Wednesday, September 16, 2009

At Play Between the Toes of Gods


    I rub my eyes.

    It was time to take a break from all of this shit. I got my clothes on and headed for the streets. I walked briskly, ducking through foot traffic and as I am making my way across 77th street, a young man with a clip board approaches me, stepping into my path even, to speak to me. I point to my headsets, then wave him off. Now that was at 77th street. At 72nd street there are two of these YOHO's, clipboards tucked under their arms, waving down passerby. I wave them off, pointing to my headsets and increasing my pace.

    At 68th street, the same fucking thing. OH, and at 60th street! Now I'm full of senseless rage. How many times do you have to turn someone down before they get the message. Well you can't get mad at them because it's not always the same dewy eyed, clear skinned twenty year old trying to save the whales, and that is why their handlers do this, because they know that they can have the same area saturation without the direct aggravation. You can't get angry at this kid, because he has nothing to do with it. It's the handler who is hiding out somewhere watching the events. I feel bad for these kids...somewhat.

    But now, I make a HOBO-OBSERVATION. Yeah, that's right, you get these from me every once in a while, because I'm homeless. And please don't call an SRO a home. It's a temporary residence until a home is found. So oh please, I don't take kindly to living in the space pod for the rest of my life. I would like a bathroom behind my front door at least.

    Still, skip that...the observation: Now I'm walking back uptown on the West side of the street (I had come down on the East side), hopefully I will not run into those annoying children again. No, this time I cross upon several down and out homeless guys, looking like shit, nasty clothing, bearded, shoe-less, the works, sitting on concrete sidewalks or on milk crates, holding up signs with the typical: I'm homeless, I haven't eaten, need money to go somewhere to bury a dead aunt (no, don't laugh, I've really seen one of these), or the substance thereof. And I notice that they are just sitting there. Why don't they do like those kids and jump in your way. You know, how they used to, hold out their hands, walking down the street, walking in the paths of pedestrians.

    Do you know why? Well if you've ever been homeless and panhandled, and lets take a moment to thank god that I never did, and tried the 'hand stunt', people will actually call the police on their cell phones and the police will arrive and arrest you for 'Aggressive Panhandling'. Yeah, that's right, "Aggressive Pandhandling". So, lets get this right, if a homeless man does exactly what these wet in the Pampers children are doing just across the street, they get arrested.

    And don't give me that 'Freedom of Speech' shit. They are doing EXACTLY the same thing. One, New Yorker's can't abide by because they hate to see the underside of their beautiful city, and on the other hand, oh what lovely display of free speech in our fair city. That's New Yorkers for you. That's their neurotic behavior coming to the fore. No wonder why it's so hard to do things with this city's bureaucracy. It is just as bent a mentally as the New Yorker with a cell phone, wielding it like a lightsaber or something.

    Hey, I know that every one out of three homeless person begging in the streets is a damn fraud, especially, the big giveaway is the bold faced lie: I haven't eaten in a number of days is bullshit. Pure bullshit. I'm going to print out cards that just read, 'Holy Apostles Church, 28th and 9th, lunchtime, Aloha!'

    I finished my walk and gratefully came to the Space Pod.... hmmm, that's what I think I'm going to call my room, The Space Pod, from now on. I make myself comfortable and come to the decision that I need ID. I need ID. Pure and simple. I need to have one of those Enhanced NewYork State Non Driver's license ID. So I go about trying to get one because I've been long enough without ID. So, have you ever lost your wallet and found that you needed to get all of your IDs back? Have you tried for a New York State ID? Don't if you're homeless. Just don't. Remember people, I'm still considered, 'homeless' by me and the state fo New York. So, because of this fact, I have no way of getting many of these things that I need as ID. Getting ID is impossible for the homeless.

    I mean, I surf to the DMV website, which refers me to a form (on the web) that refers me to two documents, that link me to two forms apiece. These four forms point me into the direction of eight webpages, that instruct me to download sixteen forms.

    This shit is just this fucking crazy! They must be out of their goddamned minds! And each form keeps telling you how you need documents, to get this 'proof'. And you need six forms of proofs to get this one document, which needs six forms of proofs for that document, and this webwork gets right down confusing after a spell. You are turned around so bad that your ass is at your front.

    Why oh why am I tackling this? BECAUSE I NEED ID! I have to have ID, just to prove who I am, and because of several terrorists I have now got to go through this enormous rigamarole just to prove that HEY, I'M HOBOBOB! What kind of shit is this? All you used to need was a social security card and a birth certificate, and then you can at least get a card that says You are YOU! But all this bullshit about tax forms, and resident forms or rent check or credit card statements, or blah blah blah. Who thinks this shit up? Who does this? What genius comes out of college and wants to put all of this higher learning to work in the real world, and plops this bullshit and spreads it all around?

    Is it a college person? Why do I say that? Simply because that's the level of education that you have to have to get these kind of jobs. I'm not saying that they all do (I mean, some are brothers of sisters of cousins, sons and daughters...you know how THAT bullshit goes) but mostly you need a college education before they even consider you for such positions. So tra la la la la, la la, la la.

    Moving on, back to this fucking ID thing. So now, I'm staring at another pile of paperwork. Nice. Something that I thought would take a blink of an eye, now looms to be another big project. This is fucked up shit.

    I sit down, beaten down by the system. Inundated with paperwork all around, not getting anywhere because I don't have keys to the kingdom. Everything is a fucking puzzle. Everything. It's to dissuade you from taking action. From doing things. The average man and woman don't have time for this shit. They just don't.

    I guess I do. I'm out of work, right?

    HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/09/at-play-between-toes-of-gods.html
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