Urban Rain Doesn't Wash Away The Pain

"Life goin' nowhere, somebody help me
"Somebody help me, yeah"

I was 21, working as a breakfast cook/dishwasher in small town Texas. I lived in a room of a house of a disturbed Vietnam vet (a fellow cook). The room's window was broken, it was winter and the house had no running water. Nothing much for me to do even then but walk the streets.





Nowhere to go but up so you head to the big city six hours away. I felt like I was traveling to another planet, a place so exotic anything could happen. I didn't expect to find anything here for me, though. Money is the only universal language and I'm a mute.



There are many worlds inside the city. I am a voyeur, a visitor, an interloper, a pretender, a dilettante, a sneak, a shadow, a wanderer but most of all anonymous. I'll be who you want me to be: rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. You'll see me but never meet me. You'll walk away thinking yourself clever for having "seen through" me. But all I gave was a mirror for you to look into, to write your own story.







It's hopeless but somehow you still believe Sanctuary exists, a place where the milk of human kindness trumps the ways of a lost world. You feel it in the air, frustrated bodies searching for hope, knowing there's a better way but never finding it. There are many false gods ready to fill the void. But you find they only lead you into a dark hole with a snicker and a smile. The "haves" are just as lost as the "have-nots" - yet each secretly believes the other holds the key.













In the end you find the handshake and invitation is a lie. Trust in a society is like water is to a boat: without it we sink. In the street it's the most precious of all commodities. Con artists know you ache for the reservoir of rest trust brings and they poke you at every turn looking for a chink in your armor. You find a quick spot, use it and move on. Rest is the holy grail - and if only you'll step into this dark alley with me you can buy it in a baggie.

A spot that can only be truly appreciated by its smell

Life slips away day by day. We go through our daily rituals because that's what gets us by. But really, it's all about avoiding the now, of not thinking of our final destination, of forgetting the love that could have rescued us and dreams drained away into the gutter. Rain symbolizes renewal but the urban rain doesn't wash away the pain.

Against the wind
I'm still runnin' against the wind
I'm older now but still running
Against the wind

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