A courageous, presumably-longtime resident of Portland, Oregon shared an anonymous account of his experiences encompassing all 6 pillars of human tribulation in the area’s room wanted Craigslist, yesterday morning. To keep things sensical, I’ll refer to him in this work as Ricky Dumps.
Little information is readily available regarding Dumps, but he claims to make ⍟“5,000 a month” from his 4 jobs, and we can speculate that he supports Tump, or knows at least a single Tumpist whom he trusts.
“I’m being serious - people won’t rent to you if your a trump supporter.”
If you so desired, you might even conclude that Ricky is a bit “vanilla” when it comes to his sexuality, as he seems to be quite uncomfortable dealing in proximity of “kinky weird crap females,” and “sex in exchange for a living space,” but his entire story is riddled with similar accounts of his immolation at the whims of the city, and it reads like a cheat sheet for human adversity.
The first pillar — Poverty
The unreasonableness of Portland’s cost of living is perhaps Dumps’ strongest argument. He claims that “[the] average rent here is 90% of your income,” and insists that one’s chances of purchasing property are just as remote thanks to an influx of out-of-state buyers intent on “charging way too much” rent.
Ricky’s tenants do not allow him to have company over, but eludes to their expectation of him to “clean their house when they mess it up.”
In matters of the heart, Ricky’s prospects are grim in the face of the heterophobia colluding unbridled in slumptown. “If you are single this is not the place to meet anyone unless your gay. Don’t try and have your own opinion about something otherwise you will be shunned.”
In sharing his struggles with parking spaces, Dumps lapses into the nonsensical tirade of a long-struggling working man, sentences away from snapping. “They don’t do dick in Oregon,” he concludes.
Perhaps Ricky’s last remaining joy of home could have been Portland’s cuisine were its costs not “outrageous.” Despite his exuberant employment, he has been relegated to “Little Caesars or fast food,” predisposing him to feeling more depressed, anxious, and confused.
“This place is not the heaven it once was,” he laments, citing “local women” abusing “crazy drugs,” and a nomadic, RV-bound “family of 4,” though I could not find the referred narrative upon further research. It’s not clear how Ricky would change Portland’s culture, exactly, though his reflection on the consequences of “chillin with a bro house” seems like too-specific a reference to be anything but a past personal experience. I am unfamiliar with “bro house,” as are my sources, but apparently spending one’s time with it “won’t fly… in a gay community.”
Perhaps The City of Roses is truly a lost cause for breeder hope, but there is heart to be taken in the gesture of this Craigslist klaxon, itself. Testimony is testimony; a warning is still a warning, and - like a wolf’s howl-bark, alerting the pack to danger, they are propelled by an innate communal desire to spare suffering. The medium is not important - it was human concern that compelled Ricky Dumps to call out from his financial and ideological prison in a resolute attempt to spare a stranger from the torture he’s endured. For him, “exposing Oregon transits[?] is a righteous cause,” and - as the ashes fall and the wildfires rage on- he is rooted somewhere in the depths of his home city, bravely unwavering in the face of tribulations cultural and natural.
“I will just keep posting.”
⍟Dumps has not yet responded to requests of him to specify which currency he was referring to here, if any.