Homeless Encounters

there are a lot of homeless people in los angeles. in fact, an estimated 254,000 men, women, and children experienced homelessness in los angeles county during some part of the last year, and approximately 82,000 people are homeless on any given night.

so, depending on where you live and what you're doing, chances are good that you will encounter/see a homeless person on any given day. for me, living in hollywood, it's pretty much a guarantee every time i leave my house...like today.

now the homeless in hollywood are a particularly diverse bunch, ranging from the packs of runaway teens to the creepy woman who sits in her wheelchair near the post office cradling a puppet in her lap and everything in between (including, but not limited to: the down on their luck, the alcoholics/drug addicts, the soon to be famous, and the schizophrenics -- the puppet woman may or may not be a member of this group...she may or may not be a member of the second to last group too).

now, how i interact with a homeless person tends to vary depending on which of the aforementioned groups i think they belong to.

for instance, i tend to not give homeless people money (at least not directly) because i don't like being lied to and the reality is i just can't trust whether or not they are actually a "down on their luck" person who is going to use the money to buy food, or an "alcoholic/drug addict" person who is going to use the money to buy alcohol or drugs (the exception to this case is the rare occasion where i've come across a homeless person with a sign that reads something to the effect "not gonna lie, need money for booze." i pretty much always give that guy money if for no other reason then to reward his honesty).

i have a little more sympathy for the homeless youth, even though i know there's still a chance that if i give them money they'll use it for something other then what they claim. which is why when i run into them outside the grocery store, instead of giving them money, i'll often just buy them a jar of peanut butter or some cheese.

the hardest group to interact with, as you may have already guessed, are the schizophrenics...mostly because they don't interact with you as much as they just shout stuff incoherently in your direction.

when i encounter a homeless schizophrenic, i usually keep my head down, quicken my pace, count my blessings that neither i nor anyone else i care about is a homeless schizophrenic, and bemoan the fact that we as a country don't do more to provide better care for the weakest among us.

then again, usually when i encounter a homeless schizophrenic they are standing on a corner or sitting on the sidewalk or lying in some alley, as opposed to say repeatedly kicking the front passenger tire on my car, which, coincidentally, is how today's encounter with a homeless schizophrenic began.

i had gone to cvs to pick up a few things and upon pulling into the parking lot noticed a homeless person standing in said lot exhibiting all the classic signs of schizophrenia (incoherent speech. check. neglect of personal hygiene. check. angry outbursts. check).

but he seemed to be mostly keeping to himself so i didn't pay him too much attention when i parked and went inside. once inside it was business as usual, i collected the items i came for, waited in line to check out, told the cashier i did not have my cvs card on me, and paid. and that's when things got interesting...

i exited the store and there he was kicking the shit out of my front tire (pausing every few seconds to scream at it). slowly, i approached trying to determine what the best course of action was. eventually, i decided i would first try talking to him. after all, he was, regardless of his condition, still a human being.

"sir, um, excuse me, that's my car your kicking."

no response.

i tried again, "excuse me, sir, can you please stop kicking my tire, i'd like to leave."

this time he stopped. he looked up at me and for the slightest of moments i saw what i thought was the glimmer of recognition behind his eyes that reminds people to not repeatedly kick the tire on a stranger's car.

but, alas, the moment soon passed. he screamed something at me that sounded like "gorillas don't run up hot dog nation" (though i could be mistaken) and returned to the task at hand, kicking my tire.

at this point i paused to regroup and consider my options (i also made a mental note to consider getting one of those car alarms key chains, my thinking being had i had one of these alarms and pushed the button on the key chain, the alarm probably would have scared him away):

option a. call the police -- upside, a presumably safe solution to resolve the situation. downside, i'd have to wait for the police to show up and probably would be stuck dealing with the situation for a lot longer then i would have liked.

option b. try and lure him away from my car by any means necessary and in the ensuing chaos make my escape -- upside, a presumably quicker resolution to the situation. downside, results not guaranteed, let alone guaranteed safe.

well, suffice to say, i opted for option b (with the caveat that if i was still trying to get him away from my car for longer then 5 minutes i would initiate option a).

so i reached into my pocket, pulled out a handful of change, yelled "hey" at the man, and when he turned to look at me i threw the change away from my car towards the far end of the parking lot. he watched transfixed as the change landed with symphony of clangs, he then mumbled (incoherently) and returned his attention to my tire (i.e. kicking it).

now, had this encounter taken place a couple of weeks ago, this moment would have probably signaled the end of my attempts to distract the homeless guy and get him away from my car without having to resort to calling the po-po. BUT thanks to the awesomeness that is my messenger bag, i still had one more card to play.

i opened up my bag and searched through its contents looking for something that i could use, and there at the very bottom of the bag was the super bouncy ball i had tossed in a few days ago in case i was out and about and in need of keeping myself entertained (also now in the bag for these purposes: silly putty, a slinky, and a yo-yo).

i pulled the super bouncy ball out (it was one of those rainbow colored ones), once again yelled, "hey," and then threw...

guy took off chasing after it like it had the secrets to life contained inside.

quickly, i ran around to the driver's side, unlocked my car, and got in. i looked up just in time to see him finally corral the ball into his hands, and he looked up just in time to see me start the ignition.

for a moment we both stared at each other, like something out of some bizarre david lynch western movie not yet made. then he blinked and took off running away from me and out of the parking lot, super bouncy ball still in hand.

i watched for a moment as he continued to get further away, and as i watched i considered where on the scale of exploitative and inappropriate behavior my choice to essentially treat this man like a dog by luring him away from my car with a modified game of fetch fell.

eventually concluding that he seemed a lot happier with the super bouncy ball then he ever did kicking my tire.

The Day After, The Hitler Youth Brigade, And A Taste Of Bird

i'm sure there are those among you who have been waiting with baited breath to hear how the messenger bag field test went last night...well wait no longer, i'm happy to tell you my bag performed like a champion.

in fact, i would say that the bag perhaps even exceeded my expectations. sure, i took some flak for walking around with "a glorified purse," but the ratio of flak taken to comfort achieved wasn't even close (certainly not anywhere near close to the level it would have needed to be in order to make me rethink my decision).

although, at one point a couple of (really) drunk people in a car screamed "heil hitler" at me and my brother while we were walking home after getting some late night food at the 101, but i'm pretty certain this had nothing to do with my bag.

to be honest, i have no idea what the reason was behind their religious epithet. however, possible explanations include:

1. they were bigoted, racist, anti-semites. they did have shaved heads/crew cuts, but they were foreign, armenian or maybe turkish (i'm not sure whether that makes this explanation more or less likely).

2. they were really, really, really shitfaced (and, as everyone knows, anti-semitic slurs are much more acceptable when you are really, really, really shitfaced).

3. they were method actors, still in character from whatever white supremacist/aryan youth themed movie they were working on (in which case, i commend them on the dedication to their craft).

also, (and perhaps even more perplexing then the slurs themselves) i'm still not entirely certain how they determined that we were jewish. it's not as if i (or my brother) walk around wearing a yarmulke or any other yid gear that would instantly identify me (or him) as being of the jewish persuasion. however, possible explanations include:

1. even sans yarmulke, we (apparently) look jewish...or at least jewish enough to warrant a "heil hitler" thrown at us (though i'm fairly certain our horns were not exposed at the time).

2. i mistakenly wore my cardigan with the giant yellow star of david patch when i left the house last night (hate it when that happens).

3. i was shouting passages of my bar mitzvah torah portion out as i walked (i was also rather intoxicated so this shouldn't be immediately dismissed).

i suppose a combination of any/all of the above is possible. unfortunately, i didn't have the chance to ask them before they drove away, so i guess we'll just be left to wonder.

anyway, back to my bag. like i was saying, it was glorious, having it with me and having the ability to comfortably carry all the stuff i usually cram into my pockets really made a difference.
and i'm not talking about some theoretical difference. no, no, this is a difference you can actually see.

because i had my bag, i decided to bring my camera with me to the concert, something that i normally wouldn't have done, as it would have been just one more thing to carry/worry about losing. but seeing as how that was not a problem...

a treat for all you kids who couldn't make it out last night. here's andrew bird performing 'weather systems'

Messenger Bag Continued

exciting times. tonight will be the first field test for my new messenger bag.

in just under 2 hours i'll be heading out to the greek theatre for an andrew bird concert, and i plan to do so with my pockets empty and my messenger bag full.

stay tuned for updates on how it performs.

Messenger Bag

earlier today i bought a small-sized messenger bag (see photo: yes that's an eagle patch. it's awesome, i know).

i already own a large(r) messenger bag (sans patch), which i use to carry my laptop around in, and as a carry on bag when i travel.

the reason for the new bag is that lately i've found i've been walking around with way too much stuff in my pockets (notepad, pen, phone, ipod, camera, glasses, sunglasses, etc.), and to be honest, it's not very comfortable.

now i suppose i could just try to cut down on the number of things in my pockets, but most of the stuff i carry i tend to use on a (semi) regular basis.

in the past i've tried to use the large(r) bag for the carrying of said items, but it has so far proved ineffective in that i end up walking around with a (more than) half empty bag that is usually more nuisance then nuisance preventing (like when i try to take it to the movies or a concert and there's no where to comfortably put it other than on my lap).

so, basically, i was left with 2 options:

1. buy a man purse aka a murse -- the problem here is that i'm pretty sure i'm not fashion forward enough to pull that look off (also, i didn't want to have to worry about a multiple murse scenario wherein i start buying murses to go with the different kinds of outfits i am wearing. e.g. an evening murse for dressier occasions vs my every day murse for the casual man).

or

2. buy the smaller sized (11" x 9.5" x 3.5" for anyone wondering) messenger bag -- which, as you already know, is the option i went with.

but this is not really a story about my new messenger bag...no, this is a story about the store where the bag was purchased (and the other people shopping there at the time). for, you see, today when i went to buy my new messenger bag i did so at the army surplus store.

for those of you who have never been, the army surplus store is a wonderful place to shop (good selection, great prices, and some of the most interesting people you're liable to come across on any given day of your life).

basically, for every one person who is shopping at the store for a small sized messenger bag to hold his geek equipment in, there's (at least) one person who is shopping at the store for survival gear for when armageddon arrives.

today i was lucky enough to encounter 2 such people.

the first, an elderly gentleman, was busy stocking up on supplies (hunting knives, rope, water purification tablets, a gas mask, a geiger counter, and a machete). but he was kind enough to take a few minutes out of his day to explain to me that the key to post apocalyptic survival (if your lucky enough to survive the initial blasts and fallout) is an ample supply of potable water and the ability to defend any "sons-of-bitches" trying to "thieve" said supply.

he recommended always having at least one large duffel bag full of weapons in your home for the latter and at least one small duffel bag full of weapons safely stashed somewhere outside of your house in case you are either a) not home when the apocalypse comes or b)forced into a situation where you must retake your house from any post-apocalyptic squatters who have taken up residence while you were hunkered down somewhere else waiting for the fallout to pass.

the second, a younger man but just as squirrelly looking, was on a quest to find the fatigues that the special forces soldiers wore in transformers 2. yes, he had photos. unfortunately, for him, they did not have any fatigues in the store that were an exact match. fortunately, for me, i did get to hear his reasoning behind the quest for these fatigues and i quote, "no, they have to be an exact match, only then will people know i am serious enough to kill a robot."

i considered offering my opinion, that he seemed serious enough to kill a robot exactly how he was dressed right then (jeans, black boots, and a camo top), but in the end i decided that it was probably for the best to just keep my mouth shut. generally speaking, i find people who want others to know they are serious enough to kill robots are people best left alone.

and so, having paid for my bag, i left. my pockets now considerably less full, but my intentions to return to the store again in the near future (even if i don't need to buy anything) greatly increased.