MIKE SEIFERT - 1953 - 2006....
so yeah, Crazy Mike, as he was known, was a staple of fells point, A homeless Vietnam vet, whose problems seemed to be schizophrenia mixed with a bit of turrets. It was an average day in Fells that you would pass by the Daily Grind and see that beadred psycho screaming at the top of his lungs about random bits of American culture that were so obscure, you'd think he had written it down before-hand. Indeed, above all else, Mike was an "unintentional artist"; even the most mundane BC cop, postal worker, or construction worker would relay stories of how they engaged conversation with Mike and quickly had their minds BLOWN. His way with words was one of a kind. To the simpler mind, it was psychotic banter, but a select few artists and sensualists who resided in Fells Point recognized the sheer, innocent genius of his words. He truly was the "artist-by-default", if such a thing ever exsisted. Mike would utter random crap that could send your soul searching for meaning ALL DAY if you knew how to listen. He had the answer somewhere in that mess of filthy donated, clothes, and matted dreadlocks. We hardly see ANY homeless folk like Mike in Baltimore. Substance abuse claims so much of our homeless and makes them dead inside. Mike was an actual "innocent" who was driven mad by surviving the most diabloical American war, and a horrendous life.
For the few Daily Grind workers and customers who knew him in his last few years, he was a source of both amusement and a subtle hero. He would say the things we all felt. He would scare off the prissy "yuppie" element that we all hated. He would be a reason for regular customers to come back and visit. Mike was part of an old family. Starbucks-esque fuckers would come in and ask for "grande lattes", then complain about the "weird bum yelling at people outside". We would simply say, "oh, that's just our friend Mike" and the conversation would be over. You couldn't fuck with that. Mike was a Fells Point original. Our greatest tourist attraction. The ONLY tourist attraction I would ever stand behind in this miserable city.
And so, as life throws suprises at us all, Tuesday morning Mike Seifert was found dead behind a liqor store on Broadway street. His memory will be carried the way all great people are remembered; not in the public eye, but by the COMMON people. the working men and women. I, and my friends, will ALWAYS tell stories about Mike. And that's pretty much the way he would have wanted it. Mike never asked for anything, he never expected anything. We GAVE shit to him, because deep down , he was a real human being, and that shone thru above all the yelling and cursing.
Despite whatever random shit he would say to you, his predominant question, above all else was "hey man, can you afford a ciggarette?"
Do me a favor people, smoke one for Mike.
For the few Daily Grind workers and customers who knew him in his last few years, he was a source of both amusement and a subtle hero. He would say the things we all felt. He would scare off the prissy "yuppie" element that we all hated. He would be a reason for regular customers to come back and visit. Mike was part of an old family. Starbucks-esque fuckers would come in and ask for "grande lattes", then complain about the "weird bum yelling at people outside". We would simply say, "oh, that's just our friend Mike" and the conversation would be over. You couldn't fuck with that. Mike was a Fells Point original. Our greatest tourist attraction. The ONLY tourist attraction I would ever stand behind in this miserable city.
And so, as life throws suprises at us all, Tuesday morning Mike Seifert was found dead behind a liqor store on Broadway street. His memory will be carried the way all great people are remembered; not in the public eye, but by the COMMON people. the working men and women. I, and my friends, will ALWAYS tell stories about Mike. And that's pretty much the way he would have wanted it. Mike never asked for anything, he never expected anything. We GAVE shit to him, because deep down , he was a real human being, and that shone thru above all the yelling and cursing.
Despite whatever random shit he would say to you, his predominant question, above all else was "hey man, can you afford a ciggarette?"
Do me a favor people, smoke one for Mike.