As a homeless guy, it often feels like this is what it must feel like to die.
A homeless lady walks into Starbuck’s about five minutes ago. She’s grimy, and while she’s probably in her mid to late 50s, she looks older with how unkempt she appears in both her clothes and appearance.
But here’s the weird thing.
She struts from the entrance straight to the toilet like she owns the place.
Like she’s some sort of supermodel or something.
Now don’t get me wrong. I know I am not dead.
But with how much the reactions of the people and world around me seems to run like a machine with it’s predictable response to me.
And observing others with my equivalent of a scarlet letter otherwise known as being homeless.
I can’t help but think.
Is this a Christian “God’s” concept of punishment?
Has the “system” around me painted my image in accordance with those – like this lady that I observe to look ghetto – as a lesson for disobedience to the system?
If you work. You’ll look good. Pretty. You’ll be granted a place to stay.
But if you don’t.
You’ll be branded.
And while I myself may look at myself as a sleightly overweight but still ruggedly handsome guy.
Does ‘the system’ around me paint me as a bearded and repulsive old man who looks and smells like he hasn’t showered in months?
I can’t help – by observing the lack of consistency with other homeless people, their appearance and language – that I am seeing life ‘from outside the system’.
A system which answers the question of how do I get a place of my own to live in with
I hear this implied “slave” somewhere in there when I’m told that.
So today. The police come out to Starbuck’s to answer a call about a homeless man who fit the stereotype. He’d passed out, drunk in a chair outside of Starbuck’s.
So the police had a pow wow.
For about 30 minutes, they were trying to find the guy a place.
I went out there.
Was complimented how I didn’t look homeless.
And as the younger police officer – maybe 25 or so handed me a resource to try in downtown Los Angeles – I asked him if he’d ever played the game ‘whack a mole’.
To which the attractive lady officer did. My primary reason for starting the conversation.
To which he said no.
I then explained “You’re going to tell me there’s resources available to me. And then walk away thinking you’ve done your job. And then, later, when you learn I haven’t followed up on your resources, you’re going to think it’s my fault that I’m homeless. But what you don’t want to hear – is how prior to you – I have had no less than 100 people offering me resources and every single one of them ended in a dead end. So why should I work harder – with something you’re offering when I know it will wind up just like the others. Isn’t that the definition of insanity?”
You know, the knowing “You’re just like the other homeless and are where you deserve to be” smirk that if I could freeze time, I would have frozen it in that moment and bitch slapped the guy.
But the truth with this all is.
I sincerely don’t know how the guys ‘sees’ me. Does he see me as a stinky smelly homeless guy because that’s what he’s programmed to see? And is this why so many others may see me or think and act with me accordingly – they are programmed to see me like this?
Because – the trippy part is – Not one of these people stop to ask the question “How can I help?”
Instead. They try to point me somewhere else.
Now this is the same world I’ve seen my entire life. But this is the first time I’ve ever really been able to ‘see’ the way people act without feeling like I was using a fraction of my mind. So normally I’d question my own sanity. But because how ‘right’ my mind feels – how clear it feels – and how without influence I feel.
I can’t help but look at the world around me and these weirdly consistent – persistent and dismissive behavior …
what the fuck….
I haven’t noticed a pattern with it. I cannot say it’s just Christians doing it. But it is noticeable.
I wonder if they’re robots? *smirk*
But here’s the deal.
I KNOW this is happening because it’s me who has to change.
I, singlehandedly, am the most powerful force in existence and have to be the change I want to see.
I intend on being delicate.
But in doing things I sincerely don’t like to do and don’t want to do simply to live and feel good about myself.
I deserve more than what this ‘system’ is giving me.
A system I know is a product of my own mind.
And me and my mind want to relax and take some time off.
Having a little help with the place to stay where I can leave my things behind without fear of it being stolen and without being around drug addicts or alcoholics would be nice.
And yes. I fully admit I’m weak and wouldn’t be able to resist the influence of drugs and alcohol if it were around me regularly. They typically represent getting laid and exploration of the mind which is something that would be nice to have right about now as well.
On an end note.
The analogy to death is this:
I see ‘a system’ at work around me. Where people remain entrenched in a form of slavery to live the relatively modest lives they lead.
I see outliers in real life. But those outliers – like me – are poverty stricken. and stuck.
I see other outliers. On tv. You know the type – the wealthy ones – But never see those outliers out and about. So to some degree, I think they are fiction. No matter, you never see them fraternizing or attempting to help – directly – people like myself – people who are without money and options.
Which all has me wonder.
How does the world ‘see’ me?
And does it even see me?
If I walked around naked, would people even notice?
I’m starting to think not.
Now if I was only proud of my body and had a six pack abs like I’d dreamed of for years. I’d test out that theory.