Freak Out

I always know I've arrived before the paramedics because I'm going right towards it.

"Racing witht he rising tide to my Father's door."

Frank Sinatra-Stemmerman and the worst pool game ever.

Thats a mouth, a shirt sleeve and an ear.

For those of you who dont live in the QC and who aren't on your way here this is Larry. I always think Larry Majors would be this real mans real name, but he is legendary without such definable attributes. Here you may know him as Chilly Willy Billy. A phrase and a name in one, Chilly as he's also known, will gruffel in his sea captain's wafer a call as you roll by at once announcing his own presence and encouraging yours. "Chilly Willy Billy!" You may know him by another name. You may call him Freak. Per his request thats how he asked I know him the first 40 or so times I've met him. The other night I called him Larry when I asked him if I could make this photo. It was a human to human transfer in the most basic of senses. As I crested the hill of one of our Uptown streets being operated on by municipal bonds and human hands I saw Freaks tattered figure standing lean in the wind of construction. Standing holding the two fingers of his hand as a message while many sleep. In a downtown project people were confused and and ignoring the Elephant in the Ghost. I to was seeing it but I operate where confusion in order to undo it for myself.

Many people wonder if Freaks dead. It comes up every three weeks or so as a rumor around coffee shops and the Phat Burrito and Lucky Cycles and maybe among the management of every business on East Blvd. that Freaks dead on the slab in the mourge and we all wonder if theres a Potter's Feild or someplace where this mans bones and fur would be put if it were the case that he actually stopped pumping blood through his existing in the streets. He has stated that he would only "pawn" a house if he were given one. Theres been talk about how 75 people a month could use five dollars collectively to rent this man a room. Dreams of and for anothers existence in a world where I can only try to be my own. BE. Freak will stand as high as BoA's tallest tower in Car-Lot and BoA's highest towers will erect themselves only to the last fluffy hair on this grizzled man's mop.

It was windy when the photo was taken and I couldn't help but think about the warmth in it when Larry said he was cold, or that it was cold. It wasn't to me, but then again, I haven't been out there since the mid-70's. I bet it is cold, and tiring. It seems like its a matter of disappointment getting you down v. being something that you can enjoy for what it is because it is making you who you are and are going to become.

I have heard Larry play the guitar, three chord jungga's that reek of prison blues before he even begins singing the lyrics, "These walls and bars are driving me crazy." I remember the eve of 2006 sitting outside in a circle of friends and people collectively chiming in and singing the words to his ditty. Folklore. One hit wonder. One hit wander. One hit.

Larry is one of many of many. The way the top two percent of the top two percent have the bling, the many of the many have the experience of calling the streets home. I am always blown away by this man and do not fear for his or any others death transfer.

Who will teach the children?

We all will.

And who will the children become?

Us all.

Who will be students?

They will also recognize you.