Living the vida loca

So spending three weeks with my family in China took me back some, but there is too much to tell and I don't need to spend much time reliving that stuff. If or when my family reads it, I will just be hurting them. So let's move on to something else about my life that disturbs my family. Living in a bus. After a months vacation I am back living in my vehicle rather than out of my backpack. Groggily waking up as the street where I have parked comes to life. I sit up in bed and swear some guy crossing the street is scowling in that how could this be, this eyesore, right here, sort of way. People have a very visceral reaction to the bus. Children get excited and squeal. Some people wave or give me the thumbs up. And then people give that disgusted eyesore scowl. Let me describe the beast. She is a short bus. Mostly yellow, except for the side I painted white. It is like a massive beetle in the world of motorized vehicles, high of the ground, but a slow mover. Sitting on some street. By a warehouse. Train tracks not far away. I know it can be seen as trouble. But it drives, and I don't spend more than a couple days. And no residential neighborhoods. Anyone can call the cops on you at any time. They will either ask you to move along, or start writing you tickets. It is actually a testament to this city that I have not had many more run ins with the cops, and that they have not been all negative. But the ones that are make you nervous. They put you on guard and every thing that you have, your home, feels vulnerable and in question. Which of course it is. So you pull in the periscope, release the moorings, and sail off to a new curbside. Some place that seemed safe last time. Or at least less in danger than where you are. 'Cause no place is actually safe. Legally I need to parked on private property. That sounds pretty good to my anxious heart. But a neighbor can easily call the landlord, a roommate can no longer be jazzed. Gotta be ready to move faster then the haters. gotta predict their next move. Don't get comfortable. Don't get complacent.
     And I shouldn't. It is good for an artist. The big bus I endearingly refer to as Bertha is my art now. More than the landscapes i paint, she is the story of my life right now. And there is no way I would rather be living. Oh wait, I wanna make money, have a place to park, and a real roof over my head.