The day edges to a close, so many thoughts, so much, still, to do.
The Wharf was again beautiful today. It sometimes takes a lot to get out there, but the second I stand up in the milk crate all of my challenges dissapear, and all is beautiful. People smile, laugh… children stare in wide-eyed wonder, and then absolutely beam when I catch their eyes in mine when their parents aren’t looking, give a wink and a subtle smile, then go back to character. For that brief second, we share a little secret. For that brief second as we look into each others eyes, they are the most important thing in my world, and I think that they know it. I think they know they always have been, and always will be. I always hope that they will keep it with them…
I’vs started working with something different than what I’ve been doing, incorporating mechanical movememts (not robot – more old-school gear driven motions) into the action after they tip. It seems to be working out very well, and a few times over the past days I’ve had groups of 30 or more people just standing there watching me. I dig making them happy.
Tales from the Wharf
A homeless man, pushing his shopping cart with his belongings and sign asking for change, stopped and watched me for a few minutes, then dug into his pockets and gave me fifty cents, his sad, worn and weathered face turning into the most exquisite rotten-toothed smile as I caught his eye and tipped my hat to him, locking him in for a few seconds and saying the most heartfelt and most sincere “thank you” I could possibly give while not saying a word. Yeah, he exists too, and as blind as most people must be to him, it was something so incredibly special to be able to just let him know how appreciated he is…
Finding myself fighting back tears as a few people watched me, tipped, then said “You’re so *good*!” Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I only wish I could tell you how much I appreciate that when you say it.
I usually don’t get so emotional, (who the fuck am I kidding?) but hell – I’ve been feeling kinda raw lately, and just that little bit of making someone else happy means worlds to me.
While on break, a couple coming up to me and asking – “Hey, didn’t we see you in New Orleans?” Yeah, you did – and gods, how I love that. Thank you for remembering, thank you for noticing, and thank you for asking. Thank you for bringing me back to that beautiful city, even briefly, in my mind. I still have part of my heart there, and it will stay.
Finding it somewhat beautiful and assuring when a man passed by with his woman companion, slowed down and reached for his wallet. As he was getting some money, the woman was telling him not to – but still, he placed two dollars in my box. This, after just yesterday getting in a “heated discussion” with A about me giving two dollars to a homeless guy down the street. She was pissed that I gave the money away when I should be saving for a place. My view is more along the lines of “If I gots, you gots.” Two damn dollars. She doesn’t get the way things work, it seems -I mean, fuck – my entire job depends on the kindness of others. If I don’t return the energy and gratitude, well then – nothing will work right. Nothing.
The most absolutely darling old lady (around late 70’s, early 80’s?) shuffles quickly up to me, tips, then whispers in a somewhat gravely-old voice “You’re so *cute*! I want to take you home, but my boyfriend is right over there…” (turns and points to an old man, laughing, looking at us while leaning on his cane) “But – you’re so CUTE! Next time I come, I’ll try to be alone!”
That’s an abriviated version – but man, she was the most darling woman, still full of fire and adventure and humor and, you could tell, still so absolutely in love with her “boyfriend”.
I love my job.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In other news:
I need a place to stay, suprise, suprise. Four nights a week, which were usually supposed to be spent in my van – but my van is gone. Impounded. Connie has brought me from New Orleans to Burning Man, and from there to San Francisco. He’s been a trooper, and he has been my somewhat uncomfortaboe home – but alas, the City has claimed him. Though A has been insanely generous in letting me call the very small condo she has my temporary hat-hangin’ place, things are changing. I need to give her her space back. We’ve talked, and she is still more than generous, as I sleep here thursday through sunday, the days i work the Wharf.
If anyone has anything to offer – a couch, a floor, an attic, cellar or really big aquarium – anything for those four days a week, I would really appreciate it – to say it lightly. Soon, I intend on having a home… Which brings me to…
A… has suggested that I have a benefit – for me.
While this doesn’t sit too easily with me and feels horrribly self-serving, I would much rather take action and make things happen than stand and watch them fall apart as I crumble. I don’t dig the crumbleness – it just ain’t me. I told her that, if this happened, it would need to be her that actually has the headlining name, who actually puts it on…
But yeah – there just may be a benefit for me coming up, a benefit that will hopefully wrangle a bit o’ cash to help me get together the scratch I need to get a place. A HOME.
Things need to happen, and they *are* happening – but in the meantime (And dayum, it IS mean!) I could use a hell of a lot of help.
It seems, to me, like that is all I ever do. I don’t think I’m too far from the truth. Over the years, I’ve asked for a lot. Bowed my head in shame, and asked. Asked for your help – and my eyes have filled with tears many times in your generosity, more than even my closest friends could ever know. I can never thank any of you enough…
But here I am, asking again – because you know what? I’m going to change the world – whether it is in life, or death – it really doesn’t matter at this point. Whatever works.
Whatever works for you.