Vagabum
Reading this article about a student who lived in his college library for seven months reminded me of an article I read a few years ago about the Houston homeless. One of these was a man who lost his job and apartment, yet managed to keep these facts a secret from his family and girlfriend for nearly a year. He slept in his car, took showers at the municipal tennis court facility, and carried on as though everything was status quo.
I often go to various Houston area libraries to write or research and invariably I find several homeless people there reading, surfing the Internet or otherwise using the computers. While I think it’s a noble use of our libraries, I have to admit wishing that libraries insisted on a little soap and shower as a requirement for the homeless to use the facilities. Such odorous moments usually result in a change of plans where I’m off looking for another library or quiet bookstore to visit.
I’ve often thought that being homeless could actually stimulate one’s writing, given the maximum freedom of time allowed in that transient state. There are several blogs written by homeless folk, with The Homeless Guy probably the best known. When I go on a retreat to write, my productivity soars without the day-to-day responsibilities that are otherwise distractions. Or is it that I’m in unfamiliar surroundings without constant reminders of tasks undone? I think it’s a combination of both, but the net result is that I produce more words when I’m away from home. Now the big question is would this still ring true if I was not only away from home but in fact had no home? I’m not offering to test this theory, just posing the idea that being homeless might be compatible with the writing life. The proliferation of places where wifi or Internet access is readily available just might make it possible to be a Vagabum: a nomadic writer with only the clothes on your back and a laptop in your knapsack.
5 Responses to “Vagabum”
Two quick thoughts. At Northeastern, the library had so many homeless folks visiting, they now card everyone who goes inside: if you don’t have a student ID (or if you aren’t accompanied by a student) you can’t get in. I wonder if public libraries will eventually go this way, too…?
Second, in Buddhism “the homeless life” is a synonym for the spiritual path: monks typically left home to wander as spiritual mendicants. So there’s a verse somewhere that states that one of the greatest virtues is to encourage someone to seek the homeless life…
Lastly (okay, I have three points: shoot me!), I love the term “vagabum.” I just might have to steal that for my Lit of the Open Road class…
There’s an enormous difference between vacating a home to be temporarily homeless in order to free your mind of clutter and not having a home to vacate in the first place. Being homeless is not only about the physical location it’s also about an internal sense of being “home”. I don’t think the not knowing where I will sleep tonight equates with having no responsibilities and hassles – perhaps it’s the juxtaposition of the reality of homeless with the conceptual idea that riled me up a bit about your post today!!
Close to home
These days I haven’t had much time for walking, so I’ve been hunkering down close to home. All this week I’ve spent most of my days on campus, inside, so I cherish that handful of moments in the morning…
Close to home
These days I haven’t had much time for walking, so I’ve been hunkering down close to home. All this week I’ve spent most of my days on campus, inside, so I cherish that handful of moments in the morning…
I remember reading an article a while back about a homeless woman who had enough money to purchase a gym membership. She would sleep in the gym locker room. When told to leave, she would fiercely argue she could stay because of the membership.
What a dilemna. The article didn’t state how the issue was resolved but I suspect the gym revoked her membership.