an interesting thing happened to me on the way home from the forum

so i went to college and graduated. Then i went promptly into lower-class america. Why? I fancy myself a writer. some of my favorite writers wrote about or garnered insperation from the poor lower class.

Wordsworth. Dickens. Gilman. and to a lesser extent, Hawthorne and Wolfe. event Ray Bradbury, the author of the novel got me interested in creative writing had characters from the lower-middle class.

So, when i left Cornell to seek my fortune, i sought the slums and meager means to keep myself. When i found a job at a restaurant it was serendipitous. 'here,' i thought 'i can work and get food (occasionally).'

anyway, no more then tonight did the realization of my perdictament hit me. Recently, i ran out of money. literally. Went my place of employment changed the payday dates. I deposited my rent check before I cashed my check. As i lacked sufficient funds. my bank has a neat program were when i over draw, then they pay the differnce and only charge me 27$. thats right 27$. but there is a charge... but i digress...

so without money i was walking home with a handf full of soup (which that we were throwing away (to old)) that i dropped I realized the sadness of this life. "sad" isn't right. Sad makes me think "pathetic." and it's not that. ...Woeful. thats right. I live with great people who help support me. I love them. But in the moment that hot dinner- future meat- hit the pavement i felt my hunger more then any before.

I've said befor that i've not lived enough hardship to make a good writer. but i feel that understanding hardship brings me closer. It makes me wonder about all the world that doesn't have such an arrey of safety nets.

-marcus