Patience in Clarity and in Expression

Interesting day. It reminds me of the first days I spent on Skid Row when the emotional twists and turn changed in direction every couple of minutes, with sharp stabs of pain so strong it was like your body and soul were taking body punches from Joe Frazier.

I turned to my origional blog site at blogomonster. I was searching for inspiration. I found it.
41. 41 people had viewed a blog. Of course it was not at once. However, over period of time that many people read it, or at least saw it. Let us also note that a certain amount of discount must be factored in because you never know if the spam "viewers" were in the count. (Dam spam. They even mess up your blog. Assholes). None the less I had 41 viewers. Wow. I thought I would never get there. Seems like nothing to the veteran bloggers but to me, that is like a sold out stadium.

I looked at the name of the blog that had that many. "progress in patienc" was the name.
Fitting. Very Fitting. I found my inspiration. I need patience. I need the guts to have patience.
I thought of that woman that stands at the door of the Midnight Mission every day without moving waiting for her chance to pick the first bed.

I had nothing in the form of readers a few weeks ago. Now, I have 41 who at least consider reading my blog. As soon as I can get a friend to help me insert my analytics I will know for sure how many I have and can begin to dissect my demographics.

Ah yes. Demographics. Any one who went to Penn and studied economics and marketing knows alot about demographics. Any real estate man who knows anything about real estate better know alot about demographics.

The night before I met such a man. I have been wanting to meet this man for fifteen years.
I did not tell him that but some day I will. He does that type of real estate that I grew to love when I was living in Philadelphia.

We talked about Skid Row last night. A few of us did and he was one of them. We had a pretty eclectic crowd at the table. Each of us was from a different part of the country. We had most major ethnic groups. We all had a universal frame of mind. It was refreshing to hear conversation that was not spiked with a "group think" mentality. That mentality costs the United States alot in the international world. At least our table was clear of it. As one said.
"Walter, from here we start from the inside out". He meant that we all get along. We all accept eachother and perhaps downtown can be the place that begins to heal the rest of the city because it is indeed the melting pot of the city.

Nobody had the answers at that table. We all knew what has not worked. We have decades of evidence to support that. We all had questions. We all searched for questions. We we exploring the factors of what kept people apart in agreement. What are the forces that keep people apart are more important than the actual reason. Understand the forces and you can change the reason.

I listened to this man that I have been wanting to meet for so long. I have wanted to work for him for so long but I had to get myself together first. My resume was sitting in his email box but he did not know it. I had to smile to myself. "Patience, Walter". It took you years to get this far only because you wanted to be for real. You did not want to be Walter the suit wearing man in business with the reputation of a tennis champion and the closet drug user behind close doors.
That is why it took so long.

I listened and enjoyed a night of witty conversation, satire and repartee. I did not want it to end. I wanted to write about it. I wanted more of it. I thirst for it. "Patience, Walter."

I was down when I woke up. When I walk to get breakfast, I past by the building where I would have worked. I have to look some more. I thought of the man who held court last night and wondered if he saw my resume. I hate those fucking things. Why? They most important things, in this case, about me, are things that are not on paper. On paper, the credentials speak for themselves. The people skills that I bring to his team are skills that are invaluable if not
tangible in the written form. "Patience, Walter".

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I flashed back to the Mayor's lecture and the video I took of it. I flashed on the names I saw carved into the stones on the patio. I knew those names. I went to school with the sons of the men and women shose names were on the stones. It felt good. I was on my way back.
I was sad because I knew I had to leave for awhile again. There were no guarantees that I would return. However in the last month I have been to several press conferences and lectures.

I said I needed to wait until I fixed my teeth to try to interview with this man but last night I felt it didnt matter. I might make a stab at it sooner. "Paience Walter".

I tried to see a doctor about my hernia. Four hour wait. I would have to wait a year. I would have to wait 4 hours to MAYBE see a dentist. How depressing. I walked out of that clinic shaking my head. I looked and saw his building in the distance. " Walter, his building is there. Your resume is there. You did not even know it was there. "Patience ".

Those health care professionals give their all. They need for people like me to have patience.
How much patience do they have to exercise each day dealing with the needs of a community that demands so much, needs so much and trust so little. They need to trust this man. They do not know this man. They need to trust him. They need to know that making money and compassion for people are not mutually exclusive.

I want to tell them. "Look, do not follow the "group think" attitude on the streets of Skid Row.
Do not think that every one is your enemy. I went to school with buys who build skycrapers who have been seaching for ways to help you. They did not know how to bridge that gap. They did not know how to tell you that they care. Stay away from those that preach hate and divisiveness because they have their own agenda. They are the ones who want to sell you the drugs. They want you in the street. "

They think that because some one has the same color of skin, they are friends. Horseshit.
In the streets of Skid Row smiling faces tell the most lies. "Patience, Walter" You have a ways to go before you can teach again. teach yourself first. Hang in there.

I walk pass a man and I think I do not have to hear him say "weed" "the best cavi".
I get sick when he says those words. He says them. I don't escape.

I talk to a City Attorney. He wants to do so much for the people. He knows I am down. He is worried that I may go backwards. "Hey man, let me tell you something. No way in hell, I am going back to fools gold. "

This man, my friend, the attorney, has no idea how good he is. I know. I know how good he is.
I can't tell him. I have to show him. I have to show him that he provides me with the courage to hang on. "Patience , Walter."

I walk into the evening night. Lights are glistening from the streets to the top of penthouse suites. Dam, I am getting angry. That is good. Anger is good. Use it to build. Dam, I have 41 readers. A stadium. I laugh to myself as I head toward my destination. I am there now, the public library. Focused. I am here practicing my new passion. I cuss at the fact that I have no means to upload the film of last night, to report , to show the sparkling lights in the downtown
night.

I think of a magazine I saw the other night. I see it on the net every so often. It inspires me.
I saw the staff pose for a picture. I read a letter to the city of LA from the publisher. I have read it a few times. Dam, I have a lot to learn. I am wasted so much time.

I think of one of my oldest friends. He was like an older brother to me. He worked for Xerox, I had to work for Xerox. He worked for Anheuser Busch, I worked for a beer distributorship.
He introduced sports marketing to Nestle. I worked for a sports marketing agency.
He wrote. I never thought I could write. The more drugs I did the less I thought I could write.
Now I am writing. I tell all of the people I see on the street. You can do it. I have been writing
to myself for years building confidence again. My friend does not know that each word I write I think of him. Each word I write I pray he will want to see me again.

"Patience, Walter. A few months ago you were taking paper out of copiers to write. "

I see a comment and it is from the man whose magazine I saw. I will be damned. I just saw it.
Can you believe that. "Patience Walter. "
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8:30AM Wednesday Morning---the next morning

I had to leave the blog unfinished. the library was closing. I was going to finish the blog this morning. I decided to leave it unfinished like a painting or novel.

However, I will say this. I went to sleep feeling serene. It was a new feeling. I went to the library last night, feeling abandoned because I found out that the friend about whom I spoke, the older brother fellow, does not want to speak to me. It amazes me that people do not want to speak to me now that I am not doing drugs. Why didn't they not speak to me while I WAS doing drugs. I was told that he does not believe that I discontinued drug use.

Early yesterday, I mentioned to a friend about an idea about a magazine. While talking to him about it, I was thinking of a magazine staff of a magazine that I have seen online. I have seen them on many occasions in a picture. Four of them are in the picture. they were actually a source of motivation. Anyway, I wrote about a comment on one of my blogs. I had just seen it when I wrote about it. I first thought it was from another blogger. Instead it was from someone from the magazine about which I was just writing. I was flabbergasted.

How many times does that happen? Was it from just the one person that made the comment or was it from all
of them. Maybe the other three were just the automatic signature. Anyway I felt that perhaps I have found new friends. I did not feel alone. I felt secure in the fact that I am carving out a new life, wood shaving by wood shaving.

I am learning to not fight the perceptions of old friends. I feel they should at least hear what I have to say.
I cried myself to sleep too many times frustrated that my sister would not talk to me, that she would believe someone she does not even know instead of , at least talking to me. My old friend , the same thing.
I cried because I wish he knew how much I wish I could have been like him in many ways. I had no idea that drugs impeded my progress. Sounds crazy. I know it does. However a person does not see things until he is removed from it. Anyway, thanks to Brad. You have no clue how many times that picture of the staff motivated me to continue writing long before I ever started blogging.

That comment, along with the last few days, confirms to me that I am developing a support network with new friends. Friends that believe what I say. Friends who accept me as I present myself. In Downtown Los Angeles, people must accept eachother because we are so close. My dream is that we can be an example to the rest of the city and then to the world. Some people call it eclectic. I call it common sense.

I am now at an agency. I never know where I am going to be able to use a computer. I never know if I will be able to upload pictures. Once I figure out my equipment, I will start uploading videos to add to the story. I have nice video of the cocktail party after the Mayor's interview Monday night. Downtown Los Angeles looks
splendid with the thousands of night lights.
Anyway, back to reality.
Good morning, world. I love you.