"What are your goals?"
"I don’t have any."
"Do you feel good about that?"
"I think it’s excellent. I have no address, no bills, no power, no gas, no rent. I don’t have a care in the fucking world. I earn enough to gas up my truck, buy some food, and feed the dog and cats. People be telling me I need a new truck, a better place . . . Fuck that. I don’t need any of it. I’m just kicking back in life. I’m worry free. No cares."
Jeff drives a rusty old Chevy, lives out of an RV trailer near the power plant and city dump. His dog is chained to the trailer. Two cats sit in the window. Jeff found them as strays, took them in. In the evenings he walks to a nearby creek, fishes with cheese. He’s also learning to longboard, teaching his dog how to pull him. We met at the liquor store. Jeff was carrying a sixer of something that looked like berry-flavored beer.