EVASION – anonymous (crimethinc.)

1. Poverty is a mathematical equation, an expression of how much one can buy. (p.1)

2. Late night mob action advances on the thrift store donation bin, long bike rides through the industrial ghetto, shopping cart races, and competitions to see just how many times we could make the “Police Blotter” column of the local paper. We left behind the other kids, their path – working, drinking, and being grown-up – and rejected all that made them grumpy, uncreative, and lifeless. We dumpstered, squatted, and shoplifted our lives back. Everything fell into place when we decided our lives were to be lived. Life serves the risk taker… (p.2)

3. They said not working would never work. I mean, you have to eat right? We ate…we ate what they threw away, whatever we could fit in a basket and walk out with. Ironic that as perceived “struggling” and “starving” kids, we maybe gave away more than we ate. What does a vegan do with fifty packages of Chips Ahoy anyway? And why did Walgreens throw them all away? We began to think maybe they were on our side. Until the manager flew out the back door, shaking his fist, demanding to know why we were in the dumpster. We explained our positions as  “free-lance excess reduction engineers engaging in the reallocation of surplus.” He told us to get a job. We reflected on past dives in that very dumpster – the functioning CD player, nutritional supplements, photo department discards with scandalous pictures of former high school classmates… A job? “Well if you didn’t make unemployment so easy…” (p.3)

4. Our philosophies evolved – from general dislike of work, to the feeling of exploitation, then seeing the American way of life for what it is and turning our backs to it. (p.3)

5. They said, “You can’t live this way forever.” Some of us agreed, and secretly planned to leave youth behind one day. Others thought – “We’re good now, in ten years we’ll be pro, in twenty we’ll conquer the world!” Some hoped not. They wished people wouldn’t throw so much away – food, books, whole buildings. That one day the means of production would be returned to the people so we wouldn’t need their food, or their houses. They made the mess, may as well dance in it. Some of us shrugged and said, “Why not?” Others found the implication odd that they could live their way forever – working and drinking and watching TV – and why they would want to. (p.4)

6. All names appear as they are to expose the guilty. (p.6)

7. I still didn’t believe in god, but evidence was mounting to suggest the presence of a Hobo God – an eternally filthy and drunk celestial guardian who saved punks from train crashes, left doors unlocked at critical moments, and made rational people throw everything imaginable into dumpsters. (p.14)

8. By 6 a.m. I had listened to every tape I had, eaten many bagels, and felt threatened a few times by crazy old hoboes prowling and pacing the yard, but, no trains. Exhausted, dehydrated… Then another storm broke! The wind angled the rain in my direction. Life was plainly trying to provoke a fight, but I was having too much fun to notice, and as the rain poured, I was still totally convinced this was the most exciting life had ever been. (p.14)

9. As hitchhikers, we play the role of actor, ego stroker, counselor, etc. There are the small town secrets, scandalous confessions, tears even. The rides where I am outside myself thinking life couldn’t get any crazier, or more real, or more dangerous. (p.14)

10. Hardin was great, having a hotel with waterslides, and at the IGA I dumpstered a whole bag of cherry pies! Meanwhile, shoppers were inside the store paying for food. What were they thinking?! I sat on the on-ramp and ate an entire cherry pie, while shocked passersby recoiled in disgust. There was still a whole bag of pies left, and I left them organized in a neat stack for the next hitchhiker… (p.20)

11. sfg


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