It is a matter all to its own, the act of starving one' self out of protest to all that is wrong. Could it be that society has twisted itself up in a knot that is unable to be undone, but to burn the knot, start over again, is that the answer? Yes I have taken the path into a life both regarded as low and unethical, of a modern day beggar caught on the stoop of a local coffee shop minding his own business and writing the day's activities. A tumultuous and creative life, filled to the brim with pain yet constant epiphany. What if I were to tell you that becoming homeless could instantly flip off the micro chips implanted in everyone's brain and delve them back to the last century. Most of all there won't be the walls that hold in heat or rain, no regular place to call your own; would the night hold you or let you rest peacefully?

Now a days it is a crime to be homeless, but historically, the issue has been in uproar. Vagabonds were known as unlicensed beggars. In 1381 AD a law was passed that gave authorities the right to find evidence to determine whether they were a vagabond, if they couldn't provide the evidence then they were jailed, and in the 1495 statute they were held for three days and three nights. In the 1500's they were whipped. In colonial America they told people who didn't come to work to leave, and in this could arrest them otherwise. But does anyone have time to acknowledge or that is give, or care? The medieval fairy tale was that beggars curse those who insulted a beggar or refused to give enough. They'd go door to door for bread and water.

Now that I am in fact not a bum anymore, not that the term ever truly fit me, it is actually a paradox in that most of the time I spent walking long distances, never has a bum the luxury to sit on the couch all day to watch TV, there are laws for loitering, one must always be transient outside, have you ever noticed that there aren't too many places left one can go to just attend without a justification of a permit or pass, and not worry about something closing for the night, or trespassing? After five months of being homeless It no longer was something I consider therapeutic, yes I was writing my book that took six months of living to write, but every time something crazy would happen it'd serve as the next chapter, and it kept going until I went insane. To truly be sensitive to little things everywhere as people move without the slightest mind, that is one thing about living outside, there exists a spirituality that develops in simple awareness to the earth, it shows up in conversation, music, art, writing, but also it can be a true handicap when the greed of another hems you in and slowly leaves you without the options of being human.

There are crazies out there, another thing is putting up with those energies, on top of yuppies, in between there is little space to move, from vehicular war zones; public places get to be off limits, where does one go? There are eighty thousand homeless people in L.A.; that is Chicago's and NYC's population combined, it is quite obvious that the climate is the sole contributor to this factor. But for a city that brings in millions of dollars internationally from cinema, they have a disgraceful sense of humanitarian value, a city on its last leg and every man for violence, or that is every gang. Somehow we have gotten twisted around; maybe we should then start all over again. My recommendation is to start a community with your friends that serves as a means to live as bohemians. Bohemianism is of French origins, but as an English word used in the nineteenth century it regards to one living an unconventional life style in Europe among like minded people through art, music, and literary pursuit and takes on an anti establishment point of view, and often indigent and poor. You get the best of both worlds as a bohemian. Take in mind, we have to find away to not be codependent on the indoor world, and all its illusions.