The most recent post from my http://hfx_ben.livejournal.com LiveJournal:

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How nasty are "nice" yuppies?

I just got email from the woman, my cousin, who owns this house. Because last night I was "under the influence and hectoring" she has ordered me out of the house by this weekend.

Last night I celebrated Tibetan New Year by reading my text of Gesar of Ling ... I had two shots of rum over the coarse of the evening ... at midnight I sang the Shambhala Anthem under my breath then went out in the backyard and played it on my recorder ... quietly.

That, from the woman who scolded me for putting a stack of newspapers into the newspaper rack beside the couch (she wanted them left out ... they were 2 feet away from the coffee table they'd been sitting on) is unacceptable behaviour.

Bourgeois yuppies are insane ... they're dangerous.

And I'm homeless. Again.

shit, ehh?

IMNSHO there is no greater sin than undercutting someone's self-esteem.

<i>Addend'uh</i>: Vitriol? Bombast? What I'm saying is that we ignore little things 'cause they're little, and we suffer big things 'cause they're too big to resist. Bottom line: our denials and aversions and deceptions set us up to be victimized and manipulated.


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Previously, also from http://hfx_ben.livejournal.com

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It looks like I am actually a fundamentalist ... sorta

Fundamental: actions and events have their effect even when folk think they can sweep them under the carpet or use words to distort them.

The alienation I've felt all my life has a real basis: I cannot trust the people around me nor rely on their affection because they are dedicated to the fictions they have constructed. They feel uneasy with me because I am not loyal to those fictions. Because I place my trust in actuality and truth ("glorious phenomenal world") I am seen by them as a traitor, as disloyal and dangerous ... in the end, as an enemy.

None of this is new to me but I've never understood it as well as I do now. The woman who so kindly allowed me to move in here ignored all the good I've done , with her son and with the hosue (When she left he was spending all his time out with his crack-head friends or in his cellar room, keeping a vampire's schedule but now he's got a decent tech job with Dell. And I'm no neat freak but the house is clean ... it's sensibly tidy, rathter than the cluttered mess I came into when she went on her long voyage.) ... she has to mock and belittle me because what I've done I've managed to do by calling a spade a spade ... and that frightens her, it antagonises her. She has not faced up to things in the past (either making them less than they were or blowing them out of proportion) and she doesn't face things now (saying that it's not worth making a fuss about little things, and that there's no point to making things into a big deal).

But bottom line: I was unable to bottle it up. (I /should/ be able to digest the shit, I /should/ be able to work through things ... but I'm tired, harassed, worn, poor, aching ... and I didn't manage to digest it /all/.) and when I lost my temper a lot of stuff came out at once ... too much. So I could be pointed at and declared "not nice".

So the shit and abuse he hands out so routinely, that's ok. (He fried steak in sauce on Tuesday ... it's Sunday ... the frypan is sitting on the stove /still/.) Her sleazy cheap-shot put downs ... that's ok. But my refusing to live in a situation of walking on egg shells, always on thin ice, daily life in a mine-field ... nope ... that's not ok.

So I'm better off in a couple of ways: I've basically confirmed and verified my "fundamental beliefs". And I see even more clearly how folk deserve solidarity and sympathy and compassion. And I see how I'm not hooked on resentment and revenge.

But I'm facing homelessness and poverty.

Wow ...

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Update ... a funny detail: since she got back from her long voyage the kitchen table has been more or less covered with various things ... week-old phone messages, mail, brochures, newspapers. I brought it up a few days back, saying how I didn't feel comfortable messing with other people's stuff. In a deniably snotty voice she answered something like, "Well, if it's like that then I guess I'll have to do housekeeping everyday." Nothing about considering other people, nothing about not leaving things dragging, nothing like that at all ... just a bulshit cheap-shot.

Just now I went down to the kitchen to get a cuppa and Lo! Behold! The space at the head of the table where I had once upon a time enjoyed my breakfast in the morning sun was cleared ... clean. She had had her breakfast there, but when she left she left it uncluttered. What's the dynamic? a) she's made a gesture to acknowledge that I wasn't full of shit, or b) she's being better than good in order to show I had no complaint. Hard to know, ehh?