I became homeless 7 years ago, I was living in Iowa and I got knocked in the head and just said fuck it, I’m leaving. I wasn’t homeless then, I was living with a friend. The house got broken into, some meth heads came in trying to take our propane tank. They were trying to use it to make meth, we were using it to heat our house. They beat my friend to death, but I survived. When I got out of the hospital, I lived with a friend for a month and then hitch hiked out here. I still gotta deal with the head injury.
I usually make up to $20 a day doing this (waving a sign). I usually quit when I get 20 cuz it takes so long. But I make it. I usually sleep in this area, behind buildings. You know.
What is home:
Home would be if I was with my family. They’re all gone now. They’re all dead. The only ones that are living — one’s rich and one’s locked up. Neither want anything to do with me. I’m 57 now, my dad died when he was 57 from a stroke. I’ve already had two. I’m just trying to take it day by day. Maybe later I’ll go get a beer and hide out by the creek. Don’t worry, I throw away my cans.