Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Hobo Handbook: Memoirs of a Homeless Poet in New York (Excerpt #19)

By Daniel Canada c.2010

As you can see by the above title, the correct spellings are as such. However, I like to rearrange the spelling of words, thus my spelling of “Skeksy,” or “Skeksies” for the plural. There's also the word “Skek,” which is the abbreviated form of “Skeksy.”

So much for that.

In reality, the word “Skeksis” comes from a Walt Disney Movie, entitled “The Dark Crystal.” In this great puppeteer work by the late Jim Henson, there was a bunch of evil buzzards, who ruled the land with a despotic iron hand-or should I say claw. Anyway, these buzzards called “Skeksis” were the epitome of uncouth and gross behavior. When they ate at the dinner table, they squabbled over pieces of meat. Food would daggle from their mouths as they partook of their victuals. They were filthy and unkempt.

What else can you expect from buzzards?

Unfortunately, a good portion of the homeless population fit this description too.  That's why I refer to them as “Skeksies.” Watching a "Skeksy" eat is enough to convince you that humans really don't need to eat food in order survive. It will certainly turn your stomach upside down and completely ruin your appetite.

I still haven’t figured out why it's necessary for "Skeksies" to leave food particles around their mouths when eating. Are their lips magnetic? Dining at the table with "Skeksies" is a hard ordeal. They talk with mouths full of food, and with foodstuff falling out of their maws. They throw food on the floor when a garbage can is within handy reach. They just don’t give a good-flying-Dutchman's fuck about anything they do.

"Skeksies" don’t bother to wash or change their clothing either. They seem as if they want to be left alone. You can spot a "Skeksy" coming down the block from a good distance too. No one else on the surface of the planet walks like them. They have the walk of the preternatural, of the living dead. It's as if some body part on them has failed, and they have to get along the best they can without it.

I’ve often wondered why they hobble from side-to-side, like a metronome when walking. And then one day I realized what it was. Before they became homeless, they were use to walking about the street with a cool, ditty-bop, but now after being out here on the street so long, sleeping on the hard concrete and what not, their ditty-bop got broken down. Now, all that's left is an awkward wobble.

Even their speech has deteriorated into guttural groans and indecipherable grunts. Neanderthal sounds have replaced what was once their diction. It's impossible to describe it in words, but once you've experienced a "Skek" and heard them speak, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

What more can one say about a "Skeksy," other than they are considered, even by homeless people, to be the lowest of humankind. This poses a challenge to Darwinian Evolution. Humankind is supposed to have evolved from a primitive state to what we are now.

The "Skeksy" has apparently devolved back to the primitive. Before long, they will be swinging from trees in Central Park. I learned something vital, in which I would like to share with you. Whatever you do, during your time spent on the streets, do not fail to give constant attention to your person. As the saying goes, "check yourself, before you wreck yourself." Then you won't lose respect for yourself, and not be able to correct yourself, and have to reject yourself. O.k. I'm sure you get the point of where I'm proceeding with this logic. Bottom line is, you don't want to end up being a "Skeksy, just because you're homeless."

Life is hard enough for an undomiciled person. Elevating oneself back to the level one has taken a tumble from is a real challenge, but there's still hope. However, once you've descended to the level of a "Skeksy," chances are you might not be able to return to the place from whence you've come.

Aside from this, there is another group that I've run into out here, that is definitely on the long slide to the point of no return. This is what I call the "Skelsie." Just from the name of it, I'm sure you can tell it's not going to be pleasant discussing.
(To be Continued...)