Frustrated panhandler

We have it too easy. This $$ cash $$ this money, this sin and this ease. The ease is the worst part, the cash and the the way we can buy what we need, this fucks it all up. I saw a bum today, a panhandler. He had a sign, it announced that he needed $179 to get to Eloy, AZ. Eloy is his home, and he stood alongside a road asking for the $$ to help him get home, to Eloy. He could stand aside another road, a 10 minute walk from where he stood, and ask for a ride instead, a ride south or west, towards Eloy. Similarly, I am a bum, a panhandler. I have a sign, and I ask for $$ cash $$ that I need to get to where I am going. Except I know better; I don't need the cash. Maybe, the cash is a prize, proving that I win; I want to win every day, and the only way to win a day is to end up with the biggest pile of money. Of course I know that's not true; I don't want to have a pile of money, especially one that "proves" that I won the day. Instead, I want to enjoy something harder than it usually gets enjoyed; the whiskey helps with this. Money doesn't provide me with tingles, but the Avetts and radical face and Puffy Combs and Reason for Madness do. Neighbors and nightime, bmx and 4130 do, the open and empty road do. Lil Wayne and his wisdom. Popular music and unpopular music do more than any amount of $$ cash money and the sin and the ease. The ease never did shit for me. This shit has to stop, this confusing place between ======= and &&&&&&&&&. I sit here and I feel what it feels like to die. To have infinitely less than I had a minute ago; to have lost that minute because I wasted it worrying about something that did not matter. I wrote two aphorisms the other day as I cycled up a hill. I had thirteen miles and a sunny and cool day to work with. This incredible fortune, and I come up with some bullshit that does not matter. The last time that I had a story that mattered, I am sure it was because of the trouble I was in.