Tag Archives: New York City

New York City

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The idea of going to New York City was my friends. Come visit she said. When I left, she told me: I never had someone visit for three months.

I had just left my first year working in Silver Lake. With some of my money I bought a bus ticket. I arrived in the city just a month after Sept. 11. The whole city was still on edge. I met my friends at the bus station. The giant Port Authority Building.

While I was in the city I was one of a group living in a small studio. For most of the time I slept on a small couch. The friend who invited me was a part of a larger group. They were dreamers. And they were artists. The type of people who bring the city to life. My friend worked at a framing shop in Manhattan. She is an amazing artist.

One of my earliest memories was going shopping. I purchased food for myself and the rest. When I got to town my spirits were high. But the weather, problems with my friends, and just life got me down. In general it was a hard time for me. And not for any reason except myself. And depression.

These were friends I had met years before. When I met I felt like we were on the same page. But here I felt out of place. The larger group was one I didn’t connect with on a real level. They were all friendly. It wasn’t them. It was me. I felt different. While there I read Bill Gates’ book. When talking to one of the studio-mates I asked, “would you let Bill Gates join your group?” Based on his book, he sounded like a dreamer too. Now, granted in some ways the dreams were different. But I believed, and still do, all dreams come from a place of value. The answer was, no. The reason was, “he would try and take over.” But, you don’t know – he might not.

One of the group was pushing me to drink. Just one he would say. Just one, just one, just one. I would always say no. He made me feel uncomfortable because of this. And I had the strong impression he just didn’t like me. When I spent time with my friend alone I was okay. And there were a few of her friends I got on with too. I’ve never been a drinker, I wasn’t into looking for a party. And I don’t mean this to have a moral tone. There were times living in New York City I wished I was more like the rest of the group. But I wasn’t. And it didn’t feel right when I tried to pretend. When alone with my friend I drank some wine. I trusted her.

I didn’t trust her friend. It is easier to say no one the first drink. What I feared was he would push me to drink one, then two, and three. But my family has a history of alcoholism. And it just isn’t what I want for myself. It isn’t what I believe you need to have fun.

I love my friend dearly. But his pressure and the tone of the group made me feel alone. The more so because I wanted to be a part. Which is rare for me. I felt like this was were I belonged. But I didn’t feel like I fit in. So, I felt like there was something wrong with me. I started to grow away from the group and do my own thing. And it didn’t feel to me like anyone cared. I know this isn’t fair. And was a symptom of the depression.

Right now it is almost 2 a.m. A fitting time to write about New York City. I don’t recall sleeping much. What I do remember was being out all times of the night. There was a 24 hour internet cafe near Times Square. They had an odd price scheme. The price adjusted according to demand. In the middle of the night demand was low. The price was low. This was one of the places I spent a lot of time. I was there on New Years’ Eve.

But I also went to the library in Brooklyn a couple times. My friend lived in the Clinton Hill neighborhood. And I worked at Labor Ready.

I got to know the city working with Labor Ready. You have to find your way to the job sites. The people I worked with were good people. Though they loved to try and have extra hours written on the time card. I never tried it myself, but gained some cash from their efforts. I worked a few moving jobs in the city.

There was one I recall. We went on break and I left my coat, with wallet and money in the apartment. When we came back it was sealed by the Sheriff. The person was being evicted. It gave me a good scare, but I did get my things.

Before I got to the city Labor Ready workers had been at Ground Zero. But rumor was there had been theft. Also the nature of the clean-up was moving away from casual labor needs.

Another job I recall was tearing down a fire damaged building. But we were taking it down one board at a time. It was a bad job. The plan was having trash barrels loaded up with debris. Just the regular kind you buy at the store. Then there were dragged down the stairs. Five flights of stairs to the bottom. Outside a large dumpster was waiting for the buckets where the buckets were dumped. I was on the job for about a week I believe. And it drove me to the point of exhaustion. In the end they asked me to be removed. But I didn’t care, I’d had enough.

Working at Labor Ready at the time took some timing. It also took being a good worker. I was given good jobs because I did a good job. But I also got to the office an hour before they opened. The opening time was 6 a.m. But it wasn’t uncommon to find a line at 5 a.m. Sometimes I didn’t sleep, often I slept little. I am sure this was a factor in my depression.

One time I was riding the subway. I fell asleep and missed my stop. Okay, this happened a couple times. But this time I got off the subway, got on the train going back. I fell asleep and missed it again. I was tired most of the time I was in the city. Once at the studio someone came to pick up something. He wasn’t trusted and I tried to stay awake to keep an eye on him. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t stay awake.

After New Years’ Eve I took a short trip to Glens Falls. The last time I was there to see friends. It was early 2002. When I came back I didn’t stay long. I saved some money, bought a bus ticket and started home. But I had a few stops to make along the way.

When I first got to the city it was all strange. My friend and I had a discussion about the closest subway stop to her house. She was a little upset I questioned her answer. By the time I left I knew the subways well enough to help others. One day I walked through the maze of the Times Square – Port Authority complex of subway stations without getting lost. It was a shock. I told my friend about the experience. While in the city I spent a fair amount of time just walking around. Manhattan mostly because it felt safer. And the grid is pretty basic. A couple night I walked around Times Square. And sometimes during the day.

I told my friend Times Square was a funny place. Because of its location in the city, and the county. It would be easy to do something and be in the national spotlight. You were at the white hot focus of attention. But at the same time there are so many lights. Even at night it is bright like day. And there are almost always crowds walking around. So the average person would be totally ignored. There was something which drew me to Times Square.

I went to Ground Zero once while in the city. It wasn’t where I was trying to go at the time. It was the only time I rode the city bus too. My normal mode of transit was walking and the subway. But while looking for Greenwich Village I ended up at the site. A friend I met there said he was always lost in the city after the attack. Since they were the tallest buildings in the city. He knew once he located them, which way was south. Now they were gone. I wasn’t impressed deeply by the site.

There was an art show which touched me. It was a collection of photos. Personal photos which had been shared. Many were of the skyline before and after the attacks. There were a wide range of images. They showed the way common people were touched by the events. My friend told me she went to the roof of her building and could see the buildings fall.

One other place I spent time was Central Park. There are a lot of neat little corners. One I liked was the Turtle Pond. I explored a good deal of the park while living in the city. And on one occasion did some walking along the Hudson River. I had seen the city as a boy. On a trip with my father we had taken a tour around the island on a boat. But being back I wanted to see more of the city. It felt like an experience I wanted to soak in as much as possible.

Maybe someday I will go back to the city. I am closer to family in New York now. I should take a trip to see them soon. When I left the city I wanted to visit friends. And then go home.

Dante

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Dante came into my life when I lived in Portland. It was the first time I lived there. I used his name on a dateline. A phone number you called to meet singles. I didn’t think much about it. And I only met two people.

One of them however became friends with a friend of mine. She shared the name with him. And he started using it. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Dante. For years it stayed this way.

When we traveled across the county. I used the name Dante all the way across. Meeting the women in Upstate New York, I was Dante. It was there I got the addition of Prince.

We had planned to go to a festival. Before hand I hand been singing a song. One of the lines way about going to the festival, “and dancing with the prince.” When the time came I went with the girls. And my friend stayed to watch a movie. Dancing at the festival, they figured I must be the prince.

Over time I started to get to know him better. And when I worked at Silver Lake I borrowed his identity again. At the camp everyone called me Dante. It was fun to think of myself as Dante. And not Chris.

I think there has always been a dark draw to Dante. Something about him made me come closer. His name invoked the story of Dante’s journey through hell. And later through heaven. I remember a quote about having to go through hell. And then you find your treasure. It is about struggle. About going deep. But also understanding our wounds. Loving our shadow.

I don’t believe in sin. And it has been years since I have believed. We don’t sin against God. But we fail ourselves. The only crime is failing to love ourselves. And the punishment is not being loved by ourselves. We hold the key to our own chains.

Dante was a recluse. A lover of knowledge and poetry. Not a person happy at parties. Unless he could hide in the corner. There was a very secret part of him. A part which wanted to be invisible. Just to watch the world. And not be a part. But he loved getting to know people one on one. Hearing about their lives and stories.

In Yosemite I got to know Dante better. But at the same time Dante hid away deeper. It wasn’t a name I spoke often. When doing art of writing, I spent time with Dante. But it was always alone. No one else in Yosemite knew Dante. I was growing. And Dante was growing. We spent a lot of time together hiking.

He was still creative. Still a dreamer. It was his dreams which helped me fall in love with the girls in New York. Laura whom I lived with for a few months. And Shaylyn whom I saw rarely.

In Yosemite I decided I wanted to be a writer. And I choose to go into the news business. I do like news. But it was for the writing. One of the first stories I recall being acutely aware of was Scott Peterson. On my blog I gave a lot of space to Dante. But when I left, I almost left him behind. Which is sad because he was part of the reason I want to be a writer.

Working and going to school in Stockton took a heavy toll. I didn’t have time for friends. And I didn’t have time for Dante. There were a few paintings. And a couple times I took photo walks. But Dante wasn’t a part of my life. He would become less a part of my life for the next few years.

It isn’t because I didn’t value his energy. Or because I wasn’t pulled to be alone. But because I ignored those things. And I ignored his needs. Dante is a loyal friend, like Lilith. But things were strained with both of them during this time. All I had time for was me. Run to work, to school, to sleep, to work, to school. Run all the time. Well I had a bike.

Dante may be loyal. But has wanted to die a number of times. Alone, but not alone.

The one exception to all this is my roommate in Arcata. When I met her online I used Dante’s name. And she still calls me Dante to this day. There was a part of herself which touched him. And it would appear a part of him touched her. Could they not be alone anymore. But she wasn’t making time for Dante either. And I pushed him away after moving to a new place. He didn’t feel like a friend. He felt more like a shadow.

My first online identity was TheSanePoet. A name I still use online often. But when I first got Facebook I used the name Dante. It was a way to be honest. But to lie at the same time. Dante wanted people to know him. But also wanted people to know nothing.

His desire was different than Lilith. Less about fear. More about presenting the perfect image. A perfectionist artist. I would be his work of art. There was only one way to turn me into this work of art: control everything. I could share anything I wanted. But the way I shared was important to Dante.

While living in Portland the second time I used the name rarely. M didn’t like it. Because I did love Dante so much. And because I loved M so much it isn’t a surprise they have the same middle name: Rose.

A rose is about a passion. Maybe a passion for life. Or for a person. Or truth or love or the passion for words. These ideas were becoming more important to me. It was while living in Portland this time I started my real art career. I’ve created little over the years. Most of what of it in those years. Dante inspired me as an artist. There was a world of feeling he could touch. But I could not.

I know this is all over the place. But this is the nature of Dante. He isn’t like me. I’m going back even further for the next part of this tale.

Living in Santa Cruz I met an amazing woman. At the beach one day she told me I was a Pleiadian. This is an alien race. But I think she was wrong. What she was seeing was behavior I had learned from Dante. He was the being from another world. A number of years later I started to pin Pleiades to his name to make this point. A point he was aware of, but didn’t discuss. A point he seemed not to care enough about to argue for or against.

If other people know Dante, they may use a different name. But as of now I refer to him as Prince Dante Rose Pleiades. And I still use his name online. He doesn’t like Facebook.

It is interesting Dante is more passive than Lilith. But as friends I know they both look out for me. Dante shares dark secrets with Lilith. Things they will not even share with me.

But Dante is more optimistic. When I first was getting to know him, he wore a skirt. These were the good years. We were good friends. He believed in the world. Thought life could and should be better for all. He pushed me to get out much more than I do now. Maybe because getting out is my own hell. One he knew I needed to experience.

I believe he still wants to wear a skirt. And if I allowed him, he would.

Now me and Dante are getting to know each other again. Like lovers parted for long years. I am writing again, which is creative. This makes Dante happy. My dream of being an artist is being re-awakened. Dante is a part of this dream. I can’t write or be an artist without his help. But still no one else knows him. It is only online I share anything about him. And I don’t allow many people from real life to know me online.

We are growing together in the last couple years. And it has been good for both of us.

Silver Lake California

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Small things can cause big changes. Getting one summer job did this for me. It was a turning point. Coming back to Stockton finding work was hard. But I found a great job.

The job was at a summer camp in the Sierra Nevadas. It was at 7000 feet. It was amazing. The camp was run by the city of Stockton. It was a great job. I got paid weekly, and had no rent or food bills to pay. I was able to save money.

My job at the camp was working the front desk. But like many other jobs I took on other tasks. It didn’t take long before I was working in the kitchen. And I found helping out at the campfires to be fun. It was someone else’s job but I took it over.

The camp was near Silver Lake. A high country area with lots of good hiking. When not working I spent a lot of time exploring the area. First was Thunder Mountain. The elevation of which is almost 10,000 feet.

Another mountain I hiked was Round Top. An elevation over 10,000 feet. The area has an interesting history related to emigration. Mormons crossed the mountains in wagons going west.

While at camp I discovered and read Ayn Rand. It was Atlas Shrugged. It changed my thoughts a great deal. I recall someone telling me, it is a great book, but it isn’t practical.

I was at the camp for two years. I don’t recall many of the things and what year they occurred. What I remember is in my first year taking a long hike.

Some others left for a short hike. I went along later and passed them on the path. We all stopped at an overlook. They went back and I pushed to go further. Going along the path I found a lake. From the lake I went off the trail a little. I then re-found the path and went onward. I made it to a second lake as it was getting dark. Things were going well.

On the way back it got dark. Normally I can keep a trail even in the dark. I have done it for years. From camping in the woods to being at gatherings. But when I got back to the first lake I couldn’t find the trail. I wondered around for a while. Thought about the fact there could be dangerous animals around. Figured they weren’t because of the population. But made plenty of noise to scare them away.

I also thought about the fact people would notice I was gone. And someone did notice. At some point I just sat down in one place so I wouldn’t fall and hurt myself. The moon was up and it was cold. But it wasn’t dark and it wasn’t freezing.

When the morning came I found the path. I wasn’t too far from it, but it was narrow. Back on the path I headed back to the camp. It was early still. On the trail I saw some people with a dog. They asked who I was, and said they were looking for me. We walked back to the camp, and had some hot chocolate.

The people at the camp were worried about me. But my friends when I told them said, “that sounds fun.” Of course I was telling them of the event afterwards. And the people at the camp were dealing with it as it happened. I took a moment to apologize to everyone for the scare. And to acknowledge I had made a mistake in going forward.

Looking back I know there were things which upset me. But at this point it seems petty. Bringing all those issues up now seems silly. I feel silly to have been upset. I have tried through my life to become unmoved from my center. Allowing fewer and fewer things to disturb me. And I think I have been successful.

My father came and had a great visit. It was great to see him. It has been a couple years since we spent time together.

After the first year I went to visit a friend in New York City. I recall getting to the city just a month after 9/11. One month earlier at the camp, the night before 9/11 I was sure I wanted to die. If I had real sleeping pills instead of melatonin I might have killed myself.

The day of 9/11 was surreal. I woke up and walked by the office. Something made me pause and listen to the radio. Maybe it was the simple fact the radio wasn’t normally played. It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on, this was before the towers fell.

There were two things going through my head. One was a bit of surprise. Someone had finally done it, attacked America. I’m not saying our country deserved the attack. But in a world with so many foes. At some point someone was going to at least try such an attack. In the aftermath so many said, “we never thought this would happen.” And I had wondered about such an attack taking place.

The other thought was a bit of fear. I said to myself: “people I know will go to jail for this.” I didn’t know terrorists. Well, not on the world stage. There were people I knew who stood at the fringe. And our country has a history. It often reacts with fear. And cracks down on the fringe. There was no TV at the camp. The closest was down the road. So I walked down to watch the TV. Some have condemned the TV networks for showing the towers falling over and over. But I watched it over and over. And it just didn’t seem real. I wanted to see it again. A part of my brain didn’t understand. Show it again, it kept saying.

After the first year I planned to come back. During the second year I met a friendly couple. They worked at the camp. They were retired. We were friendly. It was them who told me about Yosemite. They told me how to apply online and I did it when I got home. I think I had known about the website before, but never used it to find a job. Even now I forget about coolworks.com at times.

During my second year I understood the camp’s culture better. There were a number of people who had been going there for years. They knew each other. It was a family tradition. Something I know little about because I hardly had a family. And we had no traditions.

Working at the camp was a settled period in my life. The fact it led me to work in Yosemite changed my life. I was on a different track. And had different ideas after reading Ayn Rand.

Timeline of events

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I graduated from high school in the summer of 1994. My first year of college was fall of 1994. And spring of 1995.

I spent the summer of 1995 at college, living in the dorms. I worked at Subway.

My second year of college was from fall of 1995 to the summer of 1996. It was at the start of 1996 I became vegetarian. And I started my period on the streets in the summer of 1996.

For most of 1996 I was in Santa Cruz. But I spent time in San Francisco. In the winter months early in 1997 I met Amy. And I lived with her for a couple months. Until I met M.

Over the summer of 1997 M and I traveled. We went to my first Rainbow Gathering. Then we visited her father in Seattle. Afterwards we hitch-hiked our way across the country to Cambridge, Massachusetts. And we hitch-hiked back.

It was the winter of 1997 I went to visit M for Thanksgiving. We made plans for me to move and live together.

In the spring of 1998 I moved to Portland. Plans with M didn’t work out. After a few wet months I rented a room in a house. The first time I paid rent in my life, if you don’t count the college.

I lived in Portland until the spring of 1999. In the summer I went traveling with a friend across the country. We went to my second Rainbow Gathering.

After coming home to Portland, I moved to upstate New York. This is where I was for New Years 2000. But in the spring of 2000 I went back to California, and then to my third gathering. This one was in Montana.

After the gathering I went to Colorado. And then back to California. I moved to Portland again in the fall of 2000. I was in Portland for the election of George W. Bush. But I moved again early spring.

Once again plans were made with M. But once again things changed. So I moved back to California. I spent a month at Mother’s. But I got a job at a camp in the Sierra’s for the summer. It was 2001. And in the fall I went to New York City. Yeah, just one month after 9/11.

It was because a friend invited me to visit. After three months, she said no one ever visited for three months before. And I started back to California. It was 2002. Along the way I visited Alabama where a friend lived.

In the spring of 2002 I lived with Mother, and my sister for a short period. After a short trip to Portland to visit friends, I went traveling again. And I went to my fourth Rainbow Gathering. Before making a visit to Boulder. Then returning to California.

Back in California again. I worked at the summer camp. There I met someone who told me about Yosemite. After the summer I moved to Yosemite.

Yosemite was my home from winter of 2002, to early in 2005. A little over two years. Then I moved to Stockton. And I went back to school. After a year and six months I moved to Humboldt, and Humboldt State. The summer of 2006.

I lived in Arcata from the summer of 2006, until early 2009. Then I moved to Wyoming for my first real reporter job. And I lost my first real reporter job and moved back to Arcata.

This time I lived in Arcata from late spring 2009, until fall of 2010. When I moved to Colorado. After six months in the mountains I moved to Nebraska.

I arrived in Nebraska in January of 2011. And I moved away from Nebraska in the summer of 2012. Texas was the next place I lived.

And I lived in Texas from the summer of 2012, until the summer of 2013. For the last two years I have lived in Vancouver, Washington.

New Years Day Location:
1990-1994 Coarsegold
1994-1996 Scotts Valley
1997 Santa Cruz
1998 Santa Cruz
1999 Portland
2000 Glens Falls, New York
2001 Portland
2002 New York City
2003-2005 Yosemite
2006-2010 Arcata
2011-2102 North Platte, Nebraka
2013 Lubock, Texas
2014- Vancouver, Washington.

Okay, shows over time to go home. No, I just wanted to lay out the timeline for a confusing lifeline. It took me a good deal of thought to get it straight in my own head. And I was there, well mostly there. Now I can go back and tell the stories. If you get lost you can return to this chapter to guide you. I think I will have to come back myself.

Car Problems

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Here I am 16 years later. Sitting alone in a rented room. With a job in customer service which doesn’t pay enough. I am older, but nothing else has changed.

My finances are just as shoddy as they have been for years. I have no real savings to account for my life. No amount of money, no real items of value. Not even any close friendships. What have I done for 16 years, but tread water.

Today my car broke down and it makes me feel so helpless. It means more of a cost on my credit cards. A couple years ago I thought I could start to make progress. But now I am further in debt than ever. I hate having to work to pay debt. There is a part of myself which would love to drop it all and hit the road.

But I know my problems will be waiting for me when I stop. Only they will be worse for not having been tended during my absence. Why can’t I win the lotto and just pay off my debt. Oh yeah, I never play the lotto.

It isn’t the car problems. It is my life problems. As much as I like working at Walmart. I still think about quitting. It wouldn’t be easy. Most of all without another job which could support me. Even if I had to pick up and move. But moving itself is another cost. And I could afford to take the leap if I had confidence of where I would land.

There are many people I could see myself with right now. But most of all I see myself alone. And I am. In a deep way I feel like I am losing my ability to relate to people in a meaningful connection. For too long all my relationships have been perfectly surface images.

It is a down day for me for sure. But I have been feeling restless for a while now. I want this job to take me somewhere, I want to go somewhere. Or I want to go somewhere. Washington and Oregon hasn’t turned out to be the home I imagined it might be when I moved here. Maybe Salida. Maybe Arkansas. Maybe Utopia.

This morning before the car wouldn’t start I read an article about New York City. And it made me want to go back. I miss the subways. I miss Times Square. I miss the city in a way I don’t miss many places. The Turtle Pond. The Castle. The Williamsburg Bridge. And my car not starting could have been a sign. Go back to where you don’t need your car. But how would I live in the city. Where would I work? How would I pay rent? Would I be any better off at the end of the day?

Or would I still be me, with the same problems, in a different show.`

Maybe I should be brave and do something real. But at the same time I know I have many real things holding me down. And one persons act of bravery is another person’s act of stupidity. Take the Darwin Awards. Are they wrecklessly insane? or wrecklessly courageous?

Does it matter in the end if the results are the same? And the results of poor planning are rarely an improvement. At least they have not been so far for myself.

And I pick up and move to Tuscon, Arizona. The sunny desert. Except when it isn’t and it is cold. And I have no friends there, even less than here. And I start from the ground and I think life will be better. But then like moving here from Texas. Like when I moved to Texas from Nebraska. Or from Colorado to Nebraska. Life is the same. The problems are the same.

At least here I have a little more hope I can keep building towards a future where I won’t be so desperate. So broke. So alone. You can’t build anything when you are moving all the time. And I have been moving too much already. I want to rest. I want to sleep. I want to stop. I want to die.

How do you believe the world will end? In fire or ice? Will our universe start to collapse into a new big bang? Or extend itself too far, and all it’s energy be diluted. The universe frozen to death.

And maybe the lotto wouldn’t fix my problems. What would I really choose to do today if I had no debts from yesterday. It is almost too scary to think about, to ask. I would be free. Would I know what to do with so much freedom? Would I remain like an elephant in my chains? Would it make me feel any better about myself and my life. And how much longer until I was in debt again?

Write people tell me. You’re a great writer. I don’t care. I may be a good writer, but I am not Stephen King. I am not J.D. Robb. Not even J.K. Rowling. There is a difference between writing things people like to read and things people will pay money to read. And who pays money for books anymore?

I don’t doubt my skill. I doubt the world cares about my skill enough for them to value me and my life. And it isn’t the world’s job to care about me. It isn’t my friends or family’s job to care for me or about me. We are all doing out best afterall. And I am not the only one with problems. Not the only one broken by this life. Not the only one alone in this world. Not the only one.

Why have I created this world for myself? What could I be hoping to learn? And why have I not learned it yet. It is like the email I keep in my inbox for coding lessons. I want to learn SQL and make a database to create my own computer flash cards. But I also want to learn Spanish, and French. I would like to learn English better too.

Okay, I give up for today. It is time for bed. Maybe tomorrow will feel like a better day.