I slept in my car last night. Not because I’m homeless, my rent runs through the end of April, but because if I don’t find a job to replace Tummies I most definitely will be homeless.
I once read that in preparation for the battle against the US on Iwo Jima, Japanese soldiers, who planned on fighting from tunnels carved deep within a volcano, would expose themselves to extreme heat by sitting in tunnels that were deeper than the ones built for the battle. These deep little tunnels would put the soldiers in heat near 120 degrees. By sitting in these extreme temperatures they would condition themselves to be able to fight in their other tunnels at ease.
That’s what I’m doing now. I’m sitting in the hot volcanic tunnels to prepare myself for being homeless. That siad, there are some good parts about having to sleep out of your car.
One, when I become famous in the adult entertainment industry I’ll have a Jewel-like story about having to live in my car, which is great memoir material for down the road.
Two, I recently saw Into the Wild, and that shit makes me think car living is pretty awesome.
Three, my car has a power adapter so I can continue to write DICKS and make industry related phone calls without having to worry about my batteries dying.
Four, I never have to drive home drunk, I just have to stumble back to my car and cover up with a blanket.
Five, I don’t have a five, I only have four reasons why living in my car would be good.
I’m sure I’ll have offers to crash on couches when I begin to cramp up and permanently change my bone structure from too much time spent in a bucket seat(I don’t actually have bucket seats in my car but I always thought they were cool). My cousin even said I could crash on his tiny Ikea couch when things get rough, which is big of him since this was after he read my blog posting yesterday. He did say specifically “after” things got rough, so I’m sure he wouldn’t hate for me to deal with a little bit of suffering for my honesty yesterday.
I had a realization earlier that I may truly not need a physical place to put my head. I go to my gym every day to continue the impossible task of six packing my stomach. My gym has showers, soap, is twenty four hours and I have a feeling they wouldn’t ask questions if I rolled in for my morning cleansing and shave on a regular basis. Membership fees there are $45 dollars a month. I’ve been writing either out of my car or at the local library, which on Tuesday and Thursdays offers free coffee if I sit in on Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and considering I’m entering an industry lush with narcotics abuse I look at my time spent at those sessions as a valuable pre-emptive strike against my addictive personality(I’ve been drinking a soda a day since childhood, maliciously chew my nails and could play videogames to a point of muscle atrophy in all parts of my body except what would become very strong hands and forearms). A library card costs $0.
Basically, if I can learn to sleep soundly in my nineteen ninety four ford tempo(that’s right, seventeen years old homey), I’ll be swapping my seven hundred dollar rent for forty five dollars and the ability to literally live anywhere in the city that has a street to park on. This I have no doubt is doable, as I once slept regularly in the car ride to and from the city as a child, generally around christmas. The city was a big deal to country kids.
I’m thinking of starting a new movement based on everything above, I just don’t have a good name for it yet.
All I can come up with is “Carsies” but that sucks a big one.
And it sounds too much like “Crazies.”