Applegater., December 01, 2012, Page 18, Image 18

18 Winter 2012 Applegater
Depression we’re in. I don’t believe for a
second that it ended a few years ago like the
talking heads (that was a great band) like
to tell us. Are we becoming a third-world
country? Because that’s what it feels like
with so many beggars standing on street
corners. It seems to me that all of these
homeless souls add up to an army’s worth
of people, of which many are war veterans
from Vietnam, Desert Storm, Kosovo,
Afghanistan and Iraq. Is Iran next?
There are lots of unemployed folks
“Oh, and he’s funny, too.”
going
back to school in hopes of not
The girls tried to drag us (you bet,
drag us) into the Ruby Sky through the becoming one of the homeless. Since we
exit door. The bouncer, whose wrists have become a country where outsourcing
were bigger than my thighs, said, “I don’t our jobs overseas is the preferred business
model, maybe even a college degree won’t
think so.”
keep one from living on
When he checked
the streets.
everyone’s hand for a
On we soldiered
re-entry stamp, secret
to the Sugar Club. It’s
tattoo, handshake,
way after hours when
whatever it was, Eric
No, what I’ve
we arrive, but there’s a
and I didn’t have it.
seen
is
real.
mob of happy people
The girls, each
out front.
There were
hanging on Eric’s arms,
On e g u y g r a b s
pleaded: “Please, he just
seven
dwarfs
Eric’s graduation cap
graduated.”
and throws it up in the
in wheelchairs
The bouncer said,
air saying, “I never got
“I can see his gown—
staring at me.
to do that.” A beautiful
good job, bro. I still
angel caught the cap
can’t let them in. Besides
and placed it back on
it’s closing time in there.”
Eric’s head with a nice
As we walked on
kiss. Then everyone
past Ruby Sky, we ran
congratulated him with
into a homeless man
hugs
and,
of
course,
more kisses.
wearing a haggard A’s baseball cap, a couple
As we were leaving the scene in
of frayed plaid shirts, and newer pants that
were a little too long in the legs, with duct front of the Sugar Club, two of the most
tape to hold the sole onto one of his shoes. exquisite-looking girls, who must have
Our new best friend was happy about Eric’s modeled for Ebony magazine, came up to
graduation and wondered if we might help Eric and asked him, “Do you want an all-
a guy out and drop a few coins into the night party with both of us? Just $200.”
I pointed out that the night’s long
16-ounce Coke cup he held up.
“You know we’d love to be able to gone; the sun will be up soon. Ignoring
help you out, but if old Eric here doesn’t me, one of the girls said to Eric, “We must
have a job by, say, tomorrow, he’ll be living be more than you can handle.”
Without skipping a beat, Eric said,
down here with you.”
Our new best friend said, “That’s a “Are you saying that because I’m white?”
“No, no,” she said.
tough one. I look for work all the time—
Eric’s response: “You are, you are
there ain’t no jobs.”
He told Eric if he wound up down saying that because I’m white.” The crowd,
here on the streets to look him up and many of whom could have been in the
he’d teach him the ropes. Adding, “Yeah, famous Star Wars: Episode 1 spaceport
baby, even if you wind up here, you got cantina scene, was standing around us
listening to the whole conversation; quite
that piece of paper.”
That got me to wondering how a few of them were laughing or sporting
many of these homeless people we’ve big grins.
“I didn’t mean anything by that.
been stepping over and around have
Really.
Congratulations on your
college pedigrees. Every month when
graduation.”
the newscaster announces unemployment
Then they both vanished into the
figures, I’d like to hear the homeless
numbers, too. I’m thinking it might be crowd of club-hoppers.
Day 3. I feel like I just climbed into
growing faster than that “no inflation”
bed as I’m getting up and longing for a
they’re always telling us about.
After several blocks of traveling with shot of quadruple espresso. Eric is still
our new best friend, during which we sacked out. I could call room service, but
talked life on the streets, jobs all going to by the time they got here, I could have
China, and the best malt liquors, he bids been down at the restaurant. I ride the
us farewell when a cutie pie walked past us elevator five floors down to the main lobby.
and asked if we wanted to spend a hundred When the doors open, I’m thinking, did I
walk into the Hotel California? You know,
dollars for a good time.
All along the way there were homeless the Eagle’s song. There’s a line something
people sleeping in doorways, lined up like “There’s no leavin’.” Maybe someone
along the grimy, stained, trash-strewn slipped something in my drink last night
sidewalks in their unwashed bedrolls. I’ve and it’s just hitting me. I close my eyes
never seen so many homeless people and and open them. No, what I’ve seen is real.
empty storefronts. You can tell a lot of There were seven dwarfs in wheelchairs
these homeless folks have mental problems staring at me. Wasn’t there a movie called
when you hear them talking to imaginary “Snow White and…” No, they weren’t in
people. Wasn’t there some California wheelchairs. Did one of them really say
governor—who looked like he belonged to me, “You look like you need a ‘hair of
in a wax museum and later became our the dog.’ Care to join us in the lounge?”
president—who helped balance the
California state budget by emptying
mental hospitals? It appears that that is
still going on.
I wonder how many other homeless
people are there because of the new Great
TALL TALES FROM THE EDITOR
Graduation gown
or
SF party
The following is an excerpt from the
short story titled “Graduation gown or
SF party” about flying to the Bay Area for
Applegate student Eric Rissler’s graduation
from the Academy of Art University in San
Francisco. The excerpt begins late in the
evening after graduation ceremonies when
Eric and J.D. are celebrating an epic night
in San Francisco, the land of the strange
and oh so much fun. To enjoy the beginning
of this adventure, read it online at www.
applegater.org.
I could hear the music pulsating out of
a club named Ruby Sky as we approached
it. The line to get in must have been over
a block long, not to mention all the people
just hanging out front. I couldn’t believe
some of the girls there weren’t frozen stiff—
whoever said the micro-miniskirt would
never return. Thank god they were wrong
on that prediction.
As we walked past the wall of people
waiting to get into the club, Eric was
collecting kisses, high fives and “right-
ons”—apparently, his graduation gown
was quite the draw.
An armload of girls went gaga over
Eric and his gown, practically climbing
into his arms. One girl is giving him her
phone number by programming it into his
cell phone, only to find out that high tech
was down (dead battery) and no one had
a low-tech pencil.
Two of the girls walked over to me.
One said, “Hey, I know you, you’re that
guy, right?”
“Which guy’s that?” I said.
“You know, that guy. Come on,
what’s your band called?”
“Well, there was Papier Maché,
Shaliko…”
“See, we knew it. You are very
famous, yes?”
I just responded with, “Maybe ten
feet either side of my mailbox.”
With that, the girls giggled and said,
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Contact:
Sally Buttshaw
541-646-8418
sallybuttshaw@
ymail.com
Merry
Christmas
and
Happy New Year
from the Editor