Hello everyone, how are you? This is Homeless Dave. Because of my storytelling abilities I was invited to illustrate a little bit about being homeless in Chicago. Unfortunately I have no money-making abilities. I am such an unsuccessful fuck up that I have developed a career of talking about how fucked up I am. It’s wonderful. I’m becoming very well known and yet I’m managing to maintain a continual state of poverty. This has so many advantages. Unfortunately, I haven’t discovered any of them. But, nowadays, when somebody says, “What the hell’s the matter with you?” I can say go to this or that website and read my stories. In some of the stories I tell I use the term “bum”. In American English, a “bum” is a down-and-out person – generally a homeless person. But in British English, a “bum” is a posterior. So, I just want you to know I’m not telling a dirty story when I talk about bums. If I came over there would you tell me the story about the little Dutch boy who put his finger in the dyke? If you know some English you are probably laughing, and if you only know Dutch you might be trying to figure out what the fuck I’m talking about. I don’t know much about your country but what I know about Holland I like very much: the architecture, the painters, and the way you put sausage in the pea soup. I hear it is legal to commit suicide in Holland. Have you ever done it? Just kidding; that’s one of my American jokes. Could you get me a place to sleep in an abandoned windmill? Just put some herring under the door and I promise not to let anyone know I live there.

I think most people have a good feeling about your country. Unfortunately, America is becoming very unpopular so I’m looking for another country to move to. If you have any suggestions please let me know. Most intelligent people in America would like to move somewhere else so America will soon be populated by people who have never lived here before. There will only be a few very rich people and then the peasants. It will be a feudal system with modern technology. Do I sound like Nostrodamas? No? Oh, I guess I sound like some crazy homeless guy? How dare you say that! I’m leaving!

When I heard about the newspaper Z, this question occurred to me: How is it to live in Holland as a homeless person compared to Chicago? I wonder, what is the best place to live in the world if you are homeless? Do you think I would do well in Holland? How do the police treat the homeless in Holland? Do they harass you? Can you sleep in the park without being attacked? What are the biggest hazards to your physical survival?

I ask these questions because for me in Chicago, getting food is a fairly easy thing. The difficult part of existence is staying alive and staying out of harm’s way from violent crazy people on the street, and from police officers who have nothing to do but hassle homeless people. Because of this, I try to look as non-homeless as possible. This is very easy.

Most Americans are extremely superficial in how they judge someone. All I need to do is to put a necktie on. Then, the general public and the police assume that I am a normal financially secure member of society. In America if you were a chimpanzee and wore a necktie, you could sit at the bar at the Hilton hotel and they would gladly serve you a martini with a banana in it.

I call dressing up like someone with a job, being a “jobvestite.” Do you know how some people feel more relaxed when they momentarily dress up like someone of the other sex. Well a “jobvestite” is someone with no job who likes to relax by impersonating the working people in society. I just sometimes get the urge to ride the commuter train with all the people going to their jobs downtown. I feel like I’m part of something big and important. Then I get off the train and quietly slip into the coffee house where I surreptitiously obtain a cup of coffee with an empty cup that I have pulled out of the trash. Having a reasonable expectation of a good life is currently not a realistic expectation for me, but obtaining good coffee is a realistic expectation and I can do this every day. It’s a small goal but it’s one I can attain.

How do the homeless in Holland entertain themselves when they are not looking for shelter or asking for spare change? When I’m not drawing pictures or sleeping, I enjoy feeding the birds. In Chicago you get a $500.00 fine if you feed the pigeons. So when the police say “Are you feeding the pigeons?” I say “No, I’m feeding the buffalo and the damn pigeons keep eating the food!” I tell the pigeons to shit on all the rich people. The police might call this ‘inciting an aerial bombardment’ and it could be considered an act of terrorism under the Bush government. Soon all foreign pigeons entering the U.S. will be feather-printed and those wearing a burka will endure a background check.
I got a bill last week for $500.00 from the city of Chicago. This is because I did not show up at a legal court date – I received a ticket for sleeping on the train. The police cannot catch criminals, but they are very good at catching people who sleep because it’s not much of a challenge. If sleeping costs $500.00, I wonder, what is the fine for farting? Am I being disgusting? Before I was homeless I used to be very polite. I would never say such things.

I heard you lost your monarch recently and I wonder how things are going now in your royal household. I think it’s beautiful to have a royal family who is actually royal. In America we elect somebody every four years who begins to think he is royal. Hopefully soon after you read this we have somebody beside King George in the White House. That has nothing to do with being homeless but I just want you to know if I come over there that I don’t agree with U.S. Foreign policy, and perhaps that knowledge might help me get a date.

You and I speak different languages but we both feel the same when we are hungry and when we are cold. With the internet, I think it would be a good idea if all homeless people got together like a bunch of ants and just crawled all over the place – physically and electronically. We could act like high tech vandals, but instead of being destructive, we could have a lot of fun. We could all keep sending Spam messages demanding clean socks and sleeping bags. If we put some of the spare change we collected into a fund, we could rent an airplane and go from country to country and say “We need some gas for our airplane, could you spare a couple dollars for gas, food, and booze so we can get to the next country?” They’d give it to us just to get us to leave and go somewhere else. Do any of you know how to fly a plane (and do you know how to land?)?

I would strongly suggest that you disregard anything I have said so far in my message because being homeless, I am obviously completely insane (but not insane enough to get a government check dammit!). I invite you to email me. I promise not to ask you for cigarettes because I don’t smoke. It would be very nice to hear from you, no matter whom you are – but please, no religious fanatics. Have a happy day. I hope I have provided you with a few laughs, and don’t drink too much Heineken!

Dave Whitman
davedirtysox@yahoo.com

This is my friend Louie. He’s 77 years old and he was homeless until five years ago when he got his pension. Every month when he receives his government check he goes directly to the horse races, where he gambles. He loses almost every dollar in a single afternoon. He’s 99% deaf. He has no teeth. He has a difficult time breathing. Other than that, he’s in great shape. He thinks he can stay alive forever by refusing to see a doctor. When he is not gambling, he travels all over town going to free lunches and dinners. I’ve told Louie “When you die, not one of the horses you’ve bet on will be at your funeral.”

This is Gabby and Herman. Gabby is not her real name. In English slang, to “Gab” means to talk constantly. So people call her “Gabby”. Gabby and Herman are the perfect couple. In addition to hating each other, they need each other. She needs a ride in his car, and he needs her to cash his Government check because he is mentally ill. Herman lives in his car and his entire life consists of going to free charity lunches all over town. His hobby is to eat food at the weddings and funerals of people he has never met. He keeps a tuxedo in the trunk of his car in case it is a formal affair. He will proudly tell you that in 1972, at a political fundraiser, he was able to steal seven steaks. This is the highlight of his life. He talks about it constantly. Other people have stories of being in wars or the women they have made love too. Herman talks about his stolen steaks.

This is a drawing of Gabby and Herman arguing at a lunch held by a charitable organization. In real life, Herman’s stomach is twice as large as it is in this drawing, but I only had a small amount of paper to work with.