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Just Another Morning at the Shelter

May 8, 2013

This morning’s breakfast consisted of a bowl of corn grits, two corn muffins, and a package of corn flakes, along with the usual orange juice and milk. A guy in the elevator insisted that it was cream of wheat, but it tasted like corn, and the taste and texture were very different from the cream of wheat that we got for nearly every breakfast at Bellevue. For the past several mornings, they haven’t given us fruit at breakfast, as if they can’t afford it on the $20,000 a day they get from the government–$117 per resident per day (my ex-landlord got a little over $31 per day).

My clothes reek of tobacco as I write this because of the brazen smoking that occurred in the bathroom today far worse than usual, and of course, nobody got busted.

Mr. Stereotype’s Maxim pics and pictures of his family are now folded up in my locker because I thought he’d be coming back for them. I think he got transferred. He lost his bed because he got caught jumping a turnstile while on parole and got kept all night at the police station. I last saw him downstairs the other night trying to get a bed. I have not seen him since, so I assume that he has been transferred.

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3 Comments
  1. Judy permalink

    My name is Judith Hutchins b 1974 and my father was Osburne Clarke Hutchins. Of BLOOMFIELD NJ…
    Our fathers were brothers. Contact me

  2. One thing I forgot to mention, perhaps because it was positive, occurred the night before this happened. I fell asleep reading the letter column Weird War Tales comic I bought Friday. I’m usually so exhausted at night that it takes two evenings to finish a comic book. It took me four evenings to finish the double-sized DC Super-Stars #18. The letter column was kind of boring because it was all praise for Sgt. Rock because WWT didn’t get any letters (it was canceled a few issues later. Around the same time, Secrets of Haunted House was canceled, and they were so desperate to fill letter columns that one addressed to Linda [sic] Carter was a love letter to Wonder Woman from a 10 year-old boy. In a horror comic?), so it doesn’t surprise me that I fell asleep, considering how often it happens.

    Between my bladder and the fact that my contact lenses were still in, I woke up around midnight or 2 (no clocks, remember) and found that the issue was in the bag and board with the back cover facing out. I would never put it in this way, so it suggests that someone saw this and was looking out for me and knew that I would want the comic, in spite of its creases, cared for (and not stolen). The new guy in the bed across from me reads comics, but he doesn’t care for them. The other day, he pulled out recent Fantastic Four and X-Men comics that he had creased down the middle. Another guy a few weeks ago was concerned that I was buying stolen comics of his from someone else at the shelter, but I assured him that everything I bought came from a brick-and-mortar store.

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