Even if I knew how to apply filters to my pics I couldn’t do this one much justice. Plus, a real photographer would have not depicted the garbage and recycling barrels cementing my amateur status. I walked by it and turned around because the view struck me. On the weekends I can start my treks a little later and extend them out a bit as well. I’m enjoying the last hints of false warm fall and the crazy concentration of my homeless friends.
What I mean by the crazy concentration is if you are a street person that chooses to be outside during a Minnesota winter you are truly nuts. The folks with any sense head south in some way or they work a program in the winter that provides meals, a bed, and most importantly heat. The trouble with the programs is they all make you conform to some sort of rules and there in lies the trouble for the hopelessly addicted or truly mentally bent.
I spoke with one of my friends whose name is Antoine and his exact quote to me this morning was “Fuck the Man and his bullshit prayer food!” asking for understanding I found out that a lot of the shelters are religious based and require prayer at various times depending on denomination. I told him that everything has a price but he let me know that was one he was not willing to pay. He is a supporting member of the Church of Crack and I know this because he once gave me ten minutes on the meth heads ruining everything… I don’t care where you land on the social stratification, people who don’t think like you are wrong.
I should also mention that Antoine also loves smoking in bed which had resulted in more than one burning bed brush with death. Those are my words. When he tells the story it is more eloquently stated as “next thing you know - SHITS ON FIRE” I hope I don’t see him on my route once it turns lunar but that will be a coin flip I’m afraid.
I am seeing a lot of different things now that the leaves have mostly left. Once of which is this scary fucker located in a seemingly random field.
It’s supposed to be Henry Wadsworth Longfellow but I have no idea why he’s wearing a sheet or how his hands got chopped off. The placement is really weird but I guess it makes as much sense as the nearby 2/3 replica of his house… Why the need for a replica when the real one still stands in Cambridge Massachusetts and also who decided to shrink the fucker? Big pile of weird but at some point someone gave a shit.
Still a sizable house that sits on its own little park where I haven’t seen a single visitor all summer. I’m sure some rich Longfellow fan thought he was building a shrine to the greatest poet of all time and for all I know he might have been. Rich people are their own kind of screwed up. I could help Antoine break in but he’d inadvertently burn that thing to the ground in no time and then we’d just have that creepy ass statue.