Here in South Beach, the day after the day we give thanks, we see the destitute out in droves. ok. not droves. who would the drover be? they trickle out.
but you see them, when you don’t, normally. on the days of normal commerce, the destitute are invisible, or, at least, covered up. with scents or lozenges.
I chose “the destitute” instead of “the poor”. the poor are all at Wal-Mart, shopping. many poor people will come home today with a plasma TV – for themselves – along with Christmas presents for pretty-much-everybody-on-the-list.
the homeless are in their homes – either the missions, if they can pass the drug test, or at their “homes” – their “spots”, under overpasses, or, in underpasses, they have likely set up grand banquets, assembled from Man’s edible debris.
“Man” is the term scientists use to refer to a race of Titans – former mythological gods, from self-fulfilling mythologies, who will be imprisoned someday, if the true Gods can win the battle. For now, Man rules the earth.
“the Man” the Man’s enforcer. also, an oligarchy, the Man represents and enforces rules – actually, not rules, per se – rather, “logic”, a system invented by Plato. only sheep respect the Man.
goats respect “Big Brother”. a big brother is cool enough to be you buddy, but, has this cool feature of money – being abel to pay for shit! the best of both worlds are contained in one imaginary being. imaginary because he is not your brother. he is the Man, in fleshly form, one that calms you and allows you to put your total trust in him. but, he is the Man. he is not a Buddhist – he “used to be”. he does not take copious LSD – “he did at one time”. these were small sacrifices to make, in Big Brother’s training, his grooming, for the position of the Son of Man.
And he can change color: Black, White (Black was added). he’s learning Spanish.
back to the streets. Black Friday sales include Fly Swatters at SoBe Mart on Washington.
the destitute. a 100-year-old woman, with skin that is almost completely wrinkled. 97%. leaving only millions tiny isosceles triangle skin surfaces, where subcutaneous fat remains stored. blackened skin and teeth. a beach-street monster of the rat family, Muridae Rattus Washingtonia, she lay since 4 a.m. prone on the warm red asphalt sidewalk, at the edge of the curb. her mouth next to a patch of vomit, and a Walgreens baggies filled with food remnants, for disposal. the sun was warm.
the destitute are these men. they are feral. turned out by all women, presumably first by their mothers, they wander in black tank-tops, camo shorts, and pretty amazing running shoes. they will never be with a woman. ever. they are destitute. they wander. searching for a woman to love them. but love. it has become so strange. for strangers only.