Monday, August 3, 2009

There is an endless supply of white men. There has always been a limited number of human beings.

I was driving back from the beach along Lincoln, trying to get to the 90 East freeway, when I saw him in the parking lot of a 7 Eleven. It was the hair I noticed first. It was shockingly blond, Renaissance painting blond, smiling cherub from on high blond and the mop of it popped out of the otherwise drab backdrop of a Southern California strip mall. He had the piercing blue eyes of the same angel-parting-the-clouds Michelangelo image and that's when I realized something was very, very wrong. He was quite clearly mad. Mad as in one hand was clenched in the way a child makes a gun while the other hand buzzed around his mop of shinning blond hair and across his lips every few seconds. He was disheveled in the way that the insane often are and filthy. He had a few days growth of beard on him and about twenty or thirty pounds over the legal limit for a cadaver. To say he was gaunt would be an insult to the gaunt. As I sat at the stoplight, exhausted from surfing and pleasantly stuffed with a carne asada quesadilla, he walked in a small agitated and seemingly random pattern. He never managed to make it out of the parking lot while I was at the light but as I drove away I sincerely hoped he would. I hoped he'd make it out of the parking lot and into the arms of a psychiatrist who'd put him somewhere where he could get his meds and a bath.

What really got me thinking was this: was this beautiful boy the poster child for getting people to finally fund mental health care? Crazy blacks and Latinos don't seem to make people care too much. Maybe a whole host of crazy, filthy, and psychotic white kids would motivate the powers that be to finally take care of the weakest amongst us. In LA we didn't officially have a gang problem until a woman was shot in Westwood, near UCLA. Odd isn't it? The poor are left to fend for themselves unless their problems begin to affect the monied classes.

God speed, crazy white boy, God speed.

Peace out, bitches!

2 comments:

CreoleBeBop said...

Amin!

Written with verve. You made me see it. Do not put down your quill.

Pops

captain chaos said...

Thanks, Pops. It was just another in a long line of odd SoCal red light moments. They're like drawn out snap shots, if you know what I mean.