CrazyJohn on the last straw-
It has become as regular a daily routine as brushing my teeth or eating lunch... whenever I walk anywhere I am asked for "spare change" by at least three homeless people. I know what you're thinking... because many of you have said it... "that's city life." City life is hard, yes... this I know. And I also know that I'll become hardened the longer I stay here. But I don't think that's what I want. I don't want to be harder... I WANT to feel bad when I see someone who lives on the streets and who doesn't know if they'll be able to eat all day when they wake up. I think you're SUPPOSED to feel bad when you see that happening to a fellow human being... because it's a terrible thing. It just is. And I don't want to be hardened so much that I can see that and not feel anything... but it's so hard to see it every day and not feel overwhelmed and numb.
I went back to my alma mater a few weeks ago and I saw a very good friend of mine who always seems to know me better than anyone else, and after being with me for about two minutes, she said "You've changed." My heart sank as I tried to play it off as "good change or bad change"... I knew it was a bad change. It was about that sparkle in my eyes... "my love of life and my care for other people"... and how it's dimmed. It no longer sparkles quite so bright... it's been numbed by citylife... and I've only been here for a month.
The worst part is (getting political) nothing's going to change. Do you think these people vote? Of course they don't... they have no political voice... they can't say "tax breaks for the rich... what a fucking stupid idea!" because no one is listening. How would they even register to vote? "Yeah... I live in the doorway next to the McDonalds on Wells and North... the doorway protects me from the wind at night."
One of the tricks to playing this off like it's not a problem is to blame drugs... these homeless people are all drug addicts, therefore we shouldn't feel bad that they don't have a home. Well... Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public, if that is the case then please explain to me the smile on the old black man's face as he says "God bless you" because I had 28 fucking cents in my pocket that I could give him. A quarter and three pennies... and he asks God to bless me... >sigh< I wouldn't mind being on the drug he's on.
And it's almost always a "he." Actually... up until tonight it has always been black men asking me for change. And it's getting easier and easier to spot them from a distance. Black males, dark clothes and always a coat, always by himself, and not walking anywhere in a particular hurry. When you've got no home to go to, I guess you don't really need to walk faster than a western saunter. But tonight was different... tonight was "got any spare change, baby?" "Baby"... like she was whoring herself out. I gave her all the change I had in my pocket and she asked for a dollar. "I'm just looking to get me somethin' to eat," she said. "I'm sorry" I replied. I'll give change, but I won't give bills... it's just not what I do. And she looks at me disappointed like I owe her the money or something. And that's when I think to myself "I'm an unemployed comedian living alone in Chicago... what the fuck do you want from me?" Honestly... I owe over $1200 per month for housing, parking, phone, and cable... and that's before food, gas, clothing, and anything else... I have no job... and I just spent $9 on orange juice, grape juice, and a loaf of fucking bread... and you're looking at me like I owe you something? Please.
And this is why I have to get out of this city... desperately. I can't do this... I'm not strong enough.