Life in the Big City

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Such a beautiful day.  Warm and sunny and that California light that makes everything look polished, even the piles of debris the street kids leave behind them, like dogs marking their patch.

I went up on our fancy schmancy rooftop deck to take pictures of home.

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I realize it looks sort of like Arizona, but nope, it’s right here in the middle of the Castro

The skies are blue, it’s mid July, so of across I was wearing a fleecy hoodie, cause the temps were in the 60s and it was breezy.  As I have mentioned before I always pity these poor tourists who think coming to California in the summer will be balmy.  And sometimes, briefly, it is.  But norms are layers and layers of clothes to put on and remove as the temperatures sway in the breeze.

I met up with Super Agent Fred.  Now that I have sold my house and with it, Fred’s studio, we don’t hang out as much as we.  I got no TV and all of Fred’s work stuff is back downtown in his tiny studio apartment, so now we just coffee and gossip.

That day were chatting about crazies.  With a year round mild temperature (if chill) and a tolerant city government, we have long been home to the homeless.  I may appear heartless, but I am not; I understand if you are living on the sidewalk, it is probably not your idea.  I understand choices were made, some of them yours, some of them not, some of them goof, probably most of them not.  You are afterall calling a ratty backpack, a filthy blanket and the doorway of an out of business tattoo shop “home.” So, chances are, most choices made were not good.

You cannot go three blocks in San Francisco without seeing some homeless guy.  If you have managed that you are either walking with your eyes close (such a chancy idea here)  or possibly you are the crazy guy.  Does the guy tying and untying his show rapidly and speaking to it in chiding tones think he’s the crazy one?  Probably not, and besides, he’s got shoe problems.  Bigger things on his mind.

But on this particular day, the homeless had been unusually abundant.  And they were moving in small packs, four or five to a group, which is not normal.  By the next day, they broken up into the more normal singles, but still, it made Fred and I wonder if some other municipality had come up with the idea of dumping their homeless population on San Francisco and hoping we wouldn’t notice the extras since we have so many to start with.  And, in fact, by today, we seem to be back to our average crazy guys arguing with the trash can kind of day.

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why can’t there be guys like this who need a home?

 

 

15 responses »

    • Plenty, plenty old timers here blame the homeless on the “damn hippies.” And hippies asking for spare change were a shift: begging before was shameful. Panhandling, on the other hand, was just a lark for these kids most of whom were from affluent suburbs

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  1. It’s a multi-layer problem across the country. The last time I was there (about 4 years ago) it didn’t appear as prevalent, but I was only in town for a couple of days. xo

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      • So disappointed they didn’t use Dum Dum Diddle in the film, perhaps Cher will cover it on her forthcumming album of Abba songs.

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  2. A friend of mine works,at the Y here. One day,a homeless guy was,showering. Chiseled and hung he said. We wondered how he maintains that body being homeless. I said maybe you should have a houseboy?!? The homeless here in p hilly is the most I have seen too.

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