been homeless almost constantly for the past 10 years, seven of which on purpose. I have recently become homeless again, having left my place to stay behind in favor of the streets, my natural habitat. I'm currently in Ohio but as soon as I'm able I have every intention of leaving this shithole, although I'm not yet certain of where I'll be heading. It's between Seattle, Portland, Tacoma, Kensington PA, Manhattan, Detroit, the bay area of California, Riverside CA, San Diego, Slab City, Pasadena CA (unlikely, as Ive been there a few times already and I want new places not old), and eventually Vancouver Canada (the famous Hastings and Main area). I have a strange obsession and aesthetic love for urban blight and slums, the more extreme the level of decay the better. I love buildings with graffiti, broken windows, crumbling facades, and a reputation for seediness and sleaze. I find it beautiful to see a neighborhood or a house ravaged by neglect and decay...plants sprouting through cracks in the concrete, angry scrawls of spraypaint, grey skies and an aura of danger and hopelessness, haunted by an energy of bleak despair. Not just abandoned and reclaimed by nature, but a crumbling, gloomy wasteland, places where people go to live out their darkest moments and stare into the abyss. After busting out the windows, cutting holes in fences, or ripping free the boards of wood nailing shut a structure, the damned souls move in and make their home within the skeletons of long-forgotten buildings, scribbling on the walls, cloistered behind a shield of peeling paint, glass crunching under dirty shoes, cockroaches and rats zigzagging across dusty floorboards, a curtain nailed over the hole that used to be a window, creaking stairs leading to gloomy rooms with filthy mattresses, a fragment of mirror, needles and cookers and lighters arranged with care, and in the corner, thin legs under torn jeans stretch forward and dirty fingernails loosely grip a burning cigarette, smoke softly rising in the beams of sunlight piercing tatters in curtains. Cracked lips curve into sardonic smiles, dilated pupils glaze pensively at nothing in particular, greasy hair disheveled, an arm welcomes the sweet warmth of a wake-up shot....the friend and lover that never judges you, never leaves you, never lets you down or considers you unworthy of love and happiness... a loyal companion who walks by your side in a cruel and uncaring world.
Some people find such places to be symbols of a city's failure, ugly and destined to be reduced to rubble, swept up and replaced with new, expensive condos that remind the poor and unfortunate that they do not belong, that they are unwelcome and unsightly, dogshit on a manicured lawn. I hate the sight of expensive houses; they try their hardest to appear perfect, exclusive, completely without blemish. They try to be something above and beyond the mundane, like rich kids with the perfect hair, clothes, cars...better than everyone else. But a building with graffiti, boarded or broken windows, and overgrown yards, collapsed roofs and chipping paint...that's a building that's not afraid to be itself. To be unafraid to show it's scars and imperfections, to boldly proclaim, "I don't try to be perfect, I am comfortable in my skin and don't give a fuck whether you like it or not!" These buildings are accepting of anyone who chooses to call it home, to admire it's unique beauty without judgement or expectations.
This is why I feel most comfortable and happy in slums, abandoned houses, homeless camps, and empty streets that most people try their best to avoid...I find them truly beautiful and take great pleasure in wandering through abandoned buildings, tent cities, and "bad" neighborhoods, inhabited only by the kind of people I can relate to and connect with. Trash is treasure, and blight is beauty. Not everyone will understand my feelings on this subject, but to those who do, I'm happy to have given you a feeling of understanding.
-$eymour $parechange
Some people find such places to be symbols of a city's failure, ugly and destined to be reduced to rubble, swept up and replaced with new, expensive condos that remind the poor and unfortunate that they do not belong, that they are unwelcome and unsightly, dogshit on a manicured lawn. I hate the sight of expensive houses; they try their hardest to appear perfect, exclusive, completely without blemish. They try to be something above and beyond the mundane, like rich kids with the perfect hair, clothes, cars...better than everyone else. But a building with graffiti, boarded or broken windows, and overgrown yards, collapsed roofs and chipping paint...that's a building that's not afraid to be itself. To be unafraid to show it's scars and imperfections, to boldly proclaim, "I don't try to be perfect, I am comfortable in my skin and don't give a fuck whether you like it or not!" These buildings are accepting of anyone who chooses to call it home, to admire it's unique beauty without judgement or expectations.
This is why I feel most comfortable and happy in slums, abandoned houses, homeless camps, and empty streets that most people try their best to avoid...I find them truly beautiful and take great pleasure in wandering through abandoned buildings, tent cities, and "bad" neighborhoods, inhabited only by the kind of people I can relate to and connect with. Trash is treasure, and blight is beauty. Not everyone will understand my feelings on this subject, but to those who do, I'm happy to have given you a feeling of understanding.
-$eymour $parechange
