SOME CRACK HO's, CRAZY HOMELESS, ME & OPRAH...

Well, it is another month before my employer provides me with insurance so I had no choice but to return to the free clinic in that scary ass part of the city. However, as always, I kind of enjoy the experience. I can lament on and on about the odd luck of my life but I will never claim my life is dull. It is interesting. After a day full of faux drama at my wondrous big fat gay job, I left 2 hours early to head to the clinic. If my bosses and co-workers saw where I had to go I am certain that they would break the rules and just give me insurance now.

After letting them inspect my messenger bag to ensure I was packing no heat, knives "to cut uuuuuuuu" or pnp supplies and signing in --- I took my seat. So, there I was. Me, 4 street workers clearly in need of some meth, crack or H, several insane homeless men and an interesting woman who we will call "Ida" Ida was my friend for the 3 hours I was there. We chatted. She tried to cut her hair. Told me it was far too long and matted. However, much to my relief -- one of the guards came and took Ida's shears away. Actually, they were not really shears -- they were little scissors that one sees elementary kids use. Anyway, she was upset about not being able to style her hair while we waited.

"Ida. Shut the fuck up!" an exasperated crack girrrrrl said after Ida continued to complain to me that her hair was in need of "some workin'" --- before an argument broke out and the crazy dude to our left started crying even more --- a lady at the front desk announced that it was time for Oprah.

I swear --- there was a wave of excitement that went thru the room as "Gladys" got up and changed the channel to Oprah. For the next 30 minutes or so we watched Oprah complain and lecture that we were all living beyond our means. Oprah never mentioned that her outfit probably cost as much as the annual budget for the free clinic and I swear it looked as if someone was changing her hair between commercial breaks.

"Poor thaanng. All that money and the bitch still can't dress, do her hair or be thin." ...wisdom from Ida. Hair seemed to be heavy on Ida's mind today.

I was bored. I don't enjoy Oprah. She is starting to impact me in a way that I thought only Enya could. ...or, maybe Yanni. Anyway, as Ida went on and on about Oprah's set, which, Ida felt was too brown. Actually, she had a point or it might have been the poor reception of the TV. I decided to pull out my journal and write all of this magic moment down so I could share it with you because that is what I am all about.

"Hey, Matt-Boy, I like your bag!" ...Ida then stroked it.

"Thanks. It works" I replied.

"Can I have it?" she asked.

"No" I answered.

One of the crazy men started laughing. Ida reached over and slapped his head. I am not sure if the hair cutting or the slap caused it, but Ida got to see the doctor before me. ...we never saw her leave.

The doctor saw me for all of 3 minutes. Asked me how my day was going and refilled my two meds which I can't wait to stop taking but will have to get a doctor to do so. Then I signed out and walked to BART and headed home.

The sun has returned. As has that wonderful SF wind. I love the way it feels. I sat out in Alan's backyard when I got home. I wonder if Oprah would be nice to me and Ida if we went on her show. Ida could get a makeover and Oprah could teach me how to better budget and set me up on a date with Stedman. Well, a boy can dream. ...I do believe this might be an actual ad for the Haight Ashbury Free Clinic circa 1969. I could be wrong. But, it is still fun to look at!!!