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Nov. 30th, 2002 03:06 amin this season of thankfulness, do not be too thankful that you're well off. and don't wish too much "good" fortune upon drifters and hobos, either. let me tell you why:
drifters and bums and hobos are the only truly Free people in our, or any, society. they abide only by their own code. they sleep, piss, eat, fuck, live, and shit when and where they want to. they pay no taxes! theirs is truly a communist state. not because of any government, either, because most of the time the government doesn't give them squat. or rather, the government only ever gives them shit. shakedowns, takedowns, crackdowns, breakdowns, and beatdowns... and once in a while a little R & R at the Ironbar Hotel.
i tell you, man, they live FREELY. sure, they go hungry more often than not, and they never have adequate shelter. but what they do have is more important than all of that. ask any one of them why they are homeless, and seven out of ten will tell you they just wanted to be free. the other three or four have hard luck stories to get over... in fact, they all have hard luck stories, but most actually left behind practically normal, even fairly swanky lives. don't tell them to get a job, because they don't WANT one. and that's not such a bad thing... how much do you like where you work, anyway? i mean, really like it?
they're not lazy, either. those champs really gotta hustle to get some action. any kind of action, too, not just for kicks. food action, sleep action, whatever they wanna do they got to do it right or they'll get rustled up by the locals. but they're still Free-er than you or i.
if i were a better man than i am now, i'd go and live amongst these my brothers and sisters and strive toward Nirvana in the same way that they do. maybe someday i'll have saved up enough real courage and do just that. i've always wanted to just drift away and let the wind guide me to my destination anyway.
so if you see me on the streets some day, don't kick me and tell me to get a job. jobs come with nooses, and i don't want that. just hold out your hand and take mine, maybe even give me a hug if you can stand my smell, and say, "hey, jer. how are ya? I've been thinkin' about ya, old pal. I'll tell all the gang that you said hello and that you're doing all right out here. and maybe you can stop by sometime and I'll share some grub with ya and we can swap stories about where we've both been and what we've both seen... listen, have a quarter, I gotta run. well, take it easy, old buddy, and hang in there!"
who knows, maybe when you're out there, i'll show you where to go for good scraps or where the best semi-natural outdoor shelter is, or which corners are better to hang around during which hours; which alleys are better for fucking and which ones are more suited for shitting. i might show you how to get to the cheapest liquor store for some kicks, or where to hang out at without being bothered by the cops, or i might tell you where to find some good warm blankets for those long winter nights.
if i ever set myself Free, that is.
here's to Curtis, and to Weirdbeard... two of the nicest cats i've ever known. i don't know how Curtis is doing anymore, but i sure hope he's doing okay. as for Weirdbeard... may he rest in peace.
drifters and bums and hobos are the only truly Free people in our, or any, society. they abide only by their own code. they sleep, piss, eat, fuck, live, and shit when and where they want to. they pay no taxes! theirs is truly a communist state. not because of any government, either, because most of the time the government doesn't give them squat. or rather, the government only ever gives them shit. shakedowns, takedowns, crackdowns, breakdowns, and beatdowns... and once in a while a little R & R at the Ironbar Hotel.
i tell you, man, they live FREELY. sure, they go hungry more often than not, and they never have adequate shelter. but what they do have is more important than all of that. ask any one of them why they are homeless, and seven out of ten will tell you they just wanted to be free. the other three or four have hard luck stories to get over... in fact, they all have hard luck stories, but most actually left behind practically normal, even fairly swanky lives. don't tell them to get a job, because they don't WANT one. and that's not such a bad thing... how much do you like where you work, anyway? i mean, really like it?
they're not lazy, either. those champs really gotta hustle to get some action. any kind of action, too, not just for kicks. food action, sleep action, whatever they wanna do they got to do it right or they'll get rustled up by the locals. but they're still Free-er than you or i.
if i were a better man than i am now, i'd go and live amongst these my brothers and sisters and strive toward Nirvana in the same way that they do. maybe someday i'll have saved up enough real courage and do just that. i've always wanted to just drift away and let the wind guide me to my destination anyway.
so if you see me on the streets some day, don't kick me and tell me to get a job. jobs come with nooses, and i don't want that. just hold out your hand and take mine, maybe even give me a hug if you can stand my smell, and say, "hey, jer. how are ya? I've been thinkin' about ya, old pal. I'll tell all the gang that you said hello and that you're doing all right out here. and maybe you can stop by sometime and I'll share some grub with ya and we can swap stories about where we've both been and what we've both seen... listen, have a quarter, I gotta run. well, take it easy, old buddy, and hang in there!"
who knows, maybe when you're out there, i'll show you where to go for good scraps or where the best semi-natural outdoor shelter is, or which corners are better to hang around during which hours; which alleys are better for fucking and which ones are more suited for shitting. i might show you how to get to the cheapest liquor store for some kicks, or where to hang out at without being bothered by the cops, or i might tell you where to find some good warm blankets for those long winter nights.
if i ever set myself Free, that is.
here's to Curtis, and to Weirdbeard... two of the nicest cats i've ever known. i don't know how Curtis is doing anymore, but i sure hope he's doing okay. as for Weirdbeard... may he rest in peace.
