Here’s a riddle. It’s not a very good one.

What can you spend, and never get back?

November 7th, I’ll be fifty years old. I’m hoping, for Jenifer’s sake, that I live that long – longer, too. I like when Jenifer is happy, and me being alive makes her happy. Oh, Christ, if I was suffering she would be the one to help me do the Kavorkian dance to my death. She isn’t mean. But as long as I’m alive, and relatively happy, Jenifer is pleased. And so am I, because she’s happy.

I’ve been wondering recently why I am nearly fifty years old, and I live on noodles that I buy in bulk from the discount grocery store. Part of it is, of course, that I love cheap noodles. I throw on some cheap ass vinegary hot sauce, and a little soy sauce, throw away the salt package, and “Bingo”. Noodles.

“These are addicting”, Jenifer said. She insisted upon trying what I eat. I mean, if you loved someone, and they only ate one thing, wouldn’t you be at least a little curious? I sure the fuck would. So, I made her some the other day, and those were her words. Addicting.

I was reading an interview with Jim Knipfel, and he was asked about his relationship with Hubert Selby, and Knipfel goes, you know, there is a lot of talk about his anger, and I never saw it.

If you were to meet me you would not see much anger. Not a lot of resentment. I’m not saintly, by any means, but you live long enough on food from Homeless Missions, and some of those places serve kibble dog food – - fuck it all, it’s food – - and a package of noodles looks pretty damn good. It’s actually food. And I bought it.

I’m poor. I’m convinced, that at nearly fifty years old, I will always be poor. There is a line in Catch-22 where the main character, Yossarian, tells us about another character, Orr. Orr, Yossarian says, has a million talents, which will keep him in a low income bracket for the rest of his life.

I’m not bitter that I am poor. But I am poor. I know poverty. And I don’t like the idea that some crap head will point out to me that I live in the richest nation on earth, where poverty is a luxury to other people in other nations. I live here. I am poor. And I live in poverty. And everything I have ever done has led me here. I have something fundamental about my existence which keeps me in poverty, and will always keep me in poverty.

But I am not bitter about it. I have learned how to survive. I am responsible about my poverty.

“Oh. What are a few measly dollars, Father Luke?” Well, I’ll take your throw-a-ways if you don’t mind.

In the meantime, I’m still looking for work. It would be nice to be able to pay rent. The rains are coming. The rains are always coming to Portland, Oregon.

And Okay to all that.

- –
Me,
Father Luke