It is one of the many ironies of my life that I earn a living connecting things — systems, people, ideas, money, resources — when I am so shockingly bad at connecting with them myself. I can, and do, connect words and ideas, but I find it increasingly difficult to connect with people. Perhaps it’s inevitable that as your sense of self both erodes and crystallises (in the sense that it is ever clearer how un-important the individual is.…) that seeing others as yourself becomes more difficult.
Ptcha. That isn’t what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about people. Three people today: as I was walking in to town today I was approached by a man with a small child riding on his shoulders and another in tow. They were a bit dishevelled, but were laughing and joking — echoing, albeit through a class lens, the family from yesterday on the train. This changed, however, when the man approached me for money. He was begging, with his (presumably) children in tow. I was furious, but lacked the wit or grace to deal with this situation effectively. I declined, and was mocked for being so rude — which is becoming something of a ritual when I am approached by beggars.
So, I was swimming with the feelie-fishes again. I admired the cynicism and chutzpah — to talk to me he’d had to cut across a family. The children were happy — possibly too small to understand what was going on. Anger, at him, myself and various other liberal guilt institutions. Sad. Betrayed by systems I believe in and support (political and charitiy). Frustrated with John Bird, for making me believe him and his Big Issue ideals (which are essentially vindicating capitalism and seemingly part of the long march to the right, politically, I appear to be making). Professionally annoyed that the various comebacks I could have made (but would not have the bottle for) didn’t come to me until it was too late — and why was I caring anyway?
So. To cut a long story short. BEANS. Shit happens. Shut up. Move on.
