Vacation.
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I wake up and go about my business getting ready for the morning. This is the last workday before the Labor Day Weekend. Three days of hearty weekend warriors preparing to go out and party the end of Summer away. The libraries will be closed for those three days, and so will my job. Everyone and everything will be on vacation come tomorrow.
What does 'vacation' mean to a person where every day could be considered a vacation? Not much. The days pass away like an oil slick across rocks. It could be worse: I could have no conception of the passing of time. Having already SCHNAPPED. Sitting and lying around like Yoda.
I've never told you about yoda. An obvious Skel that wears layer upon layer of filthy, black clothing, frayed slacks, torn pockets off his coat. He is a walking cold mess. He lies on the concrete sidewalk in front of an expensive furniture store, using it as a headrest on a bed. There is a rawness about him, a contained fury that is hidden beneath the grime on his face. He never speaks, never approaches anyone for money. He holds no cup, neither is one nearby. But he has money. People stick twenties in his pockets and under his hands as he sleeps. Some bring Happy Meals for the nearby McDonalds or a cup of coffee in the morning. He is out here no matter the weather. Rain, snow, sleet, he is impervious to the elements. We call him Yoda because of his skill in survival, of making it look effortless. He has no equal in New York. He is indeed the Jedi Master.
But I wonder, what is Yoda, the Jedi Master's view of vacation? Is the word completely meaningless to him? Is he even aware of the passage of time? I've been out in the streets for two years now, and I know there are many of you that are quick to say that because I'm a Shelt, or Shelter dweller, that I'm now no longer on the streets. I say, I'm still homeless. The only difference between a streeter and a shelt is that I'm no longer exposed to the elements. And that I have a bed somewhere. Two big pluses for survival, if you ask me.
Well, going back to where I was, I've been out in the streets for two years, and time seems to slip past me. Am I learning from one of the best of them? Am I learning Yoda's lesson? If it wasn't for my Job on Mondays, I would forget what day of the week it was. Sometimes I do even still, catching on at the last moment as to what I should be doing and where. Even when it comes to the SHOUT OUT. Sometimes I go through the motions as if Saturday is a weekday, and find that I have to head out to the SHOUT OUT before I fuck up.I spent the day as if I was on vacation. I didn't do any of my work. I slacked off on IM all day.
Then I found out that a close poet family that I know lost a husband/father.
Very sad. Death is like that. It's very sad. Mourning is the worse, and I know the incredible pain that they are going though. Although I have not lost parents, I have lost close friends and relatives. Death does not pass by easy. Someone, somewhere is feeling pain. And close friends of mine are now doing just that. I feel deeply for them, and if I was a god fearing man, I would pray for them. They will be making arrangements soon, and I will prepare to go to the funeral. This too will be painful.
Suddenly all of my issues seem small and paltry. I seem small and paltry. Life is so precious that it makes no sense how the things in it can take such precedence. Little things can be blown so far out of proportion that they seem insurmountable. Here I am, bitching about not having a home, not having a meaningful life. So how would all of this really go over if I didn't have a life? OR if someone that I loved expired?My post seems all but stupid now doesn't it?
As stupid as my day.
As stupid as the Labor Day Weekend being a vacation for me.
All so stupid.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2008/08/wastrel-dice.html
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