140 Day Reflections

It is Sunday afternoon. I am watching the progress of the Patriots game on another window. They are within field goal range in overtime, and they should win.
I am thinking that, after I leave here, I will walk the 2 miles to the spot where I hid one of the backpacks which I had brought with me on my journey to Mobile, back on June 1st. The one I carry now is coming apart at the seams. It is a good brand of backpack (Polo) but, I suppose everything comes apart at the seams eventually; order to chaos, the Big Bang Theory, ashes to ashes dust to dust, my ramblings....
I Decide To Go To Church
This morning, I woke up around 9 am. and decided to go to church. I went to the one on Dauphin Street, and I cant remember the name of it, because they downplay things like names, labels, denominations, councils and orders and factions. It is written, (as they say,)  in very small letters on the door. It is the "fellowship" of something or other. Perhaps you may have heard of them.
I like it, because I can just walk in the front door, in the middle of the service, wearing whatever I am wearing, and hardly turn any heads. They have a big pot of coffee, and I can go to the back and get a cup, right in the middle of a sermon without the preacher stopping me to tell me to sit tight because what he is saying is important. A guy (Leroy) plays a few songs on the guitar; a really nice Taylor guitar. He used to be a street musian in New Orleans, and so he can relate to me.
Having woken up right on time for that service, and liking coffee, and being in a daze because of not having had any coffee, I walked like a mindless zombie (was that redundant?) to the place, and went in and sat down.
They preached about Satan, and how, when you talk to people who are demonically posessed, you can talk right to the demon (which is motivating them) and not the person. Jesus did. He even told the devil to come out of the poor slobs. And that was my Sunday morning.
I left there before the service was over, so as to eat at 15 Place, which serves a meal on the third Sunday of each month, which the day was. I had only eaten 4 chicken wings and one hamburger all of Saturday, and then forgot to get food before going back to the sleeping spot, because by then, my hunger had subsided.
I waited in line for 20 minutes for a plate of food, which took me one minute to eat, and was afterwards at a loss as to what to do and where to go.
I got a malt beverage at the Dauphin Store, not knowing how else to combat bordom, and headed in the general direction of where I have stashed clothes. I ran into a couple of people, whom I had seen at the church. They seemed to be giving me the "cold shoulder" and I was thinking that it was because of my leaving early, or my having just bought a malt beverage. Maybe they were just giving my demons the cold shoulder.

Bums were everywhere.
Since recieving my birthday gift money from my mom, and making a little bit on the street, I have been up to my ears in bums of every race, creed and walk of life. They are like those fish that need to keep moving in order to survive, and that can smell blood in the ocean, and can tell by the way that I walk that I have money. They see the money in my guitar case, and I believe that they covet it.
I have begun to lie to them and tell them; "Oh, I don't carry much money with me, I stash most of it in a hiding place, and only bring enough with me for my coffee every morning."
A couple of them actually tried to fish from me, where my money is "stashed." This, under the guise of being concerned about the security of the spot. "Is it in a safe place, guitar man, I mean, you can hide it somewhere, thinking no one will find it, but, you'd be surprised where people will look. It isn't nearby where you sleep, I hope. Is it? -because that's the first place someone is gonna look. I'm just trying to look out for, you, guitar man."
This morning, I was up with the sun and went to get my hard-boiled egg, with grits and blueberries. Somehow, the Presbyterians have come into a seemingly endless reservoir of blueberries, and those berries make appearances at least twice a week, at The Coffee Club, to the disappointment of a lot of the homeless, there to eat a free breakfast.

Blueberries again?!?

140 Days In Mobile
I have been here in Mobile, for 140 days. I have a lot to reflect back upon, as I try to evaluate the past 140 days. I have made progress in certain areas. I still haven't seriously entertained the idea of Mobile being my final resting place, my "Home at last."
The city is like my past 5 girlfriends, all of whom managed find the wrong guy; which would be, in my case, the kind of guy who is always being found by the wrong girl. I haven't really imagined settling down here, and, nothing happens without first being imagined, I imagine.