The Couch Surfing Community

So yeah there is this website known to the world as couchsurfing.com, in basic, in that it is global and everyone calls it that (ir?)regardless of what their native language is, as English is basically king considering England once had one that we were all like whatever to then busted out on our own and dominated; so it goes. Couchsurfing is a profile-based interactive community that enables one to solicit or provide for a roof over the dome of a traveller through online networking means. It is not driven by the forces of capitalism but rather those of karma, in that to give is to receive, pay it forward, and so on. I've utilized the site to provide for shelter for the last three sets of seven days here in Portland, as initially I had time to chillax and grow acclimated with the atmosphere, then having begun an apartment hunt in earnest eight days ago, have yet to find an ample abode. The housing market in Portland is inundated with renters; those with a pad hold what are essentially casting calls, interviewing exponentially people compared to the number of rooms they have, stacking humans atop one another as shipping containers spaced out evenly at fifteen minute intervals. This difficulty however is entirely acceptable, as it has forced me out of the renter's bubble for a moment and pushed me into a world of individuals as disparate as the elements man, travellers and drifters and philanthropic locals with surfaces to spare and a wish to care. My first contact to the site came through Mairead, a barista at the Bean Counter in my home town of Worcester MA as I was trying to sub-let her my apartment within which my sword and inventory rest still; check out my review for it on http://mjwesterman.yelp.com/ ; who upon checking out my apartment alongside her friend Eli I believe mentioned they'd heard of the site and known of individuals who'd sillied it up. I told my boy Rye-Guy. He said his ex girl from high school was a member in Portland just as I had given up my attempt to move to Puerto Rico and opened the triangle chart of movement locations: LA, San Francisco, or Portland. The final option came together and in short order I was upon the couch of Tamara and Alice in SE Portland. My forest green 5-speed 1990 BMW 535i was placed upon consignment with a dealer who is at this very moment defrauding me of my money after having sold it; used car dealers - yeah... Two weeks in passing there I shift to the couch of a guy named Guy with a wife named Jen a dog named Grrr and three chickens known as Original, Crispy and Extra Crispy. Five nights pass of kind hosting, a futon in a private study my place of rest. I met a young gentleman by the name of Serafim yesterday through a random call after a CS msg, picking me up on Alberta Street after having had tacos and checkout out a pad at a housing collective known as the Whale, who instructed me to call him "Chinky" although I refuse and through him a connection may be made as he is a nexus of personability. Tonight is unknown, a sort of out in the great wide open situation, under them skies of blue. Rock and Roll