This rice is my dinner. Just this pot of rice. The refrigerator is empty now. This is the last of my rice.

I have no more emotions any more. I have been angry for so long. I cannot even afford to feel any more. Too much energy.

I suppose when they laid me off I should have been more upset. I didn�t really care because I hated that place so much. I just thought, I�ll get another job. I always do. I applied for unemployment first as almost a joke, something I�d been paying into for so many years. It was an investment. I thought, This may be the only opportunity I have to use up some of my unemployment money. So I applied.

The checks stop coming next week.

When they laid me off, I knew it was because I�m queer. The day my boss gave me the official letter (it�s not a pink slip any more), I heard him talking in the bathroom to his boss.

"You gonna fire that faggot today?"

"Yes, sir. Funny how lay-offs hit certain people and not others."

"Isn�t that funny?" They both laughed. They should have checked to see if anyone was in that last stall.

My lawyer (when I could still afford one) said that I didn�t have a case. One, I didn�t have any proof. Two, even if I did have proof, it wasn�t illegal to fire someone because he or she is gay.

"I thought there were laws against discrimination." I said.

"There are," he said, "just not against gays and lesbians. It�s still perfectly legal to fire someone because they�re queer, or even refuse them housing. If you don�t believe me, just ask the military. Don�t ask, don�t tell, baby. It�s not just the Army."

Anger. Inside me, around me. Everywhere.

I still have salt and pepper to put on this rice, but no butter. It tastes dry going down. The tap water barely helps. I don�t know which tastes worse. Being poor sucks. Being bankrupt is inconceivable.

I will not beg. I refuse to beg. I don�t care what you call it�pride, arrogance, whatever. I will not beg. Maybe because I never used to give those people any money, not even the quarter change I had in my pocket. I used to think they were less than human. I don�t want to become someone like that. I must maintain my humanity. It is all I have left any more.

It�s not that I didn�t try to find work. I went through a pair of shoes walking from interview to interview. But there was no work for a secretary who had been fired. Everyone is getting rid of their secretaries and getting personal computers. And everyone wants someone bilingual. I don�t speak Spanish. They never made us take a foreign language in high school. I wish they had.

After they repossessed my car, I had to take the bus. Try riding a bus in a business suit and see how many people talk to you. I passed by West Hollywood sometimes. I saw all those men going to their expensive gyms or getting in their BMWs and I didn�t see myself anywhere. Where are the poor gay men? Where are the people struggling to make a living? I don�t fit the image.

Gay men all are college educated, all earn over $70,000 a year, all have a mint of disposable wealth. Not this kid. $224 each Wednesday, thank you Uncle Sam. Unemployment paid some of my bills. But they did end up taking the car.

The week after I was laid off, I was lazy; I�ll be the first to admit it. I hadn�t had a vacation in 8 months. I sat at home and watched all the bad soap operas and talk shows I could take. Sally had on post-operative transsexuals. Oprah had on dancers from gay clubs. Montel had on gay couples in long-term relationships. I kept waiting to see myself�somewhere, anywhere. No talk shows showed low income queers. I didn�t exist.

The next Monday, I began my search for work. I took part of my severance pay to make 100 copies of my resume. I knew that would be enough. I looked forward to the coming weeks. This is an opportunity to better myself, I thought. I can move away from that shitty little company and start doing something positive, maybe even something in the gay community.

My first check came that Wednesday, tax free. I thought it was so quaint, a small unemployment phase I was going through. Look, honey! I got an unemployment check once! Ha ha!

Once the forth check came, I was getting down to the bottom of my meager savings. The $224 a week was barely covering my rent. My car payment, Visa bills, and food burned up my savings.

Every day I had looked for a job. I was on my second batch of 100 resumes. I had six interviews; all of them chose the bilingual speaker over me.

I even went to some of those adult education Spanish classes. I was there one semester and I could say, "How are you? I am fine." I realized that being bilingual took years, not semesters. I gave up on the second language idea.

Check #12 arrived. I gave up. I didn�t go out job hunting any more. I don�t usually quit things easily, but this was too much, too demoralizing. I was suicidal for the first time since I came out to my parents. (They would never help me. The one thing they ever kept their word on was never speaking to me again.) All of month three, I couldn�t get the energy to go find work. That�s how they found my car: sitting in front of my house. I didn�t even realized they had taken it away until 4 days later.

The move gave me the energy to start looking again. My apartment manager finally called the sheriff and evicted me. I would have done the same thing if I hadn�t been paid in two months. I found a clean place half the size of my old apartment and moved. There were gangs in my new neighborhood. I had to get rid of my cat.

The move was a fresh start. I knew I could find a job. I knew I had valuable skills. I would not be defeated. I had told my God-fearing parents that their only son was gay. I could handle unemployment, no problem.

100 resumes, 8 interviews, 0 job offers.

My life became much more regular. Sunday was the start of my week now: get the classifieds, circle the jobs, write the cover letters. Monday through Wednesday were delivery days. (I still believe in always hand-delivering a resume). Wednesday I got the $224 and decided how to spend them. I usually didn�t have a choice. Wednesday through Friday I made phone calls, trying to get a manager, a supervisor, an employer. Nobody wanted to talk to me. Saturday�day off. Day to cry.

This rice is my only dinner. Tomorrow�Wednesday�my last unemployment check comes. The government no longer extends the long hand of charity after 12 months on unemployment.

I have no more resumes and no more money to make copies. I applied to McDonald�s today. A 26 year old high school drop out working at McDonald�s. My parents would say they told me so.

I rode the bus through West Hollywood today on my way back from the unemployment office. It was Gay Pride day. I cried, couldn�t stop. I didn�t see myself anywhere.