Well, there are good things about this city, just the pervading California mentality of "Fuck you if you're not rich"... while not the strongest here, the burn of hypocrisy is all the more glaring of what should be a progressive haven.

In the past months while going through hell and back and back again trying to get to England and get a visa while in the city, my savings have been steadily drained by the high cost of living in San Francisco.

Being in the city was (is) essential for two reasons... the visa process, and research for writing projects I have been developing and hopefully finishing very soon.

So while the writing is some time away from being paying, I've been working two jobs to make ends meet; putting in maximum effort for minimum wage. And this isn't living in luxury as 40-60 hrs a week leave little time for partying or anything really but sleep. I live and work at a hostel (that means a dorm room with the staff) and more interestingly on a 'ecological' boat building project run by an incredible filthy fucking rich British person who happens to be apart of a famous historical banking family worth... trillions. Hundreds of billions anyway.

So you'd think that he'd be able to shell out more than $12 an hour for under the table work (for 40+ hours tax free). Ah no, the cliche of the richest pricks are also the tightest runs strong here... And it's funny how I got laid off being told that there's no more work for my position (others still working) when I bring up the subject of a raise.

At least that job was interesting while it lasted. Working at the hostel on 4am cleaning (picking up beer bottles from the party the night before) is faaaaar worse. And without getting into too much detail, because I really could bitch and moan forever about this, the management are trying (and are to a large degree) getting away with paying the staff UNDER minimum wage... which is just fucked. But a number of employees are international so the job is under the table and they don't feel they have the right to complain, even if they are being exploited.

And it's funny how my job at the hostel is also ending when I bring this up.

So this isn't just bitching, I do have a point.

I've been talking to labor lawyers to shut this shit down. Some have been interested, but most aren't, especially considering my lack of funds. So where the hell is the justice?

I have one overarching goal, and that is to finish the book I've been working on for a long time with all my heart and soul. I've put up with a lot of shit in this city (world) and made some pretty bogus compromises in working standards to get it this far, and now the rug is being pulled out from under me when I am within reaching distance of completion, and a paycheck and never having to deal with this shit again.

But... losing two jobs in week is going to make me very homeless pretty fucking soon.

For not working hard enough? Fuck no, for standing up for my rights.

People don't like to hear this shit; they rather take it and drink/smoke/fuck the pain away, if only for just one more night. In my craft, I have a rather unenviable position of yelling BULLSHIT when I see it, and try to get others to see it too and to do something about it, namely fight back. But I find myself alone in these struggles again and again. Which is also BULLSHIT...

So, I have one week, more or less...

If this city, this environment doesn't start making me feel warm and fuzzy and give me back some hope for humanity really soon...
Well without being too cryptic, I'll just say I have recently acquired what I had lost in England, and if it comes down to it, I'm not leaving San Francisco quietly.



Ergoat out.

Things were going well this March.

I had my plane ticket to London in hand, ready to visit my girlfriend, and generally chill out in England after an interesting but kind of shit winter in the Pacific Northwest. It was going to be a very supportive, conducive environment where I was going to finish some large long term writing projects (that I've been working outrageously hard on for... ever), get that bigger paycheck, coast around Europe and make it back to the States in time for Burning Man.

Ahahahaha! Laughs cruel fate; do you think life could EVER be that easy?

After a very long flight from SF to London I was mere minutes away from reuniting with my girlfriend. But the cunts at immigration had different plans.

Upon stepping up to the line of customs agents, the woman who was about to receive me, saw my, long hair, and beard and all, and her face just soured. I knew I was in for the grilling.
Everything checked out after 20 questions from this bitch, except, where's my return ticket? Not on me, but one was purchased. Instead of making the quick check that the ticket in question was in fact in the system, I was put in a holding cell with a group of Middle Eastern guys who were all trying to smuggle themselves in with false passports, etc. (Please keep in mind I have no criminal record)

Being locked in a cell with al queda sucked ass, but hey, it was surely just a misunderstanding that was going to be cleared up shortly. Six hours later, with BBC Kids being the only programming blared from a unadjustable TV in the cell (a new form of psychological torture), I went to my final interview. They had contacted the people I was to be staying with, verified everything that needed to be verified, and it all checked out. So was I going to England? No!

Why? "We have decided to deny you entry to the country due to insufficient evidence that you are going to leave the country." ... despite HAVING a return ticket.

I questioned further, not believing my ears, and was told that being a writer was a real job, and though I had enough funds for the duration of my stay, I had no reason to return to the USA. Like I wanted to stay on their shitty little island.

So without any chance of appeal, I was put on the next flight out back to SF, having to cash in my return ticket.

I spent the next few days, then weeks, and ultimately months trying to get a visitor visa to go to England, applying and reapplying and alyways being told that I needed more documentation than what they had previously asked for. "Oh, you filled out the AB form; you need to fill out the ab form." Each time taking a week or more to process and steadily draining my savings while staying in San Fran.

Finally they denied my visa applications on grounds that, get this, even though my bank statements proved that I had ample funds to travel to England, my deposits into my account were too sporadic. Since I'm a freelance writer, I get paid larger amounts when I finish a project instead of a weekly payments. This apparently is grounds for not BEING FUCKING LET INTO A COUNTRY?!

So this dante's inferno style cycle of hell that I've been dealing with has really fucked with me, stressful as anything, and worst of all, it put such a strain on my girlfriend and my relationship that it slowly tore us apart, and we both had to end it.

So fuck you England, ruiner of relationships.

Oh, but maybe, worst of all, England still has my sword. Held by police after legally being shipped there. That means it's a blood oath fuckers. I'm going to punch with next Limey wanker I see in the face. Luckily (unluckily for him) I work at a hostel, and there's this little British ass-faced weasel who's been pissing me off, so the third American War versus England may begin thusly.

I'm going to finish this post with a haiku

Fucking Burn in Hell England
Your bad teeth chew shit
Hope the Queen dies of ass rot


Ergoat

Title says it; check the details of the very true story of my pre-Burn 2006 months on the Big Island of Hawaii at ergoat.com

...if you're interested that is...

Title says it; check the details of the very true story of my pre-Burn 2006 months on the Big Island of Hawaii at ergoat.com

...if you're interested that is...