storytelling

Tonight at the homeless shelter where I work, we had free pizza and a storytelling party. Process Workers came with recording equipment and, after all the free pizza was eaten and gone, everyone was encouraged to tell their stories.

As a staff person, I felt a little displaced. It was nice, though. I think the clients loved it. I listened from the sidelines and eventually started occupying myself with other things. I pulled out my pile of bar application materials and started filling it all out. Very complicated. Very long.

My favorite overheard story was to do with finding elk bones in the woods and decorating a tent with them. I would love to find elk bones in the woods. Finding elk bones would be like winning the lottory. I have a thing about bones. I think it's a scorpio thing.

An old client just showed up at the door a little while ago, too late for free pizza or anything else. He's drunk as a skunk and not allowed in anyway, but I talked to him through the door. He has a giant bass drum sitting on top of his cart. He offered to sell it to me for ten bucks. I declined. His shoes are missing. I want him to go away because he's drunk and there isn't anything else we can do for him. He's just standing in the door, staring.

Fat Tony is playing guitar. Mohawk is downstairs cleaning up the clothing room. These are my coworkers. We're all a little bit burnt out. We all want to go home.