Hobo Handbook: Memoirs of a Homeless Poet in New York (Excerpt #41)

THE HOBO HANDBOOK: MEMOIRS OF A HOMELESS POET IN NEW YORK

By Daniel Canada c.2010

                                                             

CHAPTER THREE

PERSONALITIES OF THE HOMELESS (Continued)

HAT HEAD reminds one of the cartoon character in Dr. Seuss' "The Cat in the Hat." He's a real humorous looking fellow, I tell you. But don't laugh! He’s very serious about his fashion statements. He's a Rastafarian mon! And Rastafarians like to don long-and I mean really long-colorful, hats on their heads, to cover their lengthy dread locks. These hats come in all kinds of creative designs that stagger the fertile imagination. It makes me mindful of carnival in the Caribbean.

Now, I ain’t dissing on Jamaicans, because I come from an ethnically diverse neighborhood myself, and happen to know some real good people from the islands. However, “Hat Head” is a special Jamaican Rasta mon, because he’s the first person I ever saw use his hat as a place to stash his weed.

No. I didn’t stammer and you’re not reading a misprint. It’s exactly as I said. “Hat Head” wears his towering, cat-in-the–hat, head piece as a cover to stash his marijuana, mon.

Brilliant, isn’t it?

Well, it's worked well for “Hat Head.” So far “Hat Head” hasn't been busted by the cops and I’m not going to give you any further information about where he sleeps or likes to hang out either. I like the man and wouldn't want to see him locked up in the joint, for a simple things as getting his smoke on in the public.

What is more, all you PC people out there can rest assure, you’re not going to catch a “contact high” from simply reading this piece about the Rasta mon and his marijuana.

Trust me.

By the way, “Hat Head” isn’t a lazy bloke either. He’s always looking for a gig, be it construction, as a laborer, or helping unload trucks for shows in various parks, throughout the city. The dude works hard for his weed, mon. You’ll never see “Hat Head” begging for bread either. He comes from the West Indies and they believe strongly in the virtues of good old fashion hard work, and like to maintain such established work ethics. Be it legal or illegal.

Hey! Give the mon a break, you bumper clod.

Having a substance abuse situation and being homeless doesn’t necessarily have to pose a problem, if you’re willing to get up and work for your shit. Besides, panhandling’s low-class and extremely uncouth. Remember, nobody owes you a goddamned thing, simply because you’re homeless and broke. Furthermore, panhandling and bumming belongs to the domain of the “Skeksies,” and gives homeless people a bad PR.

You want to get your smoke on? Get a job. You want to drink? Hustle up some work. You need to take an occasional hit off a crack pipe…Well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest.

Leave the hard-working people alone. They have families to feed, college tuitions and mortgages to pay. Quit trying to get over on the old guilt trip, bullshit. Nobody needs to feel guilty around you, because they haven’t hit skid-row yet, and your sorry ass has. If “Hat Head” can work hard to earn his weed, so can you.

So, get busy and shake a leg, chump.

You’re running out of get high quick. 

(To be continued...)  

Hobo Handbook: Memoirs of a Homeless Poet in New York (Excerpt #40)

THE HOBO HANDBOOK: MEMOIRS OF A HOMELESS POET IN NEW YORK

By Daniel Canada c.2010

 

CHAPTER THREE

PERSONALITIES OF THE HOMELESS(Continued)

 

TRINITY is living proof of the truth of the Athanasius Creed: “For there is one Person of the Father, another of the Son, and another of the Holy Ghost. But the Godhead of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, is all one.”

I’m not much of a religious person at all. Fact of the matter, my cosmological views are so outlandish, that I prefer not to disclose them whatsoever. Period and amen. As far as the above mentioned creed codified at the late Council of Nicea in 325 A.D. is concerned, I was not a believer until I ran across him.

I’m talking about “Trinity.”

Have you ever seen a man talking to himself and holding three conversations all at once? And with different, competing, points of views? It would be incredible, wouldn't it? Well, PT Barnum would declare himself a charlatan, strike his tents and leave town if he’d saw the likes of “Trinity.” Even he would be astonished if he had happened upon “Trinity” on a New York City soup kitchen.

I mean like you can almost, actually hear three separate, individual, voices conversing and arguing with each other simultaneously, when “Trinity” speaks.

No shit. I kid you not.

It's a bit frightening, to tell the truth. That's why I normally give “Trinity” wide berth, whenever I’m around him. You never know. I wouldn't want one of those discarnate personalities to get upset, break loose and throwing me a Linda Blair style beating.

No sir!

“Trinity” seems to be at peace quarreling with himself. Correction! They seem to be at peace quarreling among themselves. So far, no one’s gotten unruly and no violence has erupted during all the chatting. Thank heavens! So I guess it’s all good for “Trinity” to fuss about and converse with all his unseen companions. The thing that gets me the most, is that “Trinity” will show up to a soup kitchen, wait for a half hour or more on line, even in the most intemperate weather, with a meal ticket in hand, but never go inside and eat.

Instead he’ll gleefully stand outside, on the outskirts of the line, conversing with his “selves,” waving his ticket around for all to see. When it’s time to go inside and chow down, he’ll simply return the ticket back to the volunteer, and merrily walk away into the blue yonder. Perhaps the alter personality that decided against eating that particular meal, on that day, won out in the debate. As a result, the rest of them followed along and hit the bricks. 

One can never tell.

Other than that, “Trinity” is basically a harmless guy. However, sometimes a few of the "Skeksies" do get a little worried and uneasy around him, especially when he goes through his multiple personality tomfoolery. Even the crazy homeless folks and "Skeks" know that they’ve been bested when it comes to “Trinity,” and stay far away from him.

Let’s just face it. Trinity’s thrice-gone out to pasture and there’s no returning to home plate for him. Oh well. I was holding out a modicum of hope for the poor chap.

Trinity’s story is unique, in that I really don’t have a counterpoint to speak of in his behalf. The fact of the matter is he’s just plain crazy. Notwithstanding this, I chose his story to make a social point that I feel would’ve been easily overlooked; and that’s the government’s role in overseeing the needs of the mentally ill, that find themselves homeless in so many cities across this great U.S. of A.

The burden falls squarely upon the shoulders of the government to provide proper, affordable-if not free-health care for the mentally ill, and to see to it that they are safely tucked away in affordable staffed housing, in the event they are no longer able to take care of themselves.

Unfortunately, this is not the case, and there are a lot of Trinities out there, with stories that aren’t as comical as the one I decided to highlight. Perhaps it would be a good thing for us to contact our local politicians and press them to enact legislature that will guarantee the protection of the mentally ill, especially those found homeless and abandoned on the streets.

I don’t know.

Either that, or to go back to the football game, playing on the fucking twenty-two inch T.V.

Along with the beer nuts.

Having said this much, I can confidently step off my soapbox…at least for now.

So don’t get too comfortable. 

(To be continued...)