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HOBOSEXUAL.
[AVAILABLE SINCE: 13 MAY, 2002]
I fear my kindnesses toward the local indigents in my neighborhood
have come back to haunt me. Last week, as I emerged from the subway,
I was literally embraced by Artsy Kyle, who grinned wonderfully
and shouted "cuzzin!!" While I am sure it impressed
the friend who was accompanying me, I also knew it meant the bartering
of cash for services rendered. (for the record, i have no problem
giving kyle money whenever possible, no matter what he might use
it for. his smile and energy are intense. it's like paying the
sun to shine directly on you for one fleeting moment. how much
is that worth?)
Then, today, I ran into Tax in front of his old beat on Berkeley
and 7th Avenue. He had been MIA for almost a full year and immediately
recognized me. Between noisome bites of his falafel sandwich he
explained that he'd been down South but "things didn't work
out". (this statement was sort of unnecessary because, unless
he was handing out cash to pay back all the people who'd ever
donated to his cause, just standing in this same familiar panhandling
spot speaks volumes about the success of his southern adventures.)
We spoke of South Carolina, and of the virtues of eating pig,
and just before I was able to squirm away (another local was trying
to give Tax an invitation to her art opening.) he hit me up for
a donation. I felt like playing hard to get so I told him I'd
have to hook him up next time around.
My coy scheme actually had a second purpose. I have stared to
fear there is a rumor circulating in the panhandling community
regarding my almost flawless generosity. (i qualified that statement
with "almost" because I can assure you that bricky
don't get no love from me.) I am worried that the Hobo Gazette,
a well-read newsletter for NYC's transient community, might have
done me a great disservice when they interviewed me for their
"society" pages and declared, in the headline accompanying
my interview, "HG Talks to New York's Richest Jew".
(i in all fairness, i might have been slightly misleading when
i told the interviewer, HG's own roscoe hunsucker, that i was
"the richest jew in new york." do you see how he twisted
my words up?) Ever since then the local tramps have been a bit
too accommodating.
My suspicions were confirmed this evening, right after my encounter
with Tax. While I was fiddling with my key ring at my building,
I saw a strange glyph crudely stenciled to the brick face of my
apartment complex. Inspecting it closely, I noticed it was a small
caricature of ME, not unlike the one greeting you at this site.
I raced upstairs, connected to the World Wide Internet, and browsed
straight to the Online Hobo Dictionary. (thank heavens I had it
bookmarked) And there in new additions, right beneath symbols
meant to represent "will pay you to have your organs harvested"
and "cheap sushi here", was that identical todd-shaped
illustration. Its definition? "wealthy loner who constantly
seeks validation through acts of charity and reported interactions
with society's forgotten men and women lives here." Those
are some shrewd hobos, indeed.
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