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The Houseless Chronicles: Part 4, A Quenchable Thirst For Freedom

Jackson DePew — Tue, 11 Mar 2014 17:54:00 +0000

Going to bed doesn’t usually feel like the greatest feat of the day – it’s often the moment when you can finally indulge in relaxation. However, during “The Houseless Chronicles”, at times, bedtime could reveal itself as just the opposite. Whether it’s playing long games of life size Tetris with the majority of your belongings or not, the adventure to visit Mr. Sandman can actually take days. Or at least it seemed like. I remember a couple of nights being ready to melt into my tiny mattress around 8pm or 10pm – or whatever – and having to search for hours finding a suitable parking spot. You ask yourself; will any security guard want to find me here? Does that spot have too many bright lights around it? Do we have to pay to be here? Where is the free land? Why can’t I park here? Are we in America?

Where can I truly be free?

When I set out on this adventure, I had a vague idea about the questions I wanted answers for. I’d been keeping track of them for years and thirsting for their transformation into potential epiphanies.

My family, however, knew precisely what questions needed answering – they were really more like pseudo skeptical inquiries though. Of course it was warranted, they were concerned that the newest college graduate in the family was living out of his truck. They would ask things like, “so where are you going to wash your hands?” or “where will you go to the bathroom?” I replied, “In the sink or river, and in a hole or a toilet?” But those questions weren’t exactly the ones I had in mind. Regardless, that’s the whole point! Not knowing what will arise – appreciating the value of those simple novel unanswered questions, and discovering a depth to them that was once unimaginable.

You may not have known that you were looking for it, but eventually you find that unadulterated freedom you’ve been yearning for, wherever it may have been hiding. You know it when you wake during the night to the sound of coyotes, instead of garbage trucks. Or when you turn 360 in the box, open the tailgate and look up to happen upon the sights of an unexpected meteor shower.

However long it took to find your spot, to find a place, even though you wasted a hot bath or two, it was all worth it. Because it doesn’t matter how homeless you actually think you are, or how much unorganized crap you have on your bed – when the car turns off, and the E-brake is up, your home is where you are.

“This spot looks good.”

“Look down there!”

“Oh, that spot looks good too.”

-Jackson

CONTINUED FROM: The Houseless Chronicles – Part 3

The Houseless Chronicles: Part 3

Jackson DePew — Sat, 08 Mar 2014 00:39:13 +0000

The habitual and forcefully obvious, if we don’t find something in common within the next few seconds this will be awkward, question: “so where are you from?” or “and you live here now?”

The 4ftx6ft box has become my native lair, a lair for sleeping and occasionally eating upon. By night a dark and mysterious disarray of miscellaneous treasures and tri-cams — by day, a mattress, costume box, bag of definitely not clean clothes, a backpack stuffed with climbing gear, a guitar, 1 lantern, 5ft x 1½ft of food and coffee, 5ft x 1½ft of ropes and tiny treasures, and one gigantic handle of what may or may not be amazing whiskey. It very well could be chamomile tea, but there is for sure only one way to find out. Labels can be deceiving.

Now, that list of belongings is not ordered in any way correlated to how the 4’x6’ box is, lets say, arranged. I have adopted a well practiced form of organization. Its called, “the things I use most are easily accessible, and the things I don’t use as frequently are theoretically impossible to get to.”

Don’t judge. Look, we live in a world where I’m not trying to waste time making my shit look good. What ever works and is most efficient… eh? I’m just fighting for that hot bath at the end of each month – that I can afford to take, with all the time I’ve saved up being more efficient than the rest of the world. I save that time in the hot bath bank, if you were wondering. They have an excellent roll over minute plan and cancellation policy.

Its not really a sexy site to see me trying to golden retrieve a needed item from the abyss of my box. You got to, kind of, vampire your way into the lair. If you can hover, use that to your advantage. Know what I mean? If you can’t, then you get your head in the box first, then it is a push up on tail gate/plank/jump motion in the forward direction. However, my big ass gets in the way most of the time, it likes to hit the top of the camper top. It’s kind of hard to explain, so here’s a picture of me trying to clear off my mattress at the end of the day. Also, I’m trying a new “get in the bed” tactic, its working well as you can see. My traveling companion Riley seemed to think it was funny enough to take a picture of. I think that also says something about the time it took me to retrieve – Riley had time to rummage through my crap, find my phone, figure out how to use it, and take a picture.

Yeah, I have a living room, and a back porch, and a basement, and a bedroom. It’s just like Zoolander though, I might as well be living in a house for ants.

-Jackson