Wednesday, November 11, 2009

the road to hell is paved with etc etc

as i was walking to work today i saw two "Homeless Outreach" workers in what looked like hybrid trenchcoat/hazmat suits made of brown plastic rather forcefully accosting a [presumably homeless] guy sitting on a plant, who was making his case as vocally as they made theirs though i couldn't stop to hear much of what he was saying. the hazmat suits were particularly nauseating--what's wrong, don't want to get homeless-juice on your Laura Ashley pullover? anyway, i hope the guy got only the help he wanted. i've heard stories from many people who've gotten on the wrong end of the city's "homeless services," thanks to my time in a multitude of court-ordered Programs, & that is not a nice place to be. The "cure" is a hell of a lot worse than the "disease" in many of these cases. FOR YOUR OWN GOOD is rarely for any good at all, & even more rarely for yours.

...& then was giggling incongruously the rest of the way to work because the incident reminded me of something that happened during my first trip to Montreal alone in the summer of 2006. i was crossing through a park to meet a friend when i was stopped by two concerned-looking social workers who asked me all puppy-eyed if i had a place to sleep, enough to eat, etc. They were creepy as hell but seemed well-intentioned--at least they weren't wearing hazmat suits like these fucks over by Grand Central--and i assured them i was just a dumb kid in a park while they tried to lure me in with offers of sleeping bags & warm coffee & sandwiches which were i assume somewhere in between the warmth of the bags & the coffee. it was pretty fucking warm that day, being JULY, but i can only assume "warm" was code for "methadone-flavored."

& about a year ago something similar took place--as i was exiting the Flushing Ave J train station outside Woodhull hospital, some sort of outreach worker tried to lure me into the facility for coffee & sandwiches, assuming [was it my silver vinyl pants?] that i was some directionless junkie the train had spat out by mistake. She kept naming things they could offer me [sandwiches! coffee! do these people have no imagination?] as i scurried down the street, almost running down two idiot kids who instead of walking like normal people did their part to stare at me & tell me it wasn't Halloween. THANKS FUCKERS.

there is a moral to this story but it got lured into a big white van with promises of coffee, sandwiches, & narcotic bedtime stories. LET THIS BE A LESSON.

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