Fucked up psycho princess way out of control.
Fuck off, little man.

Now the psycho playing hostile loud bass again. It might
be a difficult night. He sounds pretty fucked up again.

fucked up psycho princess is playing superloud bass next
door. hostile & desperate for attention. he has done this a
few times, recently but mostly under 30 seconds at a time.

he has been bombarding us for 8 minutes already.

useless, needy, lost in the head.

For the second time in the past 6-7 months I am being
audited and scutinized by welfare office. I received a letter
yesterday, demanding that I send them bank statements,
my lease for this shack and other documents.

Previously they stated that I had deliberately misled them
about how much $$ I was earning at the street mission.
I have never earned more than $180/month, and my
allowed income is $200/month. They withdrew $300 from
my welfare cheques and provincial tax rebates. That really
hurt. I have an elderly cat who has hyperthyroidism, and
meds & food for him are expensive.


But what hurt even more was the accusation that I was
dishonest. The truth is that I am completely incompetent
with income tax forms, and all associated document. I was
delinquent for many years because I did not earn a taxable
income, but someone helped me process all the retro
forms, and I thought that I was all caught up.

My father worked with anti-poverty groups all his life, and
he was so shocked to find out that in the bureaucracy of
welfare there are some cold, small-minded, small-hearted
people who like to make life miserable for poor people. I
can still hear his voice on the phone trying to console and
advise somebody who had just been kicked off welfare.

It may be that there is a bureaucrat who wants to do me harm.
It may be that I will become a homeless man. I know that the
investigators are absolutely necessary. At the street mission
we have seen people drive up in expensive cars asking for
food bank food. When you challenge them they say "do you
want to see my welfare card?" That really turns my stomach.

If I lose my welfare I will not stay in Montreal. I will go to Halifax.
I was a homeless man there for a while, after the suicide of my
massage teacher. I spent a lot of time walking & talking with
the Atlantic Ocean. I told the Ocean that I was going back
to Montreal to try to do the kind of massage work that my
teacher would be proud of. The Ocean said to me clearly - if you
do not feel safe in Montreal you can come back here to live.

I could live on welfare there and volunteer with poor people.

Fucked up psycho princess playing loud and superloud
guitar and bass, in alternation. He is definitely not playing
within his soundproof recording studio. He wants us to
listen.

So needy, so useless, so desperate for attention.

We finished our regular clothes-sorting chores early today.
There were not a lot of usable clothes in the bin. As usual
there were indications that someone had been reaching
into the chute with improvised sticks with clothes hanger
hooks taped on them. We could see the ripped bags easily,
and stuff scattered in the snow.

We sometimes know who does this, because people who
are friendly to the mission live right across the street, and
they can observe this activity in the middle of the night.

One person I know who does this is a sad head case, and
we do not try to aggravate him. He made the mistake of
accepting a prescription for antidepressants a few years ago
when he had a hockey injury. The doctor insisted that the
antidepressants would help to optimize the painkillers for
his ruptured tendon.

He got seriously fucked up with the antidepressants, and
lost his job. He went on welfare, but threatened his social
worker when they said that he needed a psychological
assessment. He has been in and out of jail.

He has been seen trying to crawl inside the donation bin
trying to pull out bags, hoping there might be something
he can hawk to buy cigarettes or crack or whatever.

You have to accept people as they are, not as you would
like them to be.

But what is much more disturbing in the past 2 weeks is
the appearance of dirty cat litter dumped into the donation
bin. And someone also dumped some kind of liquid, like
paint or solvent. We had to throw out clothes that were
covered with cat litter frozen with some kind of liquid.

We do not have laundry facilities for washing & drying
soiled linen or clothing. We don't have the space for it.
I feel so bad throwing out stuff that has been deliberately
sabotaged. Our customers do not have much money, and
our prices are the lowest in the neighbourhood.

Obviously the people who sabotage our donation bin are
not poor, not needy.

Last year one of the local business men in our area said
it would be very easy to mount bluetooth cameras in the
building looking out on the donation bin so we could easily
see who does what. I said that I was not in favour of that
idea. We are not engaged in judgement of our neighbours.

I would not like to see us move to that level of scrutiny. Yes,
it is true that the old definitions of privacy and anonymity are
gone forever and will never return unless somebody shoots
all the satellites out of the sky and we become like cavepeople
again. That is not going to happen.

It is a sick & sad person who empties their cat litter into the
donation bin. That is very low.

Now continuous very very loud bass.

The idiot psych neighbour playing loud bass right now.
Definitely not playing in his soundproof studio. That is
much too claustrophobic for him.

Fuck off, little man. Needy, useless, desperate for
attention. He sounds so lost, so alone. Nobody to
love him, so he has to share his negativity and unhappiness.

He sounds hostile and angry. This is the third or fourth time
today. Obnoxious little psycho.

Pelvis is home, more than the head is home. That is
what I learned in my massage career. Any thing that does
optimize the dignity and vitality of pelvis as home can
teach you that.

I have zero budget for live music events, normally. Some
times free tickets to musical concerts show up at the
street mission.

Last week I was walking on the sidewalk and saw a poster
for a concert/dance event at a lovely old baroque theater
just down the street from my shack. The photo grabbed me
in a really urgent affirmation: Thou shalt go see this Israeli
reggae band. No argument. Thou shalt go dance with others
on the dance floor. Thou shall shake thine ass real good.

Eight guys from Tel Aviv, Israel. They all come from different
places - Morroco, Ethiopia, Italy, Israel, all over the place. And
they play and sing with unbelievable mastery and invention,
fusing traditional Persian, Israeli, African rhythms and pure sweaty
reggae cadence and texture.

Zvuloon Dub System is their name. I got rejuvenated and restored,
defragmented and released into happiness. I recognized right
away by the photo of the band on the poster that this was spiritual
nourishment, not to be missed. I have not danced at all since the
Montreal Jazz Festival, out in the street on a hot night.

I have discovered some concert videos that they have put on YT,
and on their webpage. I was so, so, so knocked out by their heart,
technical mastery, supercompetent delivery and Big Time Soul.
Apperently they have been very well received in Jamaica. I want to
read more about that.

They played with such huge sincerity. When you can dance on a
sprung dance floor in the hardest part of the winter to music like
that it is gonna restore your soul. Feed what is worthy, affirm the
home in the pelvis. Dance your ass off.

I will notice that $25 is missing from my budget. However, I have
to categorize this musical event, dance event as medicine and
nourishment.

Zvuloon Dub System

Hostile psycho fuckup of a neighbour playing loud bass
right now. He is such a sad case. Fuck off, little man.