#35: Diogenes on Main Street.
Looking for an honest "man."
One evening, more than fifty years ago, while under the influence of a drug (that shall not be named), I was wandering around my college campus when I saw a strange orange glow coming from under a bush. I suspected it was a day-glow whiffle ball, or perhaps something an alien had dropped while trying to figure out what humans considered higher education.
Looking closer, I saw it was a little plastic jack-o-lantern, the kind that kids use to collect candy on Halloween. I picked it up by its black strap and began holding it up like a lantern in front of my face as if I were lighting up the face of my fellow students as I approached them on my walk. I felt as if I’d tapped or, rather, tumbled, into some ancient mythic entity. My classmates found it quizzical. So did I. But many things were quizzical back then, especially when under the influence of the drug that shall not be named.
Although I didn’t know it until the next day, I had temporarily become the embodiment of Diogenes the Cynic, a real live fourth-century BC contrarian philosopher for whom conventional wisdom was the height of idiocy, and what passed for common sense was complete nonsense. He was known for walking around with a lantern in broad daylight “looking for an honest man.”
Truth is a rare commodity on the street.
My friend Kenny (who’s really mad at me…but that’s for another time) says you know addicts are lying when they open their mouths. Of course the same is often true of Kenny, although he traffics more in pot, rumor, and innuendo.
But, contrary to conventional wisdom, the stories I hear on the street often have little to do with drugs. My friends use words not to describe reality but to improve their own. (The comparison with political speech is obvious, although the latter is more odious.)
I’ve had people tell me that so-and-so uses dope because they think it’ll make it more likely that I’ll give them money instead. Later, someone else will tell me that person is using my money for dope. And so on.
I’ve had people try to tug on my heartstrings and wallet by saying they spent the night shivering on the sidewalk, only to have someone else laugh and say, no way…they spent the night crashing in an abandoned apartment with me.
I’ve had other people ask for gas money to get to a supervised visit with a kid in DCF custody only to find out they don’t have any kids.
Sometimes even the truth is too good to be true. There were two different guys whom I’d seen limping for a few days. Trench foot, someone told me. From not having dry socks. One evening I ran into both on the same corner and asked them what the deal was. They explained there was some ointment or other at the pharmacy that would help, and they promised to go to the drop-in center the next day to wash their feet well and get dry socks. The next day I asked them separately if they’d been able to get what they needed. One said he had but that the other guy had used it for dope. The other guy said the pharmacy had closed, so he got some food with my $5 but the other guy used it for dope.
And don’t get me started on broken promises. Actually I did get started in the post Cash Is King.
But there is at least one honest person on the street.
Oddly, it’s Bruce, whom we first met walking across the street to buy dope with money I’d given him for Suboxone—a story I told in No Expectations #1 No Expectations #2.
I like to think that one reason he started going back to the methadone clinic is that he was so ashamed I’d caught him. Regardless, he’s never lied to me since. OK, fine, I can’t prove it. But he’s told me a lot of things that virtually no one else I know downtown, especially addicts, would tell me.
“Hey Bruce, how you doing getting to the clinic [for your methadone]?
“Pretty good.
“You slip up much?”
“Just missed last Saturday. So I had to make it ‘til Monday.”
“How did you get by?”
“I took a sniff or two.”
“Can’t you get methadone on the street, instead of dope?”
“Yeah, but it’s more expensive.”
A few weeks later, he caught me one morning on my way to get coffee. He asked if I could give him a ride to the clinic. I laughed and said,
“Hey, Bruce, it’s only 7:30, you got plenty of time to walk.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Yeah, but what? You sprain your ankle or something?”
“No, I’m just feeling lazy.”
And finally, there was his masterpiece of Diogenes-worthy wisdom:
“Hey, Dave, could I have $10?”
“What do you need $10 for?”
“I was late for the clinic this morning. I need some pot to get through the day.”
“Bruce, are you crazy? No way a joint costs you $10. Hell, I could probably get one free on the street.”
“Yeah, but I need two.”
One time Diogenes was asked why he begged in front of a statue.
He said so he could get used to being refused.