There was no one to help. There was no one to kick in the face. I've confused feelings about the homeless . Ronald Reagan said there are no homeless people in America - it's a choice. Our leaders must know, I don't. I'm just a witness. I don't understand the world. I see and feel. After that, it's confusion for me. I saw the pink blanket camp of this guy at Graham Ave station in Brooklyn.I recognized the blanket. My child was wrapped in one like it long ago. Then, I saw the book. All I could read was “Modern.” Wasn't about to touch the guy's stuff to read the full title. I'm crazy, not homeless crazy – been close. I do see myself in homeless people. Also at times, I imagine them as old friends. That's when I want to leave a dollar or give a slice of pizza. I also see people I hate. That's when I'd like to kick them in the face while they sleep or at least piss on their blanket. Thinking that way, makes it easier to walk by, do nothing. None of my business, they are probably fuckers. Incidentally, it's a bad idea to kick a homeless person. They can take it and will likely mop you up. Not because they are veterans – many are. Not because they are on drugs – many are – when they can get it. They can take it because they got tortured as children in the possible ways a sensitive soul can be bounced around. Having had their souls twisted they go out of their minds. Don't test them. I'm sure of this. I know a homeless guy, he'll charge you $20 for a free and open kick in the balls. He doesn't flinch. Being kind is a an option, suffering isn't. Everyone suffers. It always confuses me – good guys suffering too much, bad guys not suffering enough. I don't know how to care the right way – haven't that level of compassion, intelligence or grace. I see more than I want. I hate it, the homeless remind me I'm not the good person I'd like to be. I don't know. I don't know. Too man, way too many. I did figure out the book in the photo, Straight Male Modern: A Cultural Critique of Psychoanalysis by John Brenkman – interesting.