D.I.Y. or not, there's plenty of outside help available to one living this lifestyle. I take showers and receive mail at a place right off Haight Street called "Youth Outreach", which will also take phone messages and post them on a bulletin board, and from time to time they will walk down Haight Street passing out little street life helpers like toothbrushes, band aides, cookies, socks, etc. They're an "anarchist organization", which means they don't get any funding, so I wonder how they afford rent, paid staffing (two people), and what must be quite a water bill.

In a pinch, I'll take a shower at the Drop-In Center, which claims to be open all day every day. But the place scares me. Just as there's a difference between tourists and travelers, there's a difference between being homeless and apartmentless, and the people who hang around this place are all-the-way homeless. Here's what to expect if you go: you'll know you're getting close because the neighborhood abruptly becomes seedy, with three or four people trying to catch your eye to see if you're "looking for something". You tunnelvision for the door, which for some reason is beat up, and open it quickly. Just inside is a computer-made sign which reads "No Sitting On Floor", and right underneath is someone lying down and wrapped in blankety sweaters. Everywhere are black people in various states of damage, some visibly strung out, others limping, others muttering, others sort of chewing on their faces. Some look at you with sober eyes that know what you're thinking.

There is a desk with a sign "Wait here so the attendant may help you" but no attendant is there. Tethered to the desk are rolls of toilet paper -- take as many sheets as you anticipate needing. The place is huge, whiffing of large amounts of government money inefficiently spent. In the main room, which is big as six classrooms, are long tables and at each spot is a black man with his head resting hard in front of him, dead asleep.

The shower is in a little room to the side of the bathroom. The door disconcertingly doesn't lock or even close all the way. I guess where there are junkies you cannot have locking doors. You get nekkid and suddenly feel 8 or 9 times more vulnerable. There aren't separate hot and cold water controls, just one pushbutton that starts the water at a mono-temperature for about 15 seconds, reststop style. And there is no shower head, just a blunt stream of water spilling from the end of the pipe. But the water is awesomely hot. Your body forgets its environment for a moment in the surprise of the sensation and you press that water button many, many times.

When you're reluctantly done with the shower, you enter the men's bathroom to use the sink for a shave but standing in front of the mirror is a visibly speeding transvestite/transsexual working his(?) hair with curlers and hitting his(?) face hard and fast with a barrage of makeup. You leave the bathroom, leave the place. People outside try to catch your eye.