December 2000

My Love Affair with Lunatics

I love crazy people. I always have and I always will. But before you start thinking that I am about to start divulging the deep dark secrets of my private life, think again buster. The crazy people I am talking about are the crazy people that out on the streets- not the ones I invite into my house and run an online magazine with.

I think that stark raving lunatics are essential to any healthy community. The worst communities in the world are the ones that don't have people walking the streets telling all passers-by that the government is stealing their thoughts and so forth. This is common in any quality urban environment. It is also common in our rural communities, except out there the nuts who think the government is out to get them tend to dwell on well fortified compounds instead of under bridges. Actually, these folks tend to be a bit non-beneficial, but rural communities are filled with quality "eccentrics" all the same. It's places where the insane people stay inside raising children that are useless. But this is not meant to be a bizarre and screaming indictment of the suburbs- I am just merely trying to illustrate the value of public insanity. Communities that are very open and accepting of their lunatics walking the streets seem to have a much greater vitality to them.

I don't know when I realized that open insanity was so important to the vitality of a community. It was probably after I moved to the suburbs as a child. Not much happens there. However, when I ventured back into the city I could walk around and see people bantering into space on street corners and it was fantastic. I suppose it's the urban equivalent of "keeping up with the Jones'"- we say to ourselves "I may be full of rage and ready to snap, but at least I'm not as nuts as that guy- he's got an aluminum foil helmet!" But to me it is so much more than that. While these raving lunatics do make me feel better about myself, it is because I enjoy their presence and value what their view points.

To begin, let me explain that I mean no disrespect by the term "lunatic". I am not using this word in a derogatory sense. It's merely a label applied by society. I think many stark raving mad lunatics make valid points. They should be listened to. These lunatics think in ways that we are too afraid or ashamed to. Frankly, some of these ladies and gents are quite the geniuses.

I think it was when a friend of mine returned from New York that I realized the importance of public lunatics. My friend told me a tale of a gentleman on a corner furiously hurling bananas at traffic with tremendous scorn. No explanation offered. I immediately saw the genius in this. I think it was then I realized that public insanity is vital to the health and well being of a community.

For a number of years I lived in Annapolis, MD. It is not quite a real city, but is definitely no suburb as it has an actual down town (people even live there). We had quite an assortment of people that walked the streets telling you completely unsolicited insanities. One gentleman even spent his days walking up and down on of the main streets out of town picking up trash. He was always smiling. He was obviously insane and everyone loved him.

But now I live in Washingtron, DC. This is a real city filled to the brim with real lunatics. The general citizenry very much enjoys living in the city, and I tend to think that there is a definite correlation with the pride we have in our city and the quality and quantity of lunatics we share the sidewalks with. I myself rather enjoy listening to them as I walk past, and at times consider joining them. Sometimes I would much prefer to spend my life standing on a corner barking at my shoes and telling one and all about the conspiracy of "Relay Mail" mailboxes (they are the slightly larger, green mailboxes in our cities that have no mail slot. I think that they are portals for inter-dimensional shock troops- expect an expose in the coming months). This could be so much more rewarding than making money and paying bills.

As far as specific lunatics, DC has many. Many champions. Some are legends- like the bishop of New York Avenue. This man sits under a bridge that passes over New York Ave, on the shoulder, and blesses the passing motorists by waving a branch. This man performs a tremendous public service and everyone knows it. Mr. Joshua is amazed with the consistency of this saint and speculates that he must have a tremendous amount of leave built up.

My neighborhood, and the surrounding neighborhoods, are filled with all sorts of lunatics. Some of them amateurs, while others are in a league of their own. Just the other day I crossed paths with a couple of these heroes. The first was on my way to work in the morning. I was flying up 16th Street at about 50- as is the custom- when I glanced out my window and saw a flurry of activity that really caught my eye. A slightly-older-than-middle-aged gentleman in a red hooded sweat shirt was over on the corner making quite a commotion. At first I thought he was a jogger shadow boxing while waiting for the light to change. Nope. This guy appeared to be in the fight of his life. With nobody. He was really duking it out. He appeared to be quite angry. He was sending in fierce uppercuts and powerful jabs. He was dodging the blows of his combatant. This effort was obviously tiring him. Within a few seconds of seeing this imaginary fist fight I had slowed down to about 20 and was praying for red lights. I couldn't pull over. I desperately yearned to wait until I could see who won. Alas, I could not. I cheered for the man to conquer his adversary and got back to my morning drag race, my day fully brightened by this vision.

Later that evening I was summoned by Lucky, our new guy, on an important business matter. On the way down to the bar I passed a shelter, as I often do. As I approached the block that this building was on I could hear screaming. It wasn't any words, specifically, but just anguished screaming. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!" could be heard for block in either direction. As I approached I saw a rather tough looking young woman. She was just standing there screaming, but was not in any obvious physical pain. As a man in a wheelchair passed by she looked down at him and called him a bitch. The gentleman then replied, angrily, by yelling, "I know you're not talking to me!" A fight almost ensued.

This scene deeply saddened me despite the obviously twisted humor on the surface. It was not of the same nature as the bishop of New York Avenue or the various happy odd-balls patrolling our subway. This woman was spouting pure belligerence. She had no hope in her eyes. She had no greater sense of purpose- no message to save humanity like so many of my "insane" friends on the street. She was utterly despondent and I did not envy her. She was living purely on rage and anger like so many of us "sane" people attached to our stupid jobs, possessions, and desires. She was no thingless saint.

I hope that you, the reader, does not think that I am in any way scorning the people that I am offering this bemused praise to. I really do value these people highly, as should everybody. I am at times in awe of them. The way they take it upon themselves to spend their lives blessing us and warning us of the various plots our government is involved with to control us or what have you. These people are showing the public more love most other people, and are certainly showing more love than they receive. Many of these people are true saints just for performing this miracle of caring about the souls of those who despise them so much, no matter how misguided it may be.

A kinder nation than ours would provide food and shelter for these people. Not out of pity, but as a reward.

In a more sane nation than ours, these lunatics would be unionized.