Paul in Doorway on Church Street

Doorway

Told him I called his sister and received a loving caring call back. He mustered up a positive face. Said he slept in the doorway, if you could call it sleep. I guess. Hard floor. Immobilized. Alcohol probably inhibits movement so he stays on the area he warmed. May also lower his temperature. Cold last night, not winter VT cold, but cold-30s. “I had a heated grate for a while. It blew up warm air and then cold air.”

Continue reading “Paul in Doorway on Church Street”

Paul on Cherry Street II

Pants Jeans Sweater

Yesterday I went looking for Paul to bring him jeans and sweater/jacket that Sharon bought for him at the Shuk. Paul said someone had promised to get him jeans, but he couldn’t trust anyone. He didn’t know his size, “maybe 30/30.” Larry, a street guy, said that he had seen Paul earlier in the day drinking with Ty, the guy with the eye tatooed in the center of his forehead. I walked around the area behind the buildings at the North End of Church and didn’t find him. No more time to kill, I went to do my JUMP duty.

DT or Worse

Today, I found him after an early morning walk down by the Lake. I gave him the clothes. We talked. Then I walked him to City Hall to change. He shook and staggered the whole way there. “Can I get you anything, like coffee or food?””I could use a beer. I got DTs bad.” I shrugged. Not on my menu. He had talked with the supervisor of wet drop in center who told him to come back after dark. “I don’t need you after dark. I need you now.” Someone let him sleep in their van last night. It had some blankets. “Its the first night I have been warm in a month.”

Belated Birthday CardHe showed me a card given to him by the social worker which his sister sent for his birthday. It arrived in his possession late, he said. “I have some decisions to make. I have to be out of here next week. I just don’t know what to do. I have to make arrangements for my stuff in Middlebury.” I urged him not to make bigger  problems and promised to take care of the pictures and equipment he parked at someone’s home. “I trust you,” he said.

Rummaging

He rummaged through his bag, looking for something. Then he pulled out a piece of paper with his sister’s number on it. “Will you call her.” I didn’t ask what he wanted me to say.

Jeans

He was back at his spot after noon. He looked better. He had changed into the pants. “They fit perfectly. How did you know my size? I only wear jeans. I wouldn’t wear anything else. And the LL Bean Sweater and jacket look great also. I feel a lot better.” He was going to make something out of some wire he found, but someone had taken his combination tool.

Better

Maine Media MFA-A Bust

Arno's Last Shot

Not going back to Maine Media MFA and might not attend anymore workshops there. One student canidate offended me by saying the program wasn’t for me. I protested, the program, at least the program described in the materials, was for me; the one which I audited, which the person attended, without, of course, presenting any work, wasn’t. Bummer.

The last night, the members of the program went out to celebrate at a bar. Seemed like more of a ritual than a festivity. Word got back that three members of the faculty had quit. Not a good thing to happen while you await accreditation. Who remains on the teaching staff, I don’t know, but the three who left seemed to be among the most accomplished.

Jan Promoted Workshops

I waited around too long. Should have left after the academic discussion during which it became apparent few had read the assignment and, if anyone did, they weren’t, except for one or two, among the people who spoke. I am not sure the faculty member who led the discussion understood the writing; he was more interested in talking about himself and the poetry part or the reading, which we never got to because he didn’t facilitate much. Only reason I stayed was to touch the faculty. Not worth the effort.

So, Arno quit. I met with him. Asked what he would bring to me if I attended, he said, “I would give you honesty.” He didn’t tell me he would be leaving. I met with Elizabeth. She told me she didn’t see the things I saw in my pictures. She cut off the interview in mid image, a serious dis, to talk to someone else. She didn’t want to download a study I had done into her Lightroom. She was completely dismissive and negative. I posited a few ideas for academic study which I didn’t have properly translated into MFA speak. Those are undergraduate subjects, not MFA topics.” This is after a discussion during a defense of a master’s dissertation the day before where the faculty got into a discussion about whether the requirements for the paper should be relaxed, eased enough to allow for the substitution of poetry for paragraphs. And it was after people presented papers and then discussed them, asking for questions without providing copies for the group to read ahead of time, as if anyone would have read them. Elizabeth said it was because the papers were not received in time to copy.

Jan seemed interested, for a second or two. He asked me to bring some graphic design work, then never asked for it. Jan liked my work, at least some of it. He suggested that I didn’t fit into an MFA program mentality. How did he know? Never looked at my resume or asked any probing questions.

Shumlin and Welch and Leahy Leave The Scene

The election ended electioneering, for now, at least. Thanks be to God. How sad to live in a state where we need to select a governor every two years. I cannot wait. And the presidency, too. Oh, boy. I cannot wait. More nasty ads. More polls. More nailbiting. Oh, boy.

Continue reading “Shumlin and Welch and Leahy Leave The Scene”