i remember walking along a seawall in victoria each morning when i was homeless. Every day i walked past the boats and the blackberry bushes and the dead seagulls in oil patches. Going to my panhandling spot for another day of pride killing.
I would hitchhike to each place i went which became second nature. I rode in the back of a pickup listening to tool die on my tapeplayer as the batteries waned out bringing the music to a slow stop.
When blackberry season came around i gathered as many as i could and boiled them down to a jam and stole a loaf of bread (this is when i was staying at a friends house for about a week while it was available) and made awesome blackberry sandwhiches.
Before this i was in kamloops barely holding on to a place with absolutely no money. In kamloops it was all just a matter of garden raiding. In the hight of the season i would be able to collect everything from hot peppers, potatoes and corn to watermelons, and various forms of plums. Sometimes i would build a fire down by the river and roast the corn in the coals and watch the sun rise and think about the last ten or so years of my life.
These things....

once, years earlier than this i was kicked out of my house and slept in a bank teller room. At around 5 in the morning i stole morning newspapers and brought them to my friends house where i asked for a place to sleep.
oh nice mild stories for ya

now i need sleep