Snores flooded the shelter last night. At 5am the cook woke us up to let us know, she wasn't going to wake us up. She also let us know a little girl who was missing was found molested and in a beer barrel I the middle of a lake. Good morning to you too. At first I wondered if she just didn't know how to wake people up without insighting trauma. Then I realized that the terror obsessed news cycle wakes every morning news watcher up in the same traumatizing way.
I spent some time at the hospitality house where the community can make art for free. Partly to avoid the rain and partly because I wanted a quit space to sit. I forget this wonderful place is so near to my condo, and forget to make time for art in the midsts of my busy schedule.
Yet my cultural contemplation as an intersex resident of the shelter is getting yelled at, but it's hard to tell what for. If I were going to yell, I'd yell about the lack of toilet paper in the bathrooms, the missing stall door in the communal bathroom, the fact that they don't even give soap to the 20 or so women who stay here (for hand washing or showers). You can get a towel if you give them your ID. Perhaps we should have a bill of rights that say all people are entitled a respectful place to go to the bathroom.
Each time you go to a hotel save collect the toiletries each night and donate them to the local organizations that serve the homeless. And if you buy those ginormous packs I toilet paper at a bulk warehouse type of place donate a roll or to to the organizations that work with the poor. Oh how happy I'd be to come across some two-ply about now.
Tonight I'm saying a special prayer for all the musicians who play music in the subways. I sang in BART tonight and got some love and some cash. May God(dess) remove the scales from our eyes and the earphones from our ears so we can hear the music that is all around us. The rhythmical snoring is a prayer of a few women safe enough to sleep tonight, out of the rain - for now.