Shifty Osgood writing.  Thought I'd update y'all to let y'all know what's shakin'.

Not much is shakin', I'm afraid.  Life continues to be something of an enigma for me.  Everytime I try to better myself by getting a job, they tell me to clean up my act or get a home (or permanent address); they don't want me stealing 'em blind or poisonin' 'em with my stink.

I'm sorry.  I can't help it.  I am homeless.  I am trying like hell to find somewhere to live or to get some money to where I CAN get stuff to clean myself up, but when people chase me away like I'm some sort of rabid dog, then what on earth AM I supposed TO do??  Lie in the gutter and kill myself or just wait to die??

Seems that's what people want.  To most people I am nothing but a burden, a leech, a leper.  I know I smell. I know I'm homeless.  I'm sorry.  I can't help it.  Life has been cruel to me, but I still try to keep going, y'know??

Since it's been so hot here (highs in the upper 90's to lower to mid 100's), I have been takin' up residence in the  park, underneath the shade trees, or until the cops chase me out.  Then I go under a bridge and cry myself to sleep, or if it rains, I go duckin' inside a building entryway or in one of the dark alleyways, next to the dumpsters or trash cans.

At night, when all the nasty bugs are out, I try to find a shelter to shack up for the night, but they're usually too full, so I sleep on a street corner, underneath a bridge, or find a church that will allow me to stay for the night (or a few days, anyway).  Usually I'm not successful, but that doesn't make me give up trying.  There's gotta be some kind hearted people somewhere who are willing to help a fellow (disabled) Veteran who's down on his luck!

Don't help the city is readyin' itself for their annual Fourth of July bash.  I know it's free and all, but crowds, honestly, scare me.  I don't like people yelling at me or trying to run me off.  So I just stay somewhere and feel sorry for myself and see if I can find something to drink to soothe my poor, raw, parched throat.  Or I look in the trash bins for something that's halfway edible to slake my growling stomach and gnawing hunger pains.

I would love to see the fireworks bursting overhead, but again, the crowds prevent me from doing it.  I am claustrophobic anyway; maybe it's better I stay away; after all, I can see the firewworks when they bloom overhead like a bouquet of colorful flowers.  So it's not so bad.  Yet I feel I have nothing to celebrate except being reminded that I am not free from homelessness or people treating me like a pariah.

Well, I've done depressed myelf again, so I'm gonna go and see if I can find a beer to chug down and hang out at one of the local bars and listen to Hank Sr. moan the blues.  Heaven knows, I know how the poor guy feels because I have every reason to moan the blues, too.

~Shifty.

~To be continued.~