The tent cutter

The guy who cut the rope to my tent tarp a week or so ago was a police officer. He didn’t bother leaving any kind of message for me that time. Not only did he cut that rope to the tarp, he also ripped the bottom of the tent door most of the way off. I had it ripped just a little bit so Jacob could go through. He ripped it most of the way across. I have been duct-taping it together until I can do something more permanent.

Then the day before yesterday, I came home from work and found that the tarp rope had been cut AGAIN, and this time, the tent door had been cut most of the way off on the *other* section of the door, the upward side near the zipper. It now cannot be closed. I have been duct taping the door shut. Keeping the door shut is the only way to keep us warm. They left a message saying they were police and that I wasn’t allowed to camp here.

Then they came back the next day, yesterday, when I was in the process of taking down the big tent and moving my stuff. I moved it to another location. The reason people were finding this location was because I had thrown out food and some person’s stupid dog was coming up to eat the food, because they’re too stupid to actually feed their own dog and were starving it, the way almost everyone does. I think more than one person’s dog went up there, but I’m not sure.

I just need to go away from that particular location, which is easy to get to from the path, and go someplace which is harder to reach from the path, more in the middle of all the sticker bushes.

A ‘concerned citizen’ called the police on me, they told me. This ‘concerned’ moron wanted to make sure that I knew about the existence of a homeless shelter, and thought that just because she/he themselves knew nothing about how to camp safely and effectively in the winter, nobody else on earth must know how to do it either.

This time, I won’t let them make me leave. I am not going to leave this winter. I am going all the way through, just like I did on Mt. Nittany. I am able to do it. I DO NOT WANT TO GET AN APARTMENT.

I started catching a horrible cold, and now I am coughing constantly, just like last winter when I got what seemed like pertussis for three whole months. So now it’s possible to hear me coughing all night long or any time I’m in bed in the tent. I don’t know how long this is going to last. Last year, the ‘concerned citizen’ who called the police on me did it because I was coughing.

Listen to this insanity. I typed the two police officers ENFJ and probably ISTJ as soon as I started talking to them. They came back yesterday while I was home. The ISTJ looked like a reptilian, seriously. He stood there in the background kind of sneering or smirking, with a look of loathing and distaste on his face at this whole sordid affair, while saying nothing. The ENFJ was the one who talked to me.

The insanity: He tried to explain to me why he cut the tarp rope (and not to mention the tent itself) – FOR HIS OWN SAFETY. He had to duck to go under the rope, and he didn’t want to get snagged on the rope if he had to suddenly back up or fall over backwards because apparently he was terrified that I was hiding inside the tent and was going to leap directly through the closed tent door like Eval Knieval flying through a flaming hoop, waving my knives at him. He ‘had to’ cut the rope and cut the tent door for that reason, because somebody could have been inside, waiting to attack him, so he had to attack first by sticking a sharp object through the door. Then, of course, no accountability – don’t bother to tie the rope back in place
afterwards. Just leave it – it didn’t have a purpose.

These insane ENFJs are all the police officers who used to ride the HP bus when I was going to work every day while living at the Youngs’ house. They were in training and they were all together and I couldn’t stand ANY OF THEM except maybe one guy who looked a little bit human and actually kind of resembled Jesse. They were absolutely fucking insane, and terrified of every little thing. One day a moth flew into the bus and was flapping around next to one guy’s ear, and he was panicking and waving his arms all around, and then the moth went next to someone else who had the exact same reaction, sheer absolute uncontrollable helpless terror. These people believe that at every turn, something is going to suddenly jump out and kill you, and the tiniest little things are all potentially lethal or they carry diseases. Constant, nonstop phobic terror of all of reality itself – that is the ENFJ police officer.

So he ‘apologized’ for cutting the rope and said something like, ‘I didn’t do it to be a jerk, I did it for my own safety!!!’ and I was supposed to respond like, ‘Oh!! That makes perfect sense! Good thinking! Thanks for protecting yourself from an imaginary terror while destroying the object that’s protecting my and Jacob’s life from the cold!’

I listened to some of his bullshit, but was less tolerant than I was last time I had to listen to a cop’s bullshit when they were telling me to leave my camp. I told him I was already aware of all of the services that existed in town to help me, and that I needed so much help, there are no services on the entire planet that are able to help me, and anyway, EVERYBODY needs help. I spoke to them in a very dark, numb monotone full of anger. ‘Thanks for being cool about it!’ the ENFJ said at one point, as though ‘not being cool’ would have been what I was if I were hiding inside the tent and leaping through the closed door waving my knives around.

Several times I cut them off from telling me about the various helpful services and told them I already knew about this. I said I was 42 years old and I had certainly heard about the existence of homeless shelters many, many times by now. I said I had lived in this town for 20 years, and the reason neither of these cops recognized me was because I never did anything bad. I fought with them about giving them my name, but finally gave it to them. I don’t know why, I just didn’t have any respect for them after they had repeatedly cut my tent.

The worst part was whatever they did to terrify Jacob. I don’t know what they did. He was so terrified that he was crouching outside somewhere instead of sleeping in his shelter in the tent, and he was shivering. He was missing when I came home, and I stood there, staring into space, thinking of what I could do to get him back, before I knew it was the police who had done it and before I had found their little note. I was thinking I would go to the shelter and look for my cat at the shelter. But I thought whoever it was might have just taken him or murdered him.

Then I heard him meowing, and I started whistling for him and yelling, ‘Hey hey! Hey hey. Hey hey hey!’ over and over, whistling for him, and he crawled back to me, crawling like he was stalking, ducking very low to the ground, terrified, and shivering.

I don’t know what they did to him.

So the next day I started taking down my big tent and moving all my stuff up to a higher place, a different place. My excuse is that it’s closer to the parking lot, which is where I am going to transfer everything into a rental car, if anyone asks where I’ve put my stuff and what I’m going to do. It’s all up there waiting to be transferred to a rental car. In reality, I am going to live in it up there again, in a different place. I don’t know how long this will last before they find me again. Probably not long if I am coughing uncontrollably the whole night and all day long like I’ve been doing.

But I want to sleep through the winter in my tent. I loved it when I did it twice before in the tent, and once in the car. I love the winter. Winter camping is the best. It is absolutely silent, like last night when the snow was falling and covering everything, and I looked outside and saw all the thousands of tree branches looking all three-dimensional and white and different. It was so, so beautiful. I am right in the middle of it, but perfectly warm, perfectly comfortable, deep in my many thick blankets. I am so comfortable, and so contented.

In contrast, if I lived in the homeless shelter, I would have a condescending shelter working assigning chores for me to do every day, so that I will be a responsible human being who does chores, like a child. I would not be allowed to sleep in the the daytime, because sleeping in the daytime is VERY, VERY, VERY BAD, even if you have a job and you work all the time and you only get to sleep on your day off. NO SLEEP DURING DAY. VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY BAD. ALL HOMELESS PEOPLE MUST BE KICKED OUT OF SHELTER DURING DAYTIME TO PREVENT THEM FROM SLEEPING IN BEDS ALL DAY LIKE WORTHLESS, USELESS PEOPLE WHO DON’T DESERVE TO EXIST BECAUSE THEY ARE UNPRODUCTIVE. ONLY WORTHLESS PEOPLE SLEEP DURING DAY. SLEEPING IN DAYTIME BAD. BAD, BAD, BAD. NO SLEEP.

I can sleep all day in my tent, on my days off work, if I need to sleep. I get to decide how productive I will be and how much I will sleep. I don’t have a condescending person assigning me chores to do. I don’t have to go to a ‘group meeting’ where we ‘discuss’ things. I know all this because I went to the shelter temporarily once in the past.

And what a wonderful gift I will receive, the gift of having to spend more than half my income on rent every month, whenever I receive these wonderful free gifts of getting a low rent apartment, from the helpful concerned citizens! An apartment will make it all better! Everything will be fixed: my contentment, my freedom, my love of nature, and my control over my environment will all be fixed once and for all!

I’ve got to go home and check and see if they destroyed anything today and if Jacob is okay. Then I need to sleep. I was sick – I’m coughing – I coughed all night long – I need some more rest. Then I need to start moving more stuff away. I’m going to a new location but I’m not leaving. Let them struggle to find me. If you are terrified of a rope getting in your way as Eval Knieval leaps through the flaming tent door waving spinning blades at you, then surely you won’t enjoy following a tiny deer trail or rabbit trail that you have to get down on your knees and crawl through between the sticker bushes. Because that is how you will follow my path. My path is the smallest, hardest, windiest path, full of the most stickers and twigs. It’s hard for me, but it will be even harder for you.

2 Responses to “The tent cutter”

  1. Anonymous Says:

    My prayers for Jacob…

    …please take care of yourself, for your own sake…


  2. Nicole Says:

    We’re doing okay, thank you for thinking of me. Your concern is much more sincere than theirs was. I also fixed the ripped part so the door closes again.

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