What follows is an actual entry from a Freegan, originally posted on the HuffingtonPost site. It's all his words, My translations (if you can call my snarky, mean, rude comments that) are in red. I had a few conversations with the guy via email because I was hoping to understand what he was about and why he lived the way he did. While I find some of his methods and ideas admirable, I can't seem to shake the feeling that deep down, he is just a guy with little motivation and no intention of being a productive member of society at large.
Don't get me wrong, this is just me writing for fun, Not many people read this...I think I have one consistent reader (Hi, Jill!) but at the same time it does touch on how I feel. Some would say I make fun of him because I am jealous. Well, I'll admit that I am jealous of anyone who has as much free time as he does but I think that's only natural. When you work a full job, commute, tend to a family and your own needs, you always feel like you want more time. However, his lifestyle consists of living off of waste and yes, obviously reducing his footprint, but it is inherently unhealthy, can be dangerous and in the end will cost more than he saves. When he is 65 years old and has no savings, is in poor health, has no health care, no social security but still needs to be able to survive, how will he do that? I think we all know the answer.
He will be almost completely dependent on social services one way or another, those services come from taxes paid by me and you and everyone else who has even a minor involvement in the social contract. We pay more in taxes, more for healthcare and more for insurance so that the system can support those who contribute nothing but take just the same.
One more comment, he constantly talks about how he is an artist and how he is contributing to the world and affecting people's lives positively but all I've seen is this guy who annoys people on the subway with his average faux-hippie performing who then complains on his blog that he can't make much money busking.
But it's not even close to a fair trade.
If I go to a concert and spend $60, I expect to get to see one of my favorite bands perform for 2 hours. Thats the trade, something for something. This isn't a donation. If that trade doesn't occur, then you are simply begging for money and that is what bums do. He should get rid of the guitar, make a sign that says "Please Help" and I'll bet he ends up with more money at the end of that day. But of course he wants to be seen (and wants others to see him) as a good productive person... "I'm an artist and I'm performing an intangible but important part in society"...
No you're not.
Let the nastiness begin…
Monday, July 18
9am: I roll out of bed finally. Must be nice. I observe Monday as Sabbath - a day of rest, thanks, and realignment. A holy day. So I don't have any work on the agenda. An agenda?. I do, however, have plenty planned for the day!
10am: Breakfast. Raisin bagel with peanut butter and jelly. At least I think it's a raisin…since I don't believe in killing bugs, there are plenty of roaches climbing over everything in this filthy apartment.
10:30am: I prepare a veggie stock with portobello, cucumber, broccoli stalk, parsnip, garlic. I imagine that would taste like a steaming bowl of taint. Also, am I the only one who wants to know where the rest of the broccoli went? I head over to the credit union while the stock simmers to deposit my earnings from busking the past couple weeks. Ill bet it all fit into a handful of coin wrappers. I love banking at my credit union in, as they are especially concerned about community development in my neighborhood. Sure they are… in that they couldnt care less about you unless you give them your money.
1pm: Corn, tomato, potato are added to the stock for a soup that will last me at least 4 or 5 meals. I rescued all the aforementioned veggies last week on a trash tour near Columbia University. And by rescued, I mean that I dug into a steaming metal dumpster full of rancid food, cat shit and hobo urine, a dented metal trashcan that hasn't been washed in 4 years all while watching a pair of rats fornicate on top of a pizza box.
1:30pm: I catch up on last week's news with Jon Stewart's Daily Show, scarfing down my delicious freegan soup for lunch. I wonder if he is aware the the Daily Show is a parody and one shouldn't get their actual news from it?
2pm: I'm headed to a rock-climbing gym where I climb for free in exchange for weekly volunteer shifts. I make a stop on the way at the Union Square greenmarket where I'm dropping off a heavy wet bag full of last week's compost (food waste and organic garbage). Man, I'm sure the people on the subway loved that. But always remember, if you are doing something good, its ok to make everyone around you uncomfortable.
6pm: I plan to meet and pray with friends, but I fall asleep on the train as I make my way back home and miss my transfer. Yet another example of what happens when your diet consists solely of vegetables you find in the trash.
9pm: Dinner. Homemade bagel pizzas with fresh mozzarella. I wash dishes while they bake, a chore so important to me that I've started a blog about it! Because if it's one thing the world needs, it's another trivial part of someone's life broadcast for all to see. Next week Im going to start a blog about clipping my toenails because it's a chore that has become so important to me…also if I didnt do it, I wouldn't be able to fit my feet into my sneakers. My roommate complains about ants in the apartment, killing them mercilessly. I vouch for their right to life, citing their workmanship and sense of community. He's not buying it.
12:20am: I've stayed up later than I should and for no good reason. Turn in.
Tuesday, July 19
8:10am: Breakfast. I'm down to my last bagel. Thankfully I have a trash tour scheduled for tonight. A trash "tour", isn't that sweet? I guess it sounds better than "rooting through urban detritus".
8:30am: Begin recording new song. I'm going to call it "Washing Dishes makes me feel like a productive member of society". My studio is apparently an ant-infested workspace in one corner of the dining room. I lower all the windows now this sounds impressive to me, this guy must be amazing if he can lower windows, I wonder if he could move the whole building a few feet to the left, that would also be something else and close the doors to keep it totally quiet. And also to stop the other filthy squatters that live in the building using funds that hard working New Yorkers pay in taxes from calling the cops on me again. With the summer heat outside, this room is an oven.
6:23pm: Feeling very behind on my work shouldn't work be in quotes? but also exhausted from recording all day in this hot and musty office I thought it was the dining room, let me go back a paragraph and check…yep..dining room space. Don't feel like going anywhere or doing anything. That makes sense, I don't imagine eating garbage allows you the energy to do most things.
7:10pm: Checking e-mail. A huge response, 14 emails, but 11 of them are for offers to give me a bigger penis. The other 2 are from people asking why I don't just kill myself and become fertilizer for something more productive, like a turnip plant.
9:55pm: I kill the stove and run out to meet a freegan cohort, for this week's trash tour. Trash tours are at a pre-determined time and location, almost always around 10. We open trash bags on the curbside and rescue as much food as we can manage for one week's consumption. She typically takes much more than she could handle alone, as she then shares much of the food with residents at her building. We typically put all the food on display as we dig, talking with passersby, showing them the abundance of "waste" and food, and offering them the food also. This is where it gets telling…these schmucks can't seem to understand why people who function in a society, people who wash themselves daily and clean their clothes don't want to take trash from a bunch of filthy, hairy "people" who offer them garbage as food. Then we help ourselves to what's left over, return whatever we don't want to the garbage pile (always leaving any given location nicer than we found it!) that can't be too hard and move on to the next grocery store. You notice they do this at night, this is because they are embarrassed even though they don't admit it. I've often wondered what their parents must think of them.
11:40pm: Return with the booty: plenty of bread, fruits, veggies, herbs, eggrolls, veggie lo mein meals and a large block of blue cheese Since this is "blue cheese" and not "bleu cheese", I will assume he is either illiterate or the cheese is so old it is covered in blue mold…which is not that far fetched when getting your groceries from the garbage. I load it all into the fridge and freezer.
12am: Scarfing down the rice and lentils. He is always "scarfing" down food…I assume this is a technique so you don't taste the rancid food you are eating.
Wednesday, July 20
8:10am: Breakfast. PB&J bagel and a smoothie with apple, peach and pear. Actually this sounds fine. See? I can be nice.
9am: Back to recording!
11:30am: Pop a veggie lo mein in the microwave for the road. I eat half on the subway, cause it doesnt smell bad enough in those tunnels already? headed to 33rd Street and Lexington Avenue to meet with a videographer colleague. I have some music video ideas to discuss with him. I have an idea for a video where I am playing music on the subway and I get accosted by anti-freegan hooligans but I am saved at the last second by FreeganMan, a superhero I made up who dresses in soiled diapers and ripped garbage bags with a pineapple rind for a helmet. He also has the strength of 2 skinny vegetarian girls.
1:30pm: Walk to 33rd and 5th to finish my lunch and meet with a pastor/mentor at the Trinity Grace Church offices.
3:05pm: I brought my guitar with me for these errands but left my picks at home. I don't want to waste the ride back so I fashion guitar picks out of an old credit card and perform on the subway. I am immediately pelted by old copies of AM New York and also a half-empty Red Bull can. I don't want it to go to waste so I drink it…its only after that I realize that the can contained hobo pee.
5:30pm: Head back out for a DIY show in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn. I busk all the way there, playing guitar, harmonica and singing popular covers. This is how I earn my living but I don't earn much on this particular ride. What a surprise. I wish subway "performers" would realize that the only people who think they are cool or interesting is the fuckin tourists who see them. The rest of us think they are a noisy and irritating group of beggars who think that because they can hold a tune for the duration of one subway stop, that they are in fact on the same level as a Mezzo-Soprano performing at the Met. As I walk the seven blocks to the apartment building where the rooftop show is to be held, I am robbed by a man who's got at least a foot and a hundred pounds on me. This may be both the smartest and dumbest crook ever, smart because he chose a guy with the strength of 2 skinny vegetarian girls and dumb because you can't rob a guy who makes money by begging. He says it's his girlfriend's birthday and he wants to get her something nice. A thief with good intentions…actually in Brooklyn, I can believe that.
6:42pm: I arrive at the show. I'm first on the bill so I take the stage around 7:15pm. I am booed off the stage at 7:16. There is a crowd of 30-40 people to see me play. I can't believe there are even 2 people who came to see him play. I can't believe there is anyone in the entire city and 5 boroughs who was sitting around talking about how they couldn't wait for him to play. The rest of the musical acts are varied and fun, meaning better than him, I guess the food is vegan and delicious, that's not even possible the weather is perfect and the overall vibe fantastic. I make a ton of new friends/fans and contacts as a tipping point nears. What does this mean, a tipping point suggests that a major change is about to occur, if thats true maybe it means he will go home, take a shower and look for a real job so he can stop being a hobo. But since we are talking about a bum, I assume he means "tips" as in cash.
12:25am: The show has ended. I leave alone because even among this vegan, hygiene-challenged, chronically-unemployable crowd, I can't find one person who will walk me to the subway so I don't get robbed again but find some of my new friends on the subway platform. We sit and talk together. There is a ventriloquist on the train who does an impressive job cracking jokes with his puppet Suzy. Yeah, cause that doesn't sound like a child molester, right?
2am: I arrive at home, exhausted. I have to get some of these events off my chest via Twitter. On account of I am a twit.
3:09am: Throw back some eggrolls and beer, lamenting how late it's become. Who the hell sits around lamenting about the time, just go the fuck to bed.
Thursday, July 21
10am: I catch up on e-mail and prepare breakfast: oatmeal with dried cranberries and a smoothie with apple, pear and orange.
11:30am: Make plans for food rescue in the evening.
12:55pm: Everyone wants a revolution but nobody wants to do the dishes. Wow, thats deep…it's clearly an attempt to sound clever and sophisticated but instead it comes out like an accidental fart in a crowded room.
1:28pm: Lunch. Monday's soup with bread roll.
3:40pm: I head up to a new radical bookstore, for my 4pm volunteer shift. There's little traffic and not much to do so I pick up a book by Howard Zinn, Artists In Times of War. I'm inspired. Inspired to actually do some of the things that Howard Zinn reported on? Or inspired to continue sitting around a store taking up space?
9:30pm: Watching a documentary about freegans in NYC. Many of my friends are featured and I make a short appearance myself. I should have went for a trash tour tonight for tomorrow's party, but I didn't have anyone to accompany me. I consider going alone but it's getting too late. It's not too late, it's in fact the same time he went earlier in the week, he just is afraid of being accosted by normal productive members of the city who see him picking through the trash. For the record, I watched the documentary he mentioned, it follows 4 people in the UK who are freegans and these people were so clearly filthy that I could smell them through the TV,
10:53pm: Dinner. More eggrolls and an apple.
12:12am: I've stayed up a bit past schedule, what schedule?, you know, for a bum he spends lots of time worrying abut the time. watching the Daily Show and chatting with my roommates. Headed to bed!
Friday, July 22
9am: Finding open mics and couches to surf for next week's Mini(apolis) Tour to Pittsburgh, Chicago, Cincinnati, Chicago and of course Minneapolis.
2:45pm: I begin tidying up the place for a DIY show I'm hosting at my apartment tonight. Gotta remember to hang my bedsheets out the window for a few hours and get the unwashed stank out of them, I could get lucky tonight if only I can meet a woman as misguided on hygiene as myself.
3:45pm: Lunch. Homemade pizzas. Jesus how many week old bagels and rancid cheese can one man eat?
4:45pm: Help for tonight's show begins to arrive. A freegan cohort delivers a load of freegan eats for the party; the headliner arrives and helps me set up a bit. Another friend comes and transforms the food delivery into a freegan feast: pizza bites, fruit parfaits, chips and salsa, fruit punch and more! Just remember to pick out the stray hairs and roach eggs or you'll be sorry.
7pm: Friends, fans, and performing artists trickle in, munch on the food, mingle. They each play a set and I take the stage last around 11:30. This was probably the hottest day of the year and the little window AC and fans could hardly keep the space at a tolerable temperature. We made freegan popsicles from fresh fruit to keep folks cool and every one kept a real positive attitude throughout the night. I just can't take this…why would a group of dirty people force themselves into a small apartment with almost no air conditioning? For the love of Buddah, how can subjecting yourself and all these people to the furious stench and ungodly amounts of sweat be considered a good time by anyone with even half a brain?
3:30am: I've stayed up real late talking about DIY music, booking, recording, touring, busking, etc. Then we switched to more pressing topics such as how to comb week old food out of an unruly beard, how to make a single bar of soap last 12 months, how deodorant is overrated and its best to just become a walking fog of stench in the NYC heat and irritate every one else around you etc. I take a cold shower and head to bed.
Saturday, July 23
7:30am: Alarm sounds. And by that I mean, I can hear my landlord yell, "Get the fuck up you sweaty pile of shoe-stink, the muthafuckin rent's due! I get up and dressed, eat breakfast, grab my guitar and head out the door with Marc. I'm headed to the rock-climbing place, but this time to work my volunteer shift. I busk all the way there. I made 35 cents but also got condom wrapper and 2 Wendy's napkins. Also a piece of chewed gum that someone flicked into my hair.
9:41am: I'm 11 minutes late but nobody mentions it. Probably because no one wants to get within 15 feet of you. I clock in and help stock the fridges with drinks. I'm on the clock for the next three hours. Holy cow…I hope he gets his regular mandated breaks so he isn't overworked!
11am: A children's party begins and I'm charged with manning the climbing ropes as the kids ascend the walls. I enjoy teaching and working with kids, so this is definitely a fun time. Sure beats vacuuming the carpets and/or chalk-eater filters!
12:42pm: I'm off the clock. I walk over to a pizza place and buy a slice—my first food purchase all week. I eat and walk back to the gym and climb until around 2:30pm. Then head back home. Yep, this makes sense, a grown man, eats a single slice of pizza and then engages in physical activity for 2 hours, I can see why he has the physique of 13 year old girl.
4pm: My apartment is sweltering. I try to work at my computer but can't stay awake. It's not the heat, doofus, its the fact that you're body is starving for calories. I nap for about an hour. Then I get back to the computer and spend the rest of the night making plans for the tour next week and contacting local bands to book shows in NYC in August. This makes no sense, is he saying that he worked on this task for the next 7 and a half hours? There can't be that many people who think his music is good enough to want to book him. My guess is he spent the majority of that time like the rest of us: looking for porn…that brings up an interesting idea…is there freegan porn? Like semi-naked women and men rooting thru dumpsters, maybe with a smudge of coffee grounds on their faces…ugh I have to stop here, Im nauseous. I'm looking forward to putting on shows at the book store in Washington Heights!
11:30pm: Dinner. Some veggie lo mein and Monday night's soup. An episode of the Daily Show.
Sunday, July 24
8:50am: I'm late. Big Surprise…one thing I've learned over the years: people with nothing to say use their phones more than anyone else and people with no place to go are always late.
9:08am: I arrive at PS 75, the venue for Trinity Grace Church's Upper West Side morning service. I strap on my guitar, sound check and rehearse with the worship team until 10:45am. Here another question presents itself…if you suck, is it necessary to do a sound check?
11am: The service starts on time unlike me (this is rare but a rhythm we hope to establish. I clearly have much work to do on my own punctuality!). We hear a sermon on Psalm 37 sandwiched HA! was said sandwich from a dumpster outside Trader Joe's? between two sets of worship songs. I love playing with this band of brothers and sisters!
1:28pm: I take to the subway, busking my way home. As I didn't annoy enough people during church, here is my chance to make it up. I don't make much money and a group of men ridicule me aloud while I play. Well, that may have something to do with the fact your music is trite as it struggles to be recognized as folksy, your playing is barely proficient and your vocals bring to mind the sounds of Edith Piaf if you dug up her corpse and forced it to sing under water. As if this work wasn't hard enough!
3pm: Lunch. Finishing yesterday's veggie lo mein while continuing tour plans. Food poisoning…here I come!
5:12pm: I get a text from a friend who is at the TGC Chelsea service, which started at 5pm. I'm coming to meet them after the service; I'm still at home and need to shower before I leave. I end up sleeping most of the subway ride to 23rd street. Again, this has nothing to do with actual fatigue and everything to do with being an adult with the caloric intake of a 7 year old.
6:30pm: The service is over and I've somehow missed my friend. I link up with other friends and go to a nearby restaurant. This is my one budgeted meal of the week and I'm allowed $10. I end up spending that and change. Since I've broken my budget for the week, I will have to make it up…note to self: can I reuse toilet paper? We all share good food and conversation.
10:45pm: Looking over my week, I'm disappointed in my lack of discipline going to bed and getting up each day. Nevertheless I've gotten much done and had a very productive week! You think the multiple random naps and poor sleep schedule has something to do with eating barely nutritious food and taking meals at different times all week?
11:25pm: Dinner. Homemade pizzas and Monday's soup, still going strong... Just because you can keep something down, doesn't mean its good for you.
And there you have it, a week in the life of a freegan in NYC. I know I feel inspired to go out and…well…hmmmm…. actually I think I want to take a shower, relax in the clean cool filtered air conditioning and maybe later hit my pool with a glass of wine in hand.
But the whole time I'm doing that I'll be thinking of how despite the fact that I am not motivated to change the world thru a poorly planned and seriously repugnant way of life I will be able to look my family in the eye and say…at least we don't eat garbage.
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