pick up your butts

Artist: notwithoutmycamera

Life reminds us to be a way because we're ready to be that way.

Steven taught me about honesty because he didn't care that I was sick of my bullshit life. He was more sick of this shit than I was.

Steven was a transient. He was about 5'8 with ALS. ALS is a disease that attacks the spinal chord and brain, affecting the neurons that communicate with the body. The neurons die until, eventually, signals evacuate the body completely. Steven's right leg and thigh were going when he met me. He had a cane but mostly used his shopping cart as a prop. You could tell he was a strong man in his prime because, even at fifty five, his muscles were very defined.

The first time we met he stumbled into the store begging me to help him to set up a Go Fund Me account. As soon as I got off I sat with him for a little. He smelled like alcohol. But his eyes were afraid and sad and steady. He told me he had ALS, which was basically a death sentence and the hospital couldn't afford to keep him anymore so he was on his own. He also mentioned his wife had just died of breast cancer.

He told me I reminded him of his son. He said he was a mechanic of thirty years and a honest to God hard worker.

After his account and email were set up I gave him some lunch, a coffee and then left.

I would see Steven about ten to fifteen more times over the course of several months. He got in the habit of visiting me for money or when he needed help.

He lived in the wash behind our work. He also self medicated with alcohol everyday. I drove him a few times to pick up vodka. I told him that's what I use to enjoy the most too.. I was conflicted about enabling him, but he had nothing, he would do this anyway. It's hard not to promote poison to the dying when it's all they want you to give them. I'm so poisoned myself...despite my diet...despite my work out routines... my meditation. We are too indoctrinated by the pain, we don't hear the simple suggestions. This city vibrates with that fear; that expectancy of hurt. What fills your cup with angst and gossip? Steven told me so many times he just wanted to die.

One drunk afternoon he told me his wife was still alive in the hospital with the cancer. I don't think he cared to understand the weight of that lie to me because of his perception. Priorities take different form with oblivion on the horizon. Simple, drunken lies to manipulate people for help don't matter when you draw the short straw...They'll learn but you will learn the hardest.

One of the last times I saw Steven, he was sprawled in the alley, drunk, passed out and covered in his own blood. It was later in Autumn and it was starting to get cold. I didn't know where to take him so I just stayed next to him and spoke quietly and sternly with him till he was able to form sentences. When he finally became coherent enough to respond to my questions, he told me to take him to the corner of the parking lot.

I laid him down in the dirt with a pillow and his sleeping bag.