The River Phoenix of homeless town.

"Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears."

~John Lennon

One of the first people I met on the streets was a young man named Stoker. His story mimics scores of others on the streets of Las Vegas. He is a heroine addict and his addiction has kept him disenfranchised the last two years. He will be the first to tell you that. Whenever I encounter him I am always cordial, but for the most part I make it point to steer clear of him and others like him. Last Thursday, I was walking through Sienna park when I saw him sitting on a bench, crouched over, with his head in his hands crying.

To be honest, I don't like this kid too much, but when I saw him sitting there crying I felt it best to show compassion, so I offered him a bottle of water. "Stoker, here, take this bottle of water. Are you OK?" The kid has an uncanny resemblance to my favorite actor James Franco. That's the only thing I find cool about him. "Do I look fucking OK to you!" After his answer, I decided to leave it at that and move on. As I'm walking away, he tells me this, "I'm sorry about that dude. Its just been a horrible day. Last night my friend Alan died of a heroine overdose and I'm the only person who seems to give a shit." 

Unfortunately, news of this nature is old hat on the streets of Las Vegas. I told him I was sorry to hear about his loss. I then asked him if Alan was the guy who always rode a bike around, "That's him. The dumb bastard loved that bike more than anything. He would throw his cardboard on top of his bike and sleep on it. He was always so afraid someone would steal it from him." After he told me about Alan and his bike, I couldn't help but crack a smile. He saw my smile and cracked one of his own. I then told him this, "Try to remember the good things about your friend. It sounds like he was quite a character." He said that he would try and that he had to go. As I watched him walk away an unpleasant thought went through my head. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if Stoker ended up like his friend. I pray that doesn't happen, but like I said, it wouldn't surprise me.

I like to end every post of mine with a thought I'm having...Call it the vagabond thought of the day. "I had a lifelong friend call me today and ask what the hell was going on with me. He then offered to fly out to Las Vegas and take me back to Texas with him. I want him to know that I appreciated his concern. I sincerely do. But the truth of the matter and it may sound bizarre to most who read this blog. I can't leave Las Vegas; no matter what. She's my home through good and bad."