond.  You'd think one of the bong shops would have snapped up that address, but they haven't.  Those places are a bit farther west, close to both VCU campus and lots of munchies, which makes sense.

Meanwhile, Workshop is a really cool idea brought about by the non-profit, Engage, as a place to bring creative people together, primarily young, college age people who need a place to pursue and work on a wide variety of creative pursuits.  Last month, I wandered in there late, met the two main guys making it happen, Sean and Justice, and showed them my big Sumatran Tiger drawing.  They were stoked on it, and also were totally down to help me get my artwork shown and hopefully sold, after hearing of my current situation.  I took them a few of the prints of my small drawings before Christmas, and they've been sitting up on the wall since.

Yesterday, I realized I lost my big sketch pad while I was rushing around to ship out some of my BMX zine packs.  I was sure I left it at the post office, but they didn't have it yesterday when I went back to check.  Anyhow, I never did find it yesterday, which bummed me out, because my big tiger drawing was in it.  Because of all of that, I wandered into Workshop a little after 7:00 last night, a while after things started.  I didn't contact any of the local people I know here, because I wasn't sure what would be going on.  Last month, it was just Sean and Justice hanging out when I showed up. 

Last night, for the RVA's First Friday Art Walk, the place was hoppin'.  There was a DJ with music blastin'.  On the tables by the entrance there were about six people with art, T-shirts, hats, and other fashion items to check out and buy.  So I talked to Justice, let him know I was there, and took up a spot at the table.  I put out my four, different, 8 1/2" X 11" prints, a couple of my zines, and some homemade stickers to hand out. 

There was a pretty good turnout of people there, and a bunch who roamed through in the course of the night.  What's funny to me, is that I'm a middle aged, old, fat, ugly, homeless, white guy, who does some cool and unique stuff with Sharpie markers these days.  Somehow, I keep winding up hanging out with highly creative young, primarily ,creative people.  Back in Winston-Salem, I was hanging with L.B. the Poet, Reece Johnson, and several other great poets.  Here I stumbled into the Workshop group, and it's a cool fit.  Lots of people were checking out my work and asking about it, as I worked on a doodle drawing.  I sold some prints, met a bunch of cool new people, and had a great time.  I also had J.B. from Against Fake Love give me a new stocking cap, which I've been wearing a lot today.

All in all, it was a great night, and I wandered back to my "place" stoked on the night's happenings.  So a big thanks to Sean and Justice for helping me out, and giving me a place to show people what I do. 

Even better, I went to the local dollar store today to get some junk food I didn't need, and there, where I drop my bags when I go in there every time, was my trash bag covered sketch pads, just where I left them Thursday.  So I didn't lose my big tiger drawing, or the big David Bowie drawing I'm doing for a friend right now, which is 3/4 done.

Next month for First Friday, I'll have more stuff to show off, and I'll let all my BMX friends here, and other RVA locals I know, that it's going on.  There's great artsy stuff to check out, and it's a cool vibe, so you all need to come by and check it out.  #sharpiescribblestyle

60,000 Page Views!

When I brought all my blogs together into this single blog just over a year and a half ago, I honestly had no idea if anyone would check this blog out at all.  Thanks for reading everyone, even the cops, the Russian bots and people looking for polar bear videos.  Another big round number of page views achieved.  60,000 page views in a year and a half.  Pretty good for the weird mix of things I wrtie about.  Thanks!

Hogshit Rides 2018 Year End Edit

This showed up yesterday, courtesy of Jody Donnelly.  I watched it, and now I'm jonesin' to go ride (and to lose a ton more weight to make that happen).  Watch it, then get that New Year's session underway.

It's 2019, society as we know it is imploding... TIME TO ROCK!

I had tickets to a Rush concert in 1983, I got in trouble for something stupid that was probably not much of anything, and didn't get to see this epic band live then.  That sucked.

What you say about his company is what you say about society...

No, his mind is not for rent

To any God or government

Always hopeful, but discontent

He knows changes aren't permanent

But change is... 

-Rush