3:45 am
I can't sleep. It's 3:03 in the morning. I got home from work two hours ago, and I settled in to read the new issue of Vice, called simply "the Russian issue". Holy fuckin'shit, Russia seems is a messed-up place. Most of the issue is available at the link above, but I blame this bit for my current state of insomnia.
The thought of torture is so shocking to our 'western' sensibilities, yet it's regular-ass life for a good chunk of the world - that is wrong. I know I'm hardly the first to bring this up, but I'm learning to distrust the 'protectors'. There seems to be too much...Interest (self- or otherwise) going on.
My thoughts of torture now turn to those of interest, and looking out for the best of one's own - why do you think some people simply abandon that choice? Allow me to rewind this into some context.
I work downtown. Every single day I am approached by panhandlers, every excuse and character more colorful than the one previous. I choose to give my change to one guy only, who sits outside my building almost everyday, selling Our Voice magazine. His name is George, and he's nice. I'm happy to see that he's made it through the winter. I always keep it in mind that people like him have their reasons for being there, but I'm often left curious about HOW they got there.
I came out of the Starlite tonight and was approached by a younger guy who I've seen probably a dozen or so times on Jasper ave, starting about 2 months ago, when I remember seeing this fairly well-dressed homie kid panhandling - I remember thinking that he didn't look the type - but over the last 8 weeks, I've watched this guy decay into a shadow of himself. I noticed about 2 weeks ago, when he came up out of the subway, mouth bleeding, a deep-looking cut under his eye, and stumbled towards me mumbling something about "needing a bus to BC".
Tonight, his line was asking people for 'money for food'. The kid looked like shit. His teeth were jagged and blackened, and you could tell his jaw was in serious pain, if not broken. His forehead sported a massive goose egg and scabbed-over cut, and all around his lips, spreading onto his chin and cheeks, were cracked, bleeding sores.
He asked me for change, and in my shocked arrogance, said 'dude, you ask me almost every day for money. I've never given you any, and I'm not going to start."
"whatever," he replied.
I went into the pizza place next door to grab a slice - and the decided to order 2, and walked outside and handed one to him.
"I'm going to give you this, but I want to ask you a couple of questions. Is that ok? I'm not here to harass you, I just wanna know some things."
"yeah, ok man. what do you wanna know?"
"what happened to you? Like, where you are from?" I asked.
"over there," he said, and gestured to the east side.
"so you're from Edmonton."
"yup."
"and why are you...still here?" I said, motioning to the streets around us.
"cause I don't fucking care. I just don't. fuck it."
He was being honest. There he stood, vacant expression, sleep and food deprived, totally fucked up, and he was levelling with me. He really didn't care. I felt so sad.
Now I'm sitting here, it's nearly 4AM and I'm connecting the idea torture to this kid. This is what I mean by the abandonment of self-interest. He epitomizes it. He's torturing himself, and there is nothing anybody can do about it.
How completely humbling.
Count your blessings, friends. This is a crazy goddamn world.
The thought of torture is so shocking to our 'western' sensibilities, yet it's regular-ass life for a good chunk of the world - that is wrong. I know I'm hardly the first to bring this up, but I'm learning to distrust the 'protectors'. There seems to be too much...Interest (self- or otherwise) going on.
My thoughts of torture now turn to those of interest, and looking out for the best of one's own - why do you think some people simply abandon that choice? Allow me to rewind this into some context.
I work downtown. Every single day I am approached by panhandlers, every excuse and character more colorful than the one previous. I choose to give my change to one guy only, who sits outside my building almost everyday, selling Our Voice magazine. His name is George, and he's nice. I'm happy to see that he's made it through the winter. I always keep it in mind that people like him have their reasons for being there, but I'm often left curious about HOW they got there.
I came out of the Starlite tonight and was approached by a younger guy who I've seen probably a dozen or so times on Jasper ave, starting about 2 months ago, when I remember seeing this fairly well-dressed homie kid panhandling - I remember thinking that he didn't look the type - but over the last 8 weeks, I've watched this guy decay into a shadow of himself. I noticed about 2 weeks ago, when he came up out of the subway, mouth bleeding, a deep-looking cut under his eye, and stumbled towards me mumbling something about "needing a bus to BC".
Tonight, his line was asking people for 'money for food'. The kid looked like shit. His teeth were jagged and blackened, and you could tell his jaw was in serious pain, if not broken. His forehead sported a massive goose egg and scabbed-over cut, and all around his lips, spreading onto his chin and cheeks, were cracked, bleeding sores.
He asked me for change, and in my shocked arrogance, said 'dude, you ask me almost every day for money. I've never given you any, and I'm not going to start."
"whatever," he replied.
I went into the pizza place next door to grab a slice - and the decided to order 2, and walked outside and handed one to him.
"I'm going to give you this, but I want to ask you a couple of questions. Is that ok? I'm not here to harass you, I just wanna know some things."
"yeah, ok man. what do you wanna know?"
"what happened to you? Like, where you are from?" I asked.
"over there," he said, and gestured to the east side.
"so you're from Edmonton."
"yup."
"and why are you...still here?" I said, motioning to the streets around us.
"cause I don't fucking care. I just don't. fuck it."
He was being honest. There he stood, vacant expression, sleep and food deprived, totally fucked up, and he was levelling with me. He really didn't care. I felt so sad.
Now I'm sitting here, it's nearly 4AM and I'm connecting the idea torture to this kid. This is what I mean by the abandonment of self-interest. He epitomizes it. He's torturing himself, and there is nothing anybody can do about it.
How completely humbling.
Count your blessings, friends. This is a crazy goddamn world.
posted by Eli at 1:58 AM
3 Comments:
Man, it sounds like he's really depressed. It's hard to get back up from the bottom though and that can't make depression any easier. That is totally terrible and I bet there are dozens of people in this city in exactly his situation: didn't care and now can't care.
is it still torturing yourself if you don't have the resources or means to get out of your situation? i mean, yeah i think this shit is humbling. like, i live in vancouver where the poverty is mind-boggling (and much worse than edmonton). but are the people living in the downtown eastside who are dying of combinations of aids & hepatitis & addiction & mental illness & lack of food and shelter torturing themselves? i don't know, but i don't think so.
anyway, but that article was hella fucked up and awful, for lack of better words.
oh yeah, and i also meant to say, that i think there are definitely connections to torture to be made, but i don't think it's the people themselves who are purposely doing it to themselves.
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