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A Spon--soared VolunTier
A Spon–soared VolunTier

Time Waste Cannot
dat’d 06.17.15

all the muck
she smiles as she follows me
from bathroom
to wherever i’m going next
hoping to dull the aim
for a better meal of
then she drops prejudicial remarks
as if she knows me personally
hoping that i’ll explode and be rude
as she has been
but worse maybe even
is the lie
the waiting
of hours when she said not that
so i leave not disappointed but relieved
how though can you draw a picture without that muck
because all around is that muck
yet the aim must only become more directed
you’re an outsider; we can’t help outsiders
sigh wonder then what age is this, again?
all pars the
Fictional VolunTier
look out for my children’s well maybe young adult’s book or maybe better put at least it makes more sense to me that way teenager child’s book ;
the draw of the Sponsors
– thank the Lord!
now the colors of the picture i can’t like much ?

the colors I can’t like much? Who am I? Who says this? In this age? A-loud?
because of all the muck i see into
then leaf outta

Spon Soar
Spon Soar

aside from “The Four Interviews” for The Fictional VolunTier Project

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The Early Morning Stretch
The Early Morning Stretch

aside: in hartford, ct
the food they give us
in that purple van
or from it
the bagged food
was so good
they gave us enough
to last me the six miles walking
all day of writing typing
and two shelter chores
too early wake up
and enough energy till the next day
I think they gave out clothes, too

Another interview from “The Four Interviews”

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Doing Enough
Doing Enough

Another interview:
8. Somewhere in Southern Maine maybe Central ?
6 years ago
pregnant 2nd child
partner and she
through the backroads
from Lewiston to Bangor
because they were
They were staying with family;
had a fight; kicked them out
local shelter didn’t have shelter for them,
and so started walking to the next big
city with a shelter
No one offered rides,
but they hitched two rides.
It was chilly out, March – April.
One ride took them to where
they needed to go;
the other ride not so kind; dropped
them off only to where he
was going.
They were recovering addicts; and
a couple so perhaps perceived as more dangerous.
Sick while pregnant; boyfriend’s friend,
and girlfriend, help.
Now more immigrants in Lewiston, than
ever before.
Sick with morning sickness with all 4
of her children.
Son with ex-husband in NH (misses him, her son).
Now works with relatives, who kicked them out.
Stressful but likes the work.
However, she feels like she is failing everywhere;
not doing enough at work; not doing enough for
children & relationship; just her personality, she
says. She also added, she is worried that her
kids will be taken away; because this happened
to her when she was young.
Marriage not his, her partner’s, thing. Partner
living with his friend. She is living with her mom, to
save money. Her boyfriend, she says, is not ready
for marriage; despite their having three kids.
Section 8: 4-5 years; because got pushed down
the list; due to new immigrants.
Asked her what was the one thing she wanted besides
a hot shower, daily; and she said that she didn’t think
of herself this way.

Being a Woman During Chore Time, or Almost Woman … Not Your Own Boss or Without a Reasonable from “The Hair on Ripping”

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date:  06.15.15

The poetry of housework has been highly praised. ”

Why does the chore have to so foul?”

Being a Woman During Chore
Time, or Almost
Woman … Not Your Own Boss or Without a Reasonable

going outside for money to
shop, buy lunch, & later pay for gas
. . .
or before
pay for bus fare,
& other needs as a young
woman still in teens
reminds of the treatment that perhaps incited harassment
due to gender segregating preferences.
“Hey, I’m here to work;
to ear that cash; (affording me more freedom – woman).”
“Yes, but you work for
me; if I don’t want that blender washed that thoroughly ;
you can’t wash it thoroughly.”

“These mats are heavy;
the other women working here,
don’t clean them.”
“Yes, but you’re a woman; and
you’re not
friendly ; so
you have to
wash them.”

Later; at a shelter:
“Oh! that’s your chore :
it’s only supposed
to be for men.”
“Oh well (too many
years have
I am now
me: (shunning gender?)”

(Staff helps.)
“That’s good enough.”
In my head, “that’s good
enough is not
P E R F E C T.”

Chore Time
Chore Time

        de Beauvoir, Simone
A new translation of the landmark classic by Constance Borde and
Sheila Malovany-Chevallier / Introduction by Judith Thurman

The Consent Form for The Fictional VolunTier Project

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(I have some sort of independent interviews coming up, and I’m very much under the weather; so this is brief, I’m sure it could be better; but it will suffice I believe for the being Time.)

Consent Form

The Fictional VolunTier Project
The Fictional VolunTier Project

for The Fictional VolunTier Project
, written on 06.13.15;

I consent to being interviewed for this project. My interview will be used without my name for furthering this project’s goals. (An outline and flyer are attached to provide more description of this project; please also refer to the project’s website, for more information: .)

Name of Interviewer                                                                 Date

Name of Interviewed                                                                Date


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Bridge Life
Bridge Life

The life of my man
my man this daze has been
not blat
the splat of the door pull push
all because the jumping worms suffocate
i should do a depiction
my man i should but i don’t know how to due that depict ing
my man
the floors lookin good to me right about now
i wanna just throw down on the floor
for pill’s to kill
know what i mean
don’t ya
the pain of the bullet in
is that excitement we’ve been wait wit tin for
i can’t wait to get to the bridge
then I know i’ll be done here
never comin’ back
i’ll spend the rest of time
tryin’ at forgetting this place i swear it to you.

Excerpt from “The Four Interviews” for The Fictional VolunTier Project

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Food "Four Interviews"
Food “Four Interviews”

aside mine in maine & semi-story of another; as opposed to an interview:
I was trapped in Maine
in a city and not town in Maine (again).
I was told that here in Maine that there
are no suburbs here just towns and cities
I took the greyhound had to get off to visit
a town or city really that was the evil hole
that you can’t imagine but that I mind.
A few towns ago–
I met a man at a food pantry
provider which I already may have described
in these writings, who
told me about his childhood with his
great aunt + great uncle.
He said
that his great uncle used to work him
or rather that he worked for his great
uncle and received a weekly allowance
of $5.00 per week. (He lived there
from age 9 to age 18.) The People here
in Maine tell me (the locals)
that I’ve asked that they only live and
stay in Maine; not because they
like it, but because this is …

An elderly lady at the Diner I’m eating
well; not eating; I can’t afford that;
drinking tea at all night, (which
didn’t turn into that, since they
kicked me out sort of); and caught up
on this writing as quickly as I could,
given the circumstances; I have no idea
why I inserted ‘just kidding’ after the
‘caught up’ in my notes; perhaps I thought
I couldn’t possibly ‘catch up’; how much can
you really record or note; the rest of just
happens; and you have to hope you are just
enough for it to happen the Right Way. Because otherwise
you have to invent a way to go back in Time, and still
exist enough to be able to do that. And when you go
back in time, you will still have gone back in
Time to ‘fix it’; and it will be too late, because
you never did ‘the right way’ in the first place.
So maybe you will ‘fix it’ but me personally,
I aim only for the ‘right’ in the first place;
and if I’m not doing right in the first place;
I suffer immensely until I am; just a personal of
development; call me crazy.

Anyway, I swear I don’t remember this, but
my notes say; though I vaguely remember her.
Though my notes say, she told me that her
family; all women with her at the table were
feeding her too much; (meanwhile I was
close to starving, and without shelter
for the night myself; not to mention;
it was very cold; but somehow I don’t
remember if it was still snowing; perhaps
the snow had melted away or something;
don’t know); and that they had given her
even more candy so that she would gain
even more weight. But who knows at that point
after a weird event of passage and trapped
for the night without shelter; I could
have temporarily become delusional or
“not with it”. As she leaned over to me;
to tell me this; her daughter, one of them,
didn’t like it; and as they were leaving that
same daughter handed me a card with her information
on it; so that I could contact her in case I needed
help. She’s a case manager? Sorry, but people like
her and their over-population is why I left
the counseling, and related occupations of training;
their lack of empathy stings and also stinks.
That is, mind you I did not ask those people
for help; and had I had self-esteem problems,
or been experiencing tremendous fear at that
situation of not having shelter or money for the
night; uhm, I might have had a break down;
but those are not my issues at hand, my
issues at hand seem several at time being;
and one of them still is as notes of mine
here declare pointing to stinging un-empathetic
“helping professionals” and asking that
helping actually mean helping. Even if only
one being in the Universe literally is a
trained and qualified helping professional. Anyway,
I handed her card back, thanked her for it; and
explained to her what I was doing. One of her
sisters shook her head “no” as the “case manager”
had handed me her card.