askally

I Wanna Be A Hobo…

In Life on August 2, 2008 at 12:51 am

I would like to be a hobo.

I don’t want to be what we now refer to as a ‘homeless person’, I want to be a hobo. A classic 1930’s-era hobo, complete with battered harmonica, plaid ‘kerchief bindle, plenty o’ tinned beans, nary a care in the world, a head full of tales spun by the fire, and a heart full of homespun wisdom!

(There’s lots of spinning to be spun in this particular fantasy.)

I want to have a lovable little mongrel dog named Patches who follows me everywhere, eating my scraps and licking my travel-related wounds.

I want to have threadbare clothes and a tattered hat and a full, manly-yet-scruffy beard upon my chin. I want to pee on every major landmark, freeway, picket-fence, radio tower, and policeman in the Southwestern United States.

I would like to spit “tobacki”, and swear, and hold “tobacki” spitting contests, and swear while doing so.

I want every soup kitchen in a tri-county area to know me by name, and give me an extra slice of bread with my soup, and punch me lightly on the arm when I dribble soup in my beard, and who laughingly ask, “Oh! You mischievous little scamp, whatever do you get up to?”

I want to have thousands of true stories with which to answer that question, and to be able to tell them in a worn, gravelly voice with a look in my eye that makes them just know that I am telling the truth.

I would like to fall asleep on a pile of sweet grass and old newspapers, covered by my coat, looking up at stars that are not obscured by light pollution… or any other kind of pollution, for that matter.

Yep. I want to be a hobo.

And if I can’t be a hobo, then I want to be… I’ll describe that particular fantasy another time.

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  1. You, miss, are stealing my dreams.

  2. i want to be a caterpillar

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