I'm Homeless

A few weeks ago I found my self officially homeless. How you ask? Up until then I lived in a secret room hidden in the back of an old 1926 Baptist church designed by Julia Morgan smack in the middle of Oakland. One day a student group comes by and tells me they were promised rooms for the summer, that a contract was signed which proved it. I believed them except no one told me, all the people in charge had gone off on a pilgrimage to Israel and maybe forget to mention this minor detail. So I shoved all my things to the hallway and went over to a friends place and crashed on the couch. And that is how I became homeless. Was I put out? Nope, I've been meaning to leave the convenience of the church, in terms of cheap rent, location and emotional attachement, for a while now but never could find the motivation to do it. Being "forced" out in a this sort of way was the perfect catalyst.

What does it mean to be homeless? I think homeless is defined by a lack of resources either by choice or circumstance. Looking at and interacting with the "homeless" on the streets, most seem like they made the choice (with a lot circumstances thrown in often times unbeknownest to them) to reject the resources in their lives. I on the other hand still have my resources: savings, but most importantly a community of people and in the end I could always take advantage of the resources the government provides (if it ever came to that). With a community, you will always have a couch or a floor to crash on, it's amazing how many people offered their homes to me when they heard I was currently nomadic (which is the term I prefer), even strangers, friends of friends I met for the first time that day, offered me a room. What the hell? Amazing, people are rad. And if the friends fall through there's always family who would never let me be truly homeless. I couldn't be homeless if I wanted to. And if I really did I would need to blow my savings and disconnect myself from everyone I know which I don't think I'm capable of doing.

For now I have housesitting gigs lined up for the next month which I enjoy. I'm responsible for feeding the respective pets, being a warm, living body, and making sure the house doesn't burn down usually in exchange for a couch and food. After this month I'll find a couch or sleep in my car, there's always the studio. I'm not concerned, there's this sense of adventure, and the thing is it's not very different from the life I'm currently living anyways - striving to do art full time is a full time adventure, you never know what lies around the corner, every creative idea is literally the next step. A time of austerity as I try to figure out ways to bring in income. For now I have to sacrifice all the fine things in life: the limo, private yacht, personal bodyguard, masseuse, fine wines, gourmet meals, Whole foods groceries, and Krav Maga. 

Sometimes you get breakfast made for you.

Sometimes they leave notes so you can find their place when all the numbers are taken off because the doors are being repainted.

Opium

Velvet Elvis changed my life, Blue Like Jazz a very dope read.

The cat from hell. No really, she's a misunderstood one year old kitty who's really afraid and doesn't know how to interact except by hissing and scratching - like all the kids in Oakland who feel cornered and don't know anything but violence when all they want to do is play. I have scars already from little miss Sam PoppySeed, I have to wear shoes until I get into bed so I could keep my toes, and getting good sleep is iffy because I'm scared of being attacked, this paranoia stays with me when I go to other houses with cats, I flinch when they try to rub against me. But I have to remember she's just misunderstood and needs to be loved even as I dab the blood on my hands. Rawaaghr!!

I'm a nomad

I'm a roamer

I'm romad

I'm a ronin

Green RuckSack

Email: "Dear Dudes, have you seen my green backpacker back pack? It was in the basement but now it's gone. Maybe one of you borrowed it?"

No reply. Lost cause. Gone forever.

2 days later I get a phone call from Zach.

Zach:

"Dave, I just saw your back pack. I was running around the lake and the guy who sits there everyday has it."

Dave:

"Come with me, let's go!"  Sudden adrenaline rush. 

"Wait, we need to take something to exchange with him." So I grab a suitcase from the basement before taking off. 

Dave:

"How you doing? I'm pretty sure that's my back pack. I'm here to ask for it back. Will you give it me? We brought this suitcase here so that you have somewhere to put your clothes." 

Dude with sunglasses and bike that kicks it on the same spot by the lake, you know that guy:

"It's not yours. How do you know it's yours?"

Dave: 

"I could prove it to you. On the inside there's a net and the name of the backpack "Traverse". Check it out. Let's see."

Dude: 

"How do you know? Prove it?

Dave:

"I just told you how."

Dude:

"Prove it."

Starting to get angry - this is going no where, contemplating just grabbing it and running or taking the bike and then when he asks for it back, saying "prove it" "how do you know?" But I decide to call the cops. Not wanting to add another petty, ugly thing to all the other petty, stupid things already existing in Oakland. I even think about just letting him have it and walking away - maybe he really needs it, I have the means (somehow or another -  even though the backpack cost me $300 and I'm pretty broke), maybe he doesn't, he's homeless or at least plays the part well. 

For some reason the cops can't find us. It's stupid.

The dude gets tired of waiting and decides to hop on his bike and ride to the local OPD substation. We chase him. It's kind of a hilarious sight; one bearded asian dude, one bearded white dude running behind a black, bearded dude on a bike. The substation was empty so he road on. We're getting pretty upset at this point. Feeling stupid.  We happen to see a cop car and tell them the short version. They catch him. He refuses to return the backpack for a long while and finally decides he would. The cops can't legally make him even though I could describe distinguishing features.

The pack reeks of bum and piss. I wash and leave it out back to dry. It gets stolen again. I can't win. 

It's sentimental. She's been with me to over 20 countries. I try to take her out once in while so that she can live to her fullest potential. Do what she was created to do. I'm afraid whoever has her now wouldn't. Stuck in the urban jungle.

I run the lake a few times a week the see the guy. I try to say hi but he never sees me or feigns it. Whatever. 

Me and her. We were united - one. Now we're separated forever. 

4th and MacArthur and Halmoni

4th of July at lake temescal, officially my favorite park, this is the same park Elaine and I threw our 30th birthday, cake fight, there's hiking, swimming, creeks, bbqs, stone skipping - fun forest and fantasy for the whole family.

Growth

My first gig after finishing the San Pablo and 35 mural. Doing this art piece on plywood panels with the kids from Shalom of Oakland in the East.

I did this sketch and had them grid out the image on the plywood.

Natasha and Halmoni (where I had my first solo show) had it's one year anniversary. I seriously believe this is a model of what businesses in Oakland should be like - shop owners who are genuinely about getting to know people and building community through events and relationship. Businesses should become hubs /club houses where people can come and hang out and create a positive space that radiates into the surrounding blocks. That's how you start the slow transformation of a community. I'm convinced. 

After Party

After the mural was through the team got together for the official afterparty at an undisclosed location in Oakland.