St. George, Part 2

My friend George lost his housing in Houston, Texas last year in July after an extended hospital stay. After several months in and out of the VA Hospital, getting robbed of his phone, nearly losing what little he had left after his eviction, George landed in a "long-term" transitional housing place.

George got his heart medication and head medication (he is bipolar) straightened out and was teaching himself code writing online at the housing place.

Abruptly, one month away from getting a housing voucher for a one bedroom, he was told to leave the transitional housing place no explanation given.

Right now George is bouncing around in some emergency shelters, which are crowded, noisy, not always safe and impossible to sleep in.

George is three months younger than me and will be 54 in September. He suffered a half dozen heart attacks several years back, partly due to inherited heart disease and even with a positive attitude he is physically fragile.

Like me, George's parents and most of his relatives are dead and he also has no spouse.

This is what America is like for those of us singletons who are sole bread winners. Zero safety net.

Please donate to George on his PayPal site here.

Two Thirds

Oh, why does this not even surprise me a teeny tiny bit?

How Student Debt is Worsening Gender & Racial Injustice

Fucking brilliant!

No, the sexbots won't save you

Been a while since I visited Feministing and this article in response to the Toronto mass murder and Ross Douthat's ass-hat essay is dead on.

Marginalized people who society frequently ridicules and presumes incapable of desiring or of being desired — fat people, disabled people, people of color, trans and queer people — have not created online communities to plot violent revenge against women. It is only white, straight, cisgender men — who are repeatedly told by our culture that theirs are the only desires that matter, that they are entitled to power over other people’s bodies — who react in this way.

Jess Fournier's entire essay can be read here.

 

Did you fall and hit your head

I've joined a dubious club. I'm now a member of the Head Injury gang. On President's Day weekend while walking home from an exercise class I slipped on some black ice. Technically, it wasn't black, it was clear as glass and coating every outside surface on the morning of Saturday, February 17.

I didn't just fall, I did a Jerry Lewis pratfall. For a millisecond I was airborne floating to the frozen pavement on my back. I have no memory of hitting my head, only sitting up with my ears ringing, my scalp stinging and my ass and legs in someone's driveway.

I was dazed, very tired but nothing else was off. Until the next morning.

I got up at six on Sunday, did some chores, cleaned a bit before the next planned exercise class. But I have no memory of cleaning or doing chores. Nada. Before 11:00 am everything is a black hole. I remember standing in my living room calling my friend for, what she said was, the fifth time in 20 minutes.

At the hospital I fell asleep, on the ER bed, on the CT scan table, etc. I couldn't remember where I worked or my boss's name. I couldn't remember my friend and I visiting a club the evening before.

By Sunday evening 90-percent of my memory had returned. But still to be betrayed by that most vital of organs.

A month on, I still have vertigo/dizzy spells. I still have to sleep at least nine hours a night. I'm still hyper sensitive to light. I still get weird headaches that start behind my eyes and feel like my head is filling with sand.

But still ...