I was running late to meet my brother. He isn’t my real brother but we have become so close over the years that he is considered family. On my way ducking and dodging people like OJ did  on the field and like he is doing now in prison, unfortunately when he gets sacked now the pain is psychological too, I managed to step over a homeless man.

The Homeless Man

I think that image of me stepping over a homeless man sprawled out on the street on the way to watch a movie that discusses/alludes to class warfare  is ironic and a subtle indication of something. That image stood out in my mind and if I could paint or draw I’d draw that scene. The fact that it was right outside Madison Square Garden would add an interesting backdrop to the  painting.

In the past I had had many homeless acquaintances. Homeless people I would meet on the route I would take to get home, or to work or to the places I frequent. Some homeless people are certifiable crazy  and need to be on medication. Other homeless people are drug addicts and drunkards. There are some homeless people though and they are the ones with whom I  find myself talking the most are those who don’t look homeless at all, but chose to live out of society. They have chosen to live off the grid. One of them lost his home and was an addict but got cleaned up but has nothing. No money no place and his family long ago cut all ties with him  and they have moved on.

He used to sit on the corner of Madison ave and 27th I used to take the BxM11 express bus from Manhattan to the Bx on Thursday nights. and I saw him for a whole Winter. I’d bring him a coup of times some McDonalds , turns out he used to sit there and sleep some  wrapped warmly in blankets. He had two other homeless friends that would join him. I sat with him once and brought him a number 7 at McDonalds which was an Angus burger with mushrooms and cheese. He offer me some Top Tobacco with rolling paper, I refused. We never had to  use words to communicate just nods. It was really interesting times.

The Reality of Our Times

The mid -life crisis or reading about it when I was younger was an eye opener for me. I saw that you could be living the American dream with a sort of decent looking wife that after retirement age would turn into a fat amophously shaped blob, half ugly kids, a house, a car, and a dog who does really like you. You could have financial success but be so utterly miserable and empty inside.  I got a scholarship to a prep school, and the kids of all these rich people were not happy at all. Of course not all of the kids there were rich.

We hear about class warfare, racism, ageism, sexism etc but all those things are secondary causes I feel of a power struggle. Its easy to exploit differences between us to exert power over groups of people. But beyond that there is something wrong with things now. Fundamentally wrong. Check this out and I will pick this up later.

I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead; men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with newspaper brains, television souls and high school ideas. – Charles Bukowski

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