Escape From the City!

     Story:
     I wake up the next morning after about three hours of sleep. I don't want to do anything else than continue to cuddle on that couch that's way too small, but I promised Caleb I would make him my specialty, my vegetarian chilli! It takes a while, but I finally rip myself up. I couldn't find my bag with my sweater in it the previous night, but now I instantly know where it is somehow. I grab it from underneath the table that I didn't think to look under and head out in the crisp morning sunlight to Norristown. It's way too cold for late Autumn, but that just makes me pedal a little harder.
     I finish the chilli just in (that's me!) time for Caleb to wake up to. We enjoy the meal together until he bids me adieu and leaves for work. I resupply from his expansive food stock and get on the trail back to Inner City (that's downtown Philly). I have some plans, including meeting a published poet at the University of Pennsylvania! But before I've ridden a mile away from Caleb's, Lionheart's left pedal falls off. Fuck.
     Unable to ride (except down a hill) I hop on a train to downtown. I met a man on the train named Rick who had worked there for 26 years. He had just a couple more to go though and then he was going to retire. What really struck me about Rick was how personable, cheerful, and kind he was. I asked him how he could be so expressive after 26 years of this same train ride. He told me about his two daughters that he was putting through college so that they'd be "put on the path that they want to walk." I was a bit inspired by Rick. I could not do what he is doing. He is driven by his duty and he accepts that. In doing so, he has gained a strength beyond what I am capable of. I tried to write him a poem but I didn't finish before my stop came up. The stop that Rick helped me figure out I wanted. Here's all I got:

     Train Man Train Man everyday
     You ride back and forth, but never your own way
     Are you bored? Frustrated? None can say
     For you are noble and kind, never saying nay

     I get off the train and it's too late now to get to a bike shop to fix the pedal, just as it's too late to meet the poet or anything else I was planning... Except taco night. Some cool dudes I met at the show at the Batting Cages invited me to their Taco Tuesday! I really wanted to meet that poet so I told them maybe after that, but I already missed him so I decided to swing by. Proving once again that it all happens for a reason, this encounter was meant to be. Over tacos, the five residents, their guests, and I totally vibed. I told stories, gave advice, and we all laughed. I was actually on my way to some other place to crash (which was good to have, 'cause the back up plan was sleeping ina park) but they invited me to stay there! The five of them were unanimous in inviting me on their couch and I was happy to be there!
     I ended up staying six night with Connor, Josh, Brian, Jason, and Alex. Through observing and interacting with them I got to know them pretty well! They frequently turn their apartment into a music venue and have house shows, which are awesome. They call their place The Petting Zoo. They all attend the nearby Temple University. Over the next five days I had several wild adventures, some with them and some on my own. I enjoyed a party they had, I cleaned and cooked, I made it to a poetry reading, I read a poem to my favorite band and sang along to their songs, I went to the art museum, and I escorted a lovely young lady through the city. But all those stories will have to wait for another time. There's fifty miles from here to Susquehannock state park and I gotta get going! I'm timing it so I can check out a dumpster along the way as the market closes. I'm learning so much, and there's so much more to learn.








     Reflection:
     Ever since learning the possibilities of dumpster diving, I've realized I don't need money as much as I thought I did. I ended up giving about $80 away to the homeless this week, plus more in food. I expect to be giving a lot of my money away in this fashion. Now before anyone thinks I am being ripped off or something, allow me to assure you I am not. Allow me to also question your perception of acceptable behavior. During my time in Philadelphia, I noticed many people on the side of the road, often holding a discreet little sign, asking for some donation. Most people walk by, looking forward with little white dots in their ear, looking intensely at their phone, or suddenly thinking about the weather (looking up).
     At one intersection, I also noticed a man in a pretty poorly designed printed T-Shirt (with words claiming to be a jersey). Every red light, he'd run out with his bucket and go to every window to deliver a very brief, uninspired, and emotionless spiel to donate to _____ High School Basketball team for new jerseys. When the light would turn green, he'd put the bills in his pocket and move to the front to do it again. I watched him do this a couple times, admiring his good idea, though questioning his sincerity and wondering how doing this routine made him feel, when he saw me staring and yelled at me, "Whatchu want!?" I'd seen enough, and rode off.
     Contrast this scene to Menor, a young Hispanic man I saw sitting to the side of traffic being largely ignored as described previously. See, Menor is 23. His birthday was on Wednesday. He moved up from Florida about a year ago. His three kids are with their mother somewhere. Menor got a citation from a police officer to appear in court. He doesn't speak a lot of English, and he thinks the citation is a fine. He thinks he'll pay able to pay it off in monthly payments. It's not a bill though. They are going to arrest Menor, and they are probably going to deport Menor. He has been trying to check craigslist for a jobs, but they won't let him on the computer at the library, because he doesn't have an ID, and in the city you need an ID to use the computer for your allotted one hour a day (as I write this, I am in a small town's library 30 miles or so out of the city. A please, smile, and thank you got me all the time I wanted). I learned all this by just talking with Menor. I just sat down next to him and asked what was up. He stopped asking for donations when he saw that I was genuinely interested in his story. Nothing dangerous about it either, busy street in the middle of the day.
     Not that anybody is actually paying attention to Menor—and that's the weird part. Everyone is just walking around, completely oblivious to this man's suffering, completely caught up in their own little world, they don't even look at him asking for help. I tried to help Menor by dancing for some change or by talking to people. Not a soul responded. Now I don't judge anyone—I used to walk by too, and felt rather uncomfortable when people got in my face about asking for money, but now that I know Menor's (and many others like him) story, I can see just how fucking crazy it is that everyone is pretending they don't see him. They're just pretending he's not there. They just walk by. Just the fact of this situation in our society worries me. Just stop and think about it for a second. If you're in trouble on the street no one will help you.
     So when I see someone, I stop and say hello. I ignore their sign or plea for money and just start talking to them; y'know, make conversation. At some point I'll offer a banana or an orange. It becomes really obvious really fast if the individual is just trying to panhandle money, or if they really need help and don't know how to get it. People that need help want to talk. They want to share their story. They need advice, help, or maybe just someone to talk to. People that are just seeking free/easy money don't want to talk. They don't want food (unless they're hungry). They are annoyed by your presence and would like you to give them a buck or scram. Preferably give 'em a buck and scram.
     I encourage you all to give food. Imagine if every person on the streets was given just a slice of bread or even one piece of an orange from every passerby? They would be showered in food. Additionally I can not image a single reason, both on a micro or a macro level, that this would be a bad thing at all. Anyone who is going to beg for food on the street probably really needs it.



     Poetry:
     Two this week! First, A poem I wrote on top of my gracious hosts' roof, observing the city pulse and breathe.

     "Assurance"

     The system beeps and blinks
     Helpful hums as the light man appears
     Red Green Red Green—interchanging forever.
     Metal dots—stop move stop move.
     Where are the people?
     Hard to see but
     they're still there
     They're still getting out of their holes to interact
     They're immerging from roof tops and balconies and windows
     They're living, and the city is their playground
     At least, some of them are.
     Some aren't listening at all.
     Some just follow the system.
     The system tells us where to go
     Wait, walk, wait, walk—don't disrupt the flow
     Fleshy dots—stop move stop move.
     Come here eat this! Go there buy that!
     Come here eat this! Go there buy that!
     Come here eat this! Go there buy that!
     Go there buy that!
     Go buy that!
     Go buy that!
     Go buy that!
     Go buy that!
     Buy that!
     Buy that!
     Buy that!
     Buy that!
     Buy that!

     So you do.
     And it feels good.
     Because you wanted it.
     You wanted that Big Mac, right?
     You wanted that vacation, right?
     You needed that medicine, right?
     Now you have everything you need and want.
     So now, you're happy, right?
    
     And here's my (currently) most recent one. Rather than tell you the how/where about it I would love to get some feedback to this one. I don't care if you like it or not. I want to know how it makes you feel or what you see (if anything). I will, however, tell you that when I read it I have a very very cheerful tone, and that I think this is my best poem yet. More to come!
Thanks!

     "The Courtyard"

     The murky tarnished penny bronze water
     looks clean and white as it falls.
     The well maintained shrubbery shows no signs of brush
     Instead, the fresh mulch shows signs of recent upheaval.
     Flowers exist in neat little lines
     Organized by color and height and type.
     Five young trees stand intersectionally spaced from one another.
     Each enjoying the abundant water in the ground that it need not compete for
     They are adorned with cords and wires
     Electrical energy travels unendingly up these tubes
     far faster than transpiration could ever hope to match
     to power the artificial lighting
     thousands of fireflys, held in place
     wrapping around the trunk as if a vine.
     The trees are aligned perfectly
     in a proportionately three by one rectangle of vibrantly green grass
     about as large as four small homes
     from the nearby neihborhoods.
     A clean and flat gravel path
     Winds predictably around the sharp 90°corners
     inviting the lunch goers to explore
     and perhaps inspect the four potted pine trees
     placed at each point.
     Well dressed men and women emerge from the presiding structure
     Sipping lattes and indulging in frappuccinos.
     They never leave the shade of the building.
     They just enjoy the peaceful control of this place
     and the gentle crashing music
     from the fake waterfall.


      Pictures:
     I was so fortunate to meet the awesome dudes at The Petting Zoo (and stay under their room for six nights)! These guys really know how live!

 As thanks I cleaned up that mess ^ Along with some others.

    House shows are just like, the coolest thing ever. Local and underground, it's all about community, supporting the art, and having a good time. Probably that last one the most. Nothing wrong with that!