Tag Archives: homeless

LIVE

bumredux

redux

homeless vet
source

Pop emailed me the top photo yesterday in response to a previous non-blog entry where I commented on the freaky similarity between a homeless guy I saw on the street and him.. He seems to be having a lot of fun with his G5 and copy of PhotoShop I installed on his machine. Damn he’s getting pretty good!

My father is so fucking naturally odd and funny I’m stupid with envy.

I am, (genetically speaking at least), only half as weird as he is – and will only ever be.

Any weirdness potential I’ve got is diluted by the deft self-packaging, attention junkie, communicator-pro aspects of my mother.

I’m not bitching – I think it’s an alright mix. Just giving a quick head-nod to both sources.

So, thanks to mom – I embrace blogging with passion.

Thanks to dad – I deny doing it.

LIVE

stoplight charity

grand and 44

Totally nomadic day.

I’m starting to wish St. Louis was as progressive as other cities that have wireless internet all over the place. I’ve heard however that the city is putting in wireless in an 8 square block area downtown. (In the trendy loft district where our next studio was “going” to be).

In the meantime I suppose I just need to plot my loiter map based on Starbucko’s and Panera.

While heading to one of my sign manufacturing vendors I got caught at the notoriously slow light at Grand and 44 and the next wave of sleet and freezing rain. A homeless man was pacing the concrete island between north and southbound traffic.

He appeared roughly the same age as, and at a quick glance resembled, my dad. Creepy.

His sign struck me. “will work” and “food” were bold – and contrary to the cliche – he was asking for “clothing” and “shelter”. Somehow in just those few seconds of summing him up I got the feeling this man was genuinely in need.

What turn of bad luck had put this man on the street? Will he freeze tonight? Where did he get a sharpie to make his sign?

A side tangent in my mind thought: “The storm is going to get worse, you could let him sleep on the air mattress and strip the paint off the closets in the master bed for the next couple of days..” – Of course, my good natured knee-jerk reaction was checked by the knowledge that my partners would not approve of my Mother Teresa intentions, let alone allowing a transient into our home.

As he passed my car I rolled down my window and asked… “You smoke?”

He replied with a big toothless smile.

I handed him my half full pack of cigarettes and a lighter and said “Let me take your picture”.

The light turned green and I went about my day – to return to my HOME (which I’ve been reminded to be very thankful for)…

My good karma deed for the day done.

It was charity – not blog content gathering.

LIVE, THINK

checkmate

check in three moves

There’s a Taco Bell right by our house that we’ll swing into occasionally so I can satisfy my constant craving for a Cheeseretos.

They haven’t been on the menu since the late 1980’s, you can usually talk them into making one for you. I’ve been ordering them so long I’ve memorized the keystrokes the employee has to make to ring it up:
One Chilito
– Minus Meat
– Plus Pizza Sauce
– Plus Green Onion
– Plus Extra Cheese

My Cheesereto pusher at this taco bell is a young Bosnian girl named Basha. (St. Louis is a hotbed for displaced Bosnians, which helps diversify our city’s population and makes getting stuffed cabbage rolls a hell of a lot easier). She’s still new enough to the country that she’s got that genuine sparkle of optimism in her eyes. She’s happy, no… THRILLED, to be working – even if it’s only for minimum wage punching buttons and slinging tacos.

The tray full of cheesy goodness is slid to us with best wishes delivered in broken english and we find a seat.
In the corner of restaurant is an elderly man napping. His table is set with a fabric chess board, (game in-progress), a zip lock bag of candy and a flat pepsi.

His ill fitting clothes, stuffed-full tattered bags and rusty bicycle suggested he was a transient. But why way out here? Is he lost? Did he escape from a home and remembering the timeless lyrics from his youth, he’s set out to get his kicks on Route 66? Is he someone’s eccentric grandfather who lives in a converted basement apartment just around the corner?

Is he lonely?

homeless in taco bell

The man awoke mid dinner, got up, freshened up his Pepsi and walked over to us. He saw my camera sitting on the table and asked if I could make him a drivers license. He smelled of licorice and car exhaust.

I told him we didn’t have the right kind of camera for that, but asked if I could take his photo. He said yes. I tried to reimburse him with a taco, but he wasn’t interested. He just continued on about getting an I.D.

We finished up our meal and left.

If I didn’t have Kevin and Chad in tow, I’d be tempted to play a game of chess with him.

Perhaps I should maintain a blog – these sorts of experiences are worth documenting.