My living quarters are in a nice apartment that has been designated a HUD housing building in a darn nice area of Portland, Oregon, near the city proper and on an excellent bus connection.

That original intention of HUD was housing for low income seniors (55 and up). Today, it is a dustpan to collect the debris of our citizenry: the mentally disabled, the physically disabled, the people without a home (street people?), the mentally ill. Prioity is not upon the normal 55 years old and over. I believe addicted citizens are also considered, regardless of addiction(s).

Although the requirement to get accepted in this (very lovely building location and it's interior accommodations) are solid references from professional and personal people in one's life (character references) and a thorough follow up by the house manager, including checking out any felony history (not permitted in HUD are previous record of felony or sex abuse).

This is quite an introduction to my observations as a 3+ year resident. The biggest obstacles in addictiveness appears to be prescription drugs. I'd be interested in have a printout of all the frequent emergency room visits from several tenants. The crying wolf repeatedly from several to gain relief from detoxing on a substance, whether it be alcohol, downers, uppers, (acid of one sort or another) -- ///.

Finally, after these few years, it is evident that many tenants are really experienced in the con game. Similar to the shell game (actually they are ALL empty), there are tenants who are wholly experienced in conning and having the goal to twist you around their finger. Although in the con game territory of time gone by, they may have not been good enough, in this building of innocents, etc. they can feel like big, successful, artful, people - and not be reminded of the fact that all their life they were no-good's.

Recently, one tenant, who has befriended me on an again, off again occasion, found, when he acted out great distress in his leg (titanium repaired he said) and mentioned his daily use of more than the 1800 mg. of Ibruproprium(SP?), which did not help his pain, mentioned his wishing for real pain medicine (he stated the one I used recovering from major surgery). Knowing this man is not only a conner, but also an alleged alcoholic by his own admission, even had I had the morphine based medication on hand, I would not have offered it. The outcome was the agony (appearing) of his leg disappeared and he was quick to depart when I mentioned that my pain medicine is "not at all", a baby aspirin a day.

Later I had occasion to see this person who was fully within closure to any other person. I saw,
sadly, a mouth with a curled lip in his expression of staring at nothingness, similar to an attack animal.

Once the cash register, beer, cigarettes, marijuana, uppers and downers are not available, so is this person's wish to whisper in your ear "My secret is you are my friend" OR I have a secret but only to share with you,"I love you". Really, is that what we need?

I am loved, and many of the lonely souls in this building will be glad to have those expressions spoken to them; they might buy in (try to please) at any cost..

This man, may forget that the same approach to interaction was used 2 years ago. I remember.