Before I log off to try to really work the way I used to work before I equalized religious pluralism with Nazi Germany, I want you to keep something in mind: I left my student apartment in Chester when I was approximately 21, to go to a dorm in Temple University, to bounce to the home of my now dying aunt. In that home I had to dump my own stool in plastic bags, which is in part why I leapt at Diamond Park, without realizing what I was getting into with urban violence and section 811 housing, which differs from section 202 housing only by virtue of age as a classification. You have to be 62 to live in section 202. I was 34. The rental agents, then, in 1994, used me, without in any way contributing to the Pew Grant which funded my position, to case manage the other tenants here, then castigating me when I got home. It was a conflict of interest Richard Baron rightly objected to-- but my point is public housing is a merciless system, with the people in charge equivalent to prison security guards. If I have no further prospect of anything better than to decline in an equally brutal medical regime like Inglis House, I claim the right to pull the plug.
I wanted something more, some place less sterile, and it is virtually too late at my age, but I sent Medium my resume. Just to do it, dinosaur or no.
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