After living in a suburb for most of my life, when I moved to a major U.S. city the first thing I noticed was the feces. At first I assumed it was dog poop, but my naivety didn’t last long.
One day I saw a homeless man waddling towards me at a fast speed while holding his ass cheeks. He turned into an alley and took a shit. As I passed him, there was a moment where our eyes met. He sheepishly averted his gaze.
The next day I walked to the same place. There are a number of businesses on both sides of the street that probably all have bathrooms. I walked into each of them to investigate.
In a coffee shop, I saw a homeless woman ask the barista if she could use the bathroom. “Sorry, that bathroom is for customers only.” I waited five minutes and then inquired from the barista if I could use the bathroom (even though I hadn’t ordered anything). “Sure! The bathroom code is 0528.”
The other businesses I entered also had policies for ‘customers only’. Nearly all of them allowed me to use the bathroom despite not purchasing anything.
If I was that homeless guy, I would have shit in that alley, too.
I receive more compliments from homeless people compared to the women I go on dates with
There’s this one homeless guy—a big fella who looks intimidating—I sometimes pass on my walk to the gym. The first time I saw him, he put on a big smile and said in a booming voice, “Hey there! I hope you’re having a blessed day!” Without making eye contact (because I didn’t want him to ask me for money), I mumbled “thanks” and quickly walked away.
I saw him again a few weeks later. With another beaming smile he exclaimed, “You must be going to the gym—you’re looking fit, my man!” I blushed and replied, “I appreciate it, have a good day.” He then added, “God bless you, sir!” Being non-religious, that made me a little uncomfortable.
With our next encounter, I found myself smiling as I approached him. This time I greeted him first, “Good afternoon!” His face lit up with glee. “Sir, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate that. God bless you!” Without hesitation I responded, “God bless you, too!” I’m not sure the last time I’ve uttered those words; I don’t even say ‘bless you’ after people sneeze.
We say hi to each other regularly now. His name is George.
Is that guy dead?
Coming home one day, I saw a disheveled man lying facedown on the sidewalk.
He’s not moving. I crouched to hear if he’s breathing. Nothing.
I looked up and saw a lady in a car next to me stopped at a red light. We made eye contact and I gestured towards the guy as if to say what the fuck do we do? Her answer was to grip the steering wheel and aggressively stare in front of her until the light turned green and she sped off.
Not knowing if I needed to call an ambulance, I asked him, “Hey buddy, you okay?” I heard back a muffled, “AYE KENT GEEUP!”
Well, at least he’s not dead.
“Uhh, what was that? You doing okay?” This time a more articulate, “I CAN’T GET UP,” escaped from him. Despite his clothes being somewhat dirty and not wanting to touch him, I helped him to his feet.
With one look on his face I could tell that he wasn’t all there. I asked him if he knew where he was or if he needed help, but he could only reply with gibberish. It could have been drugs; it could have been mental illness. With confirmation that he wasn’t dead and was able to walk around, I went home.
Who’s giving Brazilian waxes to the homeless?
I was walking behind a homeless man the other day. He was wearing an extra long flannel and sagging his pants low.
Suddenly, he noticed his (one and only) shoe was untied and fixed it promptly by executing a full standing pike. I wasn’t expecting him to have the flexibility of a gymnast.
In doing so, his flannel lifted up to reveal his dick and balls. The strangest thing? Fully shaved. Who’s going around giving pro bono Brazilian waxes to the homeless?
Crazy people talk to themselves because no one else will
Walking to the library one day, I noticed a homeless woman muttering to herself. There was an aura of urine about her. She was missing several teeth.
When she spotted me, she asked for twenty dollars. My father taught me to never give homeless people money because “they’ll just use it for drugs and alcohol.” I wasn’t busy, so I sat down next to her on the sidewalk and asked, “how’s your day going?”
She launched into a tirade about why her life sucks—it was mostly incoherent and I assumed she was crazy. After about ten minutes, she paused. She skittishly made eye contact with me and said “sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Well, sometimes I ramble. But that’s because I have no one to talk to.”
“It’s probably lonely living on the streets.”
“Yeah.”
Once she realized I wasn’t going to abruptly leave, she asked me about myself and a conversation ensued. Over the next thirty minutes I learned that in the course of her life:
- She used to be a groupie for famous rock bands in San Francisco during the 1960s.
- Living the groupie lifestyle, she experimented with different drugs until she became a meth addict (hence the missing teeth).
- Broke and addicted to meth at forty years old, she moved back in with her parents.
- While living at home during this time, her brother began to rape her regularly. He told her that if she spoke up he would tell the police about her meth stash.
- She spoke up. Nobody in her family believed her that her brother was raping her. Her brother stayed true to his word and reported her to the authorities. She served multiple years in prison for possession of meth.
- When she was released, she had nowhere to go since her family had disowned her. She’s been homeless ever since. Sometimes she’s woken up by strangers raping her.
At the end of our conversation, she wished me well and said, “enjoy the library!”
“Have you forgotten how our conversation began?”
“...yes.”
“You were asking me for twenty dollars.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What did you need the money for?”
“My bike’s inner tube is punctured and I’d like to buy a new one.”
I gave her twenty dollars. She shook my hand and said, “God bless you.”
Her name is Teresa.
Part 1: I would have shit in that alley, too
Part 2: A City Within a City
Taiwan has the second lowest violent crime on Earth, right after Japan. I am an Engineer, I have two masters degrees, and have made decent money in both Taiwan and the USA. I spent a summer and most of an autumn unhoused in Taiwan. In Taipei, I often slept on benches near Hell Valley, and woke up and went to the hotspring in the morning with the older folks who liked to go at that time. Other times I slept around Banciao or other side of the river. Several nice nights, I would wake up to drunk college kids hanging out around me, occasionally falling asleep or passing out for a couple of hours in the same parks I liked.
I got a scooter for about $200 and went further South. Initially I slept in the little gazebos, and later I slept anywhere, and got a hammock with a bugnet to hang up in the trees. I slept on the toy trains in the town South of Sun Moon lake. I slept by the old tree on the Pacific side of Hehuan (and liked camping at various heights on mount Hehuan in the summer, as I could effectively pick the temperature at night). Could swim by waterfalls or snorkel in the ocean near Hualien, then motor to a comfortable altitude, eat a little snack, and sleep. The milky way was generally visible to me. There are also untold beauty in potential cross-island passes above and South of WuJie, but I never made it through that way. I slept in part of the old hotspring near the temples on the Pacific side of Hehuan. Woke up in a warm bath and cops shining flashlights down into the canyon to see me. I slept under the stars. I slept on concrete under gazebos through torrential rains.
There are a lot of very clean public restrooms. I cleaned in the public restrooms or in rivers. Also, I got used to always having napkins in my cargo pants. Keeping clean was the biggest thing I discovered in a few months of this. Also bug spray, though the mosquitos there don't carry diseases for the most part, so it's nothing other than a nuisance. A windy spot does better than bug spray and doesn't smell weird.
I had enough money for all the food and gas I could have used in years. I had public healthcare and permanent residency. I was 35 and no children. Without the threat of crime, and in a mild climate, really, what need would I have for a house?
In the latter part, I was employed managing an English school through an ownership change. A local person found out I was sleeping in a hammock in a Gazebo halfway up Tiger Head Mountain (near Zhong Xin Bei). She was religious (Yi Guan Dao, I think) and all but insisted I rent from her. She made kind of a fuss with the owners and rented me a room really cheap in a large building with many college students. Thus ended my generally very nice experience of safe homelessness.
Since returning to the USA, I sometimes feel I am in danger when I have to stop and get gas for my car. I cannot imagine being unhoused here.
The issue is not whose fault it is for the crime, but whose fault it is for the using up the extra resources to prevent the crime, which is not an issue in the lifeguard example. And that itself is a specific case of "how much more than average do you have to use the commons before you can be blamed for overusing the commons". Which is partly a matter of degree and depends on things like how much you use it, what people's expectations are, what re... (read more)