#33 Just a vain post
trying to make sense of the increasing desperation of my youth-clinging
On Sunday nights I and a dozen or so other folks meet in Skid Row in DTLA as part of an organization called Feed The Streets (FTSLA) to serve food and distribute clothes and supplies and hygiene products to the unhoused residents. It’s one of the joys, if not the joy, of my week, and I don’t leave without having some unbelievably wonderful or unbelievably awful story to report (such as this: two weeks ago Kanye West’s team showed up in a peach Sprinter van passing out what looked like very necessary clothing to very impoverished, mostly Black folks that ended up being White Lives Matter shirts which was about as cruel and fucked and vile as it gets (here’s the donation link to FTS). The whole thing is a love fest and the very essence of humanity and of course it’s run by AA people and it’s where I feel most alive and most human.
Anyway this week my story to report falls into the self-interest category, and goes something like this: I was standing next to a woman I thought of as close …