Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Life According to Homeless Nathania

Fascinating rantings of a homeless friend of mine I often talk to on my runs around the park... as verbatim as I can get.....:

"Look, I'm not interested in the 'life of...' Know what I mean? I don't wanna know about the 'life of an artist,' the 'life of a investment banker' or the 'life of a homeless person.' I'm interested in life. And don't tell me life is this or that or isn't this or that and don't tell me it could be worse or better. There are people I will compare myself to and if I go competin' over who's got it worse, I'll go jump in front of a bus on THEIR behalf just to let them win. The question isn't who's got it worse or better or what does it all mean? It's deeper than that. The question isn't, is life worth living? Like, Life with a capital L. I mean, the question? I don't even know if any of us even know what the question is? And THAT ALONE makes me question the point of all this, I mean, if the point is, is MY life worth living or not living, that's a moment by moment thing. I mean the answer might be love or it might be procreation or it might be sex or it might be survival. How will any of us know if we can't even get the damn question right?"

THE USUAL (An abstract sound meets iambic pentameter work)

  The Usual The stink. The plink and clink, so rinky-dink, Our winkless cries went down the kitch’n sink. Oh, strum und drang. D’you k...