And Then the Stars Blew Out
Pity for those that are in the unfortunate position that they have no home to go to. Many live in situations where they truly have nowhere to go except a curb with a newspaper, but some have homes elewhere, to some extent. Welfare isn't being abused, it's just being REAL fuckin' generous. Here's a prologue to a case study that eventually depresses me somewhat:
Dave approached me one day while I was smoking a bitchstick on top of Rideau mall, waiting for several lovely people to show up. Dave began to talk to me out of nowhere and asked my opinions of the city Ottawa. I told him about how I had come here out of my free will, but that being here had definitely changed my life to the extent that I did not want to leave.
"It feels dead here," Dave said as he stretched his arm out to display Rideau Street below us.
"I think it's just the environment, the structures,” I said in a solemn reply.
“Ehn?” Dave said.
I went on to explain to Dave that environments can alter how a person feels. He said he knew that, so I asked him if he knew what Feng Shui was. He said no.
“Feng Shui,” I began, trying to sound as wise as possible, “is the rearrangement of surroundings to control the flow of chi. Now, imagine that chi is this life force that flows through the air and in all of us like a river. When you have square structures like the buildings around us, the water can’t flow properly. The walls need to be curved. Ever been to the Museum of Civilization?”
“Nope,” Dave said.
“You should go. You’ll find that simply standing in that building gives you an uplifted feeling. Because of the curved walls, the chi can flow more easily throughout the building.”
Dave didn’t say anything. I felt like I was hogging the oxygen and asked him to speak.
Dave told me about how he had come from Newfoundland to Ottawa, for the reason that he thought it would offer more opportunities. In all due respect to Ottawa, he felt screwed over. He had found no job and was living off of welfare. He panhandled for money. He said that his situation was futile and that there was no point living in a place like Ottawa. I told him that he just needed to keep searching, and that there were loads of outlets in Ottawa for employment. He shook his head. I shook his hand and said that it was inspiring to meet him. My friends had arrived, so it was time to leave.
This was a few weeks ago.
I had found myself on Bank Street not too long ago, looking for companionship on a rainy Saturday afternoon. No one was out, so I went walking up and down the street, eventually purchasing a cheap submarine sandwich at Subway for $2.99. After I ate, I saw Dave standing around at the boarded up area next to the Silver Snail comic book shop. I stopped by and lit a cigarette and asked him about his current situation.
This time around, Dave was really frustrated. Ottawa seemed to be shoving more crap in his face; no job yet, the cops were suspicious of his panhandling on Bank Street and constantly observed his activities, and his situation with money was getting tight.
Obviously, Dave was having trouble living in a world where he had to spend spend spend to make a living. He did not enjoy getting food from churches, nor did enjoy the landlord at his apartment. Dave told me that he was seriously considering leaving Ottawa for Newfoundland. I asked him about his financial situations and he told me about how Welfare had given him enough to rent a small apartment out, but he said it still wasn’t enough. The thing that got to me was when I asked him about food, as food is one of the essentials. He told me he needed $200 for food.
“Well, Dave, that sounds like a lot. Maybe you should cut back,” I said.
“Can’t cut back,” Dave said, “I eat too much.”
“What about buying cheaper food?”
“The food costs too much here.”
“Some people have to live off the same thing every day, Dave, and they still get by. Why not eat something cheaper, like rice? A bag could feed you for a few weeks.”
“I don’t like rice.”
I don’t know. I couldn’t really take it anymore. I sincerely wanted to help the man, but I couldn’t stop imagining him eating all of the food in my house if I had invited him over, nor I could I stop thinking that if I brought him food, he would pick around what was there for preferences.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: Given the situation where you have nothing else left except for money to barely get by, would you lower your standards to live comfortably?
Apparently, no one can touch my face.
Dave approached me one day while I was smoking a bitchstick on top of Rideau mall, waiting for several lovely people to show up. Dave began to talk to me out of nowhere and asked my opinions of the city Ottawa. I told him about how I had come here out of my free will, but that being here had definitely changed my life to the extent that I did not want to leave.
"It feels dead here," Dave said as he stretched his arm out to display Rideau Street below us.
"I think it's just the environment, the structures,” I said in a solemn reply.
“Ehn?” Dave said.
I went on to explain to Dave that environments can alter how a person feels. He said he knew that, so I asked him if he knew what Feng Shui was. He said no.
“Feng Shui,” I began, trying to sound as wise as possible, “is the rearrangement of surroundings to control the flow of chi. Now, imagine that chi is this life force that flows through the air and in all of us like a river. When you have square structures like the buildings around us, the water can’t flow properly. The walls need to be curved. Ever been to the Museum of Civilization?”
“Nope,” Dave said.
“You should go. You’ll find that simply standing in that building gives you an uplifted feeling. Because of the curved walls, the chi can flow more easily throughout the building.”
Dave didn’t say anything. I felt like I was hogging the oxygen and asked him to speak.
Dave told me about how he had come from Newfoundland to Ottawa, for the reason that he thought it would offer more opportunities. In all due respect to Ottawa, he felt screwed over. He had found no job and was living off of welfare. He panhandled for money. He said that his situation was futile and that there was no point living in a place like Ottawa. I told him that he just needed to keep searching, and that there were loads of outlets in Ottawa for employment. He shook his head. I shook his hand and said that it was inspiring to meet him. My friends had arrived, so it was time to leave.
This was a few weeks ago.
I had found myself on Bank Street not too long ago, looking for companionship on a rainy Saturday afternoon. No one was out, so I went walking up and down the street, eventually purchasing a cheap submarine sandwich at Subway for $2.99. After I ate, I saw Dave standing around at the boarded up area next to the Silver Snail comic book shop. I stopped by and lit a cigarette and asked him about his current situation.
This time around, Dave was really frustrated. Ottawa seemed to be shoving more crap in his face; no job yet, the cops were suspicious of his panhandling on Bank Street and constantly observed his activities, and his situation with money was getting tight.
Obviously, Dave was having trouble living in a world where he had to spend spend spend to make a living. He did not enjoy getting food from churches, nor did enjoy the landlord at his apartment. Dave told me that he was seriously considering leaving Ottawa for Newfoundland. I asked him about his financial situations and he told me about how Welfare had given him enough to rent a small apartment out, but he said it still wasn’t enough. The thing that got to me was when I asked him about food, as food is one of the essentials. He told me he needed $200 for food.
“Well, Dave, that sounds like a lot. Maybe you should cut back,” I said.
“Can’t cut back,” Dave said, “I eat too much.”
“What about buying cheaper food?”
“The food costs too much here.”
“Some people have to live off the same thing every day, Dave, and they still get by. Why not eat something cheaper, like rice? A bag could feed you for a few weeks.”
“I don’t like rice.”
I don’t know. I couldn’t really take it anymore. I sincerely wanted to help the man, but I couldn’t stop imagining him eating all of the food in my house if I had invited him over, nor I could I stop thinking that if I brought him food, he would pick around what was there for preferences.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: Given the situation where you have nothing else left except for money to barely get by, would you lower your standards to live comfortably?
Apparently, no one can touch my face.