Need $ For Weed
"Let's go talk to the bum," Antti suggested, pointing to a bearded man on the opposite sidewalk who held a cardboard sign that read Need $ For Weed. I wondered if I should explain to Antti that the word "bum" had a strongly judgmental connotation, or if I had just been living in California for too long. We were on Haight Street at his request. He wanted to see the legendary hippie culture he'd heard so much about.
"I like your sign," Antti said to the man as we approached. "How long have you been living here?"
"Since sixty-seven," the man said. "It's a lot different now. It's really sad. It's become all corporate. Look at all the stores. Even Ben and Jerry's is corporate."
"What do you do?" Antti asked.
"I live here," the man replied. "I'm here everyday."
"Everyday since sixty-seven?" Antti asked, a bit dissatisfied.
"Sure," the man chuckled. "I'm trying to make some money to pay for my medical marijuana. See, I have this knee injury and the doctor gave me a medical marijuana card so I can use it for the pain. That's why I smoke weed."
"I can get you a card if you want," the man said, lowering his voice. "I have a hookup."
"No, thanks," I said, thinking what a great story it would make for Antti's article if the guy actually could score me a card. It would be all the stereotypes and cliches of San Francisco come alive for the readers of Finland.
"So you don't work?" Antti asked. Leave it to the directness of journalists.
"See, I don't follow society's rules," the man said. "Society's always telling you how to live your life. I choose to live by my own rules."
It sounded familiar. It was what I thought about on a daily basis, but this guy had taken it to an extreme. I've rejected the notion that buckling down with a mortgage and a traditional steady job is the only proper way to earn a living; this guy had rejected the notion that having a consistent housing structure to return to each night, and earning as opposed to begging for money, are the only proper ways to live.
People are not so different from each other. We confront the same rules of society, but the truly courageous are the ones who find paths so different and unacceptable, yet who still manage not to wander off their chosen trail and back onto the main road where the rest of us are.
Theoretically I admire the backwoods bush wanderers. In reality, the guy on Haight Street smelled homeless, and I assumed that he probably had a massive drinking problem topped off by encroaching mental illness. When he said that he doesn't follow society's rules, it resonated with me, though. We fall on a continuum of non-conformity, and each person finds the spot where they feel most comfortable.
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Paths and roads and trails and continuums. The usual hackneyed metaphors for human life. Why linear? Is it possible to break with our temporal conceptualization of life? Is this crap actually coming out of my mouth?
"I like your sign," Antti said to the man as we approached. "How long have you been living here?"
"Since sixty-seven," the man said. "It's a lot different now. It's really sad. It's become all corporate. Look at all the stores. Even Ben and Jerry's is corporate."
"What do you do?" Antti asked.
"I live here," the man replied. "I'm here everyday."
"Everyday since sixty-seven?" Antti asked, a bit dissatisfied.
"Sure," the man chuckled. "I'm trying to make some money to pay for my medical marijuana. See, I have this knee injury and the doctor gave me a medical marijuana card so I can use it for the pain. That's why I smoke weed."
"I can get you a card if you want," the man said, lowering his voice. "I have a hookup."
"No, thanks," I said, thinking what a great story it would make for Antti's article if the guy actually could score me a card. It would be all the stereotypes and cliches of San Francisco come alive for the readers of Finland.
"So you don't work?" Antti asked. Leave it to the directness of journalists.
"See, I don't follow society's rules," the man said. "Society's always telling you how to live your life. I choose to live by my own rules."
It sounded familiar. It was what I thought about on a daily basis, but this guy had taken it to an extreme. I've rejected the notion that buckling down with a mortgage and a traditional steady job is the only proper way to earn a living; this guy had rejected the notion that having a consistent housing structure to return to each night, and earning as opposed to begging for money, are the only proper ways to live.
People are not so different from each other. We confront the same rules of society, but the truly courageous are the ones who find paths so different and unacceptable, yet who still manage not to wander off their chosen trail and back onto the main road where the rest of us are.
Theoretically I admire the backwoods bush wanderers. In reality, the guy on Haight Street smelled homeless, and I assumed that he probably had a massive drinking problem topped off by encroaching mental illness. When he said that he doesn't follow society's rules, it resonated with me, though. We fall on a continuum of non-conformity, and each person finds the spot where they feel most comfortable.
---------
Paths and roads and trails and continuums. The usual hackneyed metaphors for human life. Why linear? Is it possible to break with our temporal conceptualization of life? Is this crap actually coming out of my mouth?
posted by Justina at 12:11 AM
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