December, 2020
Ask yourself how many times have you ignored the person on the street asking for money even though you know you have a five in your pocket. On particularly selfish days my mind wanders to any excuse for my deservingness of the change I hold. Whether it be that I’m a university student who has bar tabs to pay, or if my money would be better spent being put into stocks, so that one day I’ll have enough disposable income to offer to people on the street. Whatever I land on, whatever gives me the satisfaction of knowing that the money I hold is happier in my own wallet may be considered a white lie I tell myself so I can move on in tranquility. Money I am not so easily willing to part with; my attention, however, is rather promiscuous. When I find someone so confident in their words, I might as well be chained to the floor. I imagine that just as I hold a desire to listen, there are many who hold an equally strong desire to be heard.
The man on this street corner in Nashville, Tennessee is in love with himself. He is the bravest man in the world and he is proud of his accomplishments. In his mind he is the slickest, most clever man to ever sit on that corner. The hazy-eyed grin on his face says that his life is exactly how he expected it would be and he would prefer it no other way. A day spent meditating on the energy of the city is what makes him content. His only worry is what he will eat. Imagine that! A single motive, one truth that carries this man from day to day and all for it he must do is adopt a few little tricks here and there.
I didn’t know where I was, but I wasn't lost. I knew that I was coming from The Gulch, the most intensely gentrified district of the city, riddled with spin classes, boutiques, and gourmet coffee. And I knew that I was headed towards downtown because the skyline is rather easy to interpret. I approached this man on the corner of the on ramp of whichever highway takes people from The Gulch to their suburban homes. A prime place to be, in my opinion, if you're going to hope for a few donations from passersby. The man didn’t ask me for money, however, he was involved in a conversation with a young soldier, fully clad in camouflage.
“you can’t cross straight to that side of the street, It’s under construction. You’ll have to take a left, then a right if you wanna get to where you goin’,” said the man on the street. He was an expert on matters regarding this intersection.
“Which way you headed?” the young soldier asked me. I pointed to the left, the direction the man on the street suggested.
“Ya see, if you fake a heart attack they’ll run you in an ambulance all the way to Vanderbilt’s hospital where they’ll feed you for three days!” I turned back to see the man nodding his head with a raised eyebrow, as if he knew he had said the most interesting thing I ever heard.
“You can do that, huh?” I asked.
“HAHAHAA!” he belched. “And guess what! If you pretend to be suicidal you can stay for a whole week.”
“Who’s payin’ for that?” I asked, just trying to get him to keep talking.
“I’m homeless. Not me! Then they’ll shred the bill ‘cus I aint got nothin for ‘em, but the law says the hospital has to do somethin’ with me, alright.”
He had captured an inefficiency within our great and mighty country. One Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Of course it might be simpler to give this man a home and food to eat, but instead he is permitted to equip a legal loophole that essentially says ‘just don’t let them die’. For some, like the man on the corner, this is enough. He loves his country for all it has given him.
The young soldier also loves his country. We walked together across the street to the left.
“Man, I’ve been in training so long I'm startin’ to get a trigger happy. To be honest I just wanna get deployed and start shooting the place up.” He said with a juvenile confidence. (This really happened. Some of this story is exaggerated or altered, but this is real. He really said this.) My first thought was to refer back to the book I was reading, The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut. In the book there is an army of mind-controlled people stationed on Mars who complete a suicide mission in order to fulfil a universal prophecy. The soldier I met that day hadn’t been implanted with a supreme shock collar like those in the story, but I suppose he might as well have been. The best fighters are the ones that can’t critique. A man on a ski lift once said to me ‘that’s why young men are the best soldiers. Anyone a few years older would question everything the officer says’.
“Do they school you in the military?” I asked. “Do they teach you about politics and ethics?”
“Well, no. But I know for certain that if I felt uncomfortable with something, the captain would understand,” he said. We both knew this was a lie, or at the very least, rarely applicable considering he was so thrilled on homicide. He was a soldier and he loved being a soldier. He wanted nothing else but to wield an M4 carbine and spray down other young men in turbans under the gold Saharan sun. Then he would finally be fulfilled. He turned into a Whole Foods to “do some work” before seeing his brother who lived in the city.
If something happens, I want to see. This is the dogma of public spaces. The cafe that serves a shit latte for $6 isn’t actually selling you a latte. They sell you the hope that your life won’t be so miserable as compared to grinding your beans at home. If I sit and read in my chair at home, the chance of something grabbing my attention is zero. But at the cafe I can sit and flirt with the idea of some sweet brunette walking in and asking about my book. The chances are non-zero and that’s all I need. It’s a mental game that the lonely extrovert plays in the age of social distancing.
Nashville fulfills this role of public spaces perfectly because everyone is an actor. Not in the sense that they are pretending to be someone else, but because everyone is exactly who they want to be. The dreamer only has to buy a guitar, learn a few scales, learn a few country tunes, and BAM, he's a rockstar playing at an empty bar on Broadway. He doesn’t care that it’s empty and the few spectators don’t either because they’re at an exclusive performance with Nashville’s hottest new country ensemble. Everyone is happy.
Those who say that ignorance is bliss haven’t been to Nashville. For in fact it's conviction that’s bliss.
~ No offense to those of you from Nashville. I’m full of shit anyways. ~