A Bum's Night Out: Too much Time On my Hands (John Duran's Story Analysis, Part I)
Updated: Aug 19
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Table of Contents:
The Story Itself
Ms. Gabbi Grace's Analysis
The Story
The Author's Synopsis
In the chilly streets of Richmond, Virginia, one homeless man is just trying to stay warm and avoid the harsh judgment of society. With his quirky friend Hunter by his side—a man who carries gasoline disguised as soda—our narrator finds solace in loitering and watching the world go by.
But when a bum with a questionable sense of personal dignity stumbles onto the scene, things take a turn for the absurd. With a wild night ahead, expect laughter, unexpected choices, and a whole lot of coffee as they navigate the thin line between survival and insanity. Because sometimes, the path to a warm bed can be… well, a little too colorful for comfort!
The Plot
One perfectly frigid winter evening I was chilling-out at a local convenience store in Richmond, Virginia for the dual purpose of warmth and entertainment. Basically I was just loitering around. A personal speciality of mine, loitering, and I had refined it down to an artform. I was only standing there because I had nowhere better to be, and nothing in particular to do. Being homeless I had oodles of time to waste.
Every once in a while, I’d enter the store to warm up, spending a paltry quarter on an arcade game to avoid being actually accused of loitering, though that’s exactly what I was doing. Yes, I was certainly guilty, but paying my measly quarter once in a while seemed to justify my presence just enough, and I was therefore somewhat tolerated. Even a quarter is profit after all right? Every time I entered for some temporarily warming relief I got an annoyed look from the cashier, but no actual complaint arrived because I was still spending that coin. This is the sad nature of our world, without the coin of the realm, we don’t seem to matter sadly.
By this time I had already been wandering homeless for a number of years across multiple states, and none of the programs set up for the unfortunate applied to someone of my unique caliber or demeanor. These programs are oriented to help mainly addicts of one kind or another. Having no interest in alcohol personally, I had always avoided it. Watching drunks seemed far more entertaining to me than actually acting as one.
I wouldn’t even drink a single beer. As far as drugs were concerned, the very concept of getting high bothered me so I refused to try them. Religion itself disgusted me, who needs such dogmatic beliefs forced in the cause of helping the unfortunate? So all of the poverty-oriented programs that enforced religious services and dogma were completely out of the pictures as well. Is a lousy meal worth an hour’s pontification about a non-interfering and decidedly unhelpful God? Who really wants to be directly preached to as a paid ransom for a paltry meal? That’s not my scene friends.
Tragically in American cities, no doubt by a vast insidious design, these types of restrictive programs are the only help that’s generally available for the homeless to utilize, and the desperate have little choice in the matter really.
Participate or starve. A simple choice no? It’s all perfectly intentional as I’ve discovered.
If one’s own nature is not subject to such addictions as drugs or alcohol, and loathes religious beliefs being forced down their throats, too damned bad right? Why would the poor deserve better, more reasonable options than the ones already around? Better options with more of actual usefulness to basic living and fewer forced dogmas and too-perfect ideals being pushed?
In short, even among the homeless I was considered highly unusual.
I had no legitimate place to live because I was alone, without a support system and poorer than that legendary church-mouse. Also the idea of wage-slavery utterly revolted me down to my very soul. I believe the idea should offend anyone that considers themselves a free spirit. Doubly so with rents being so utterly outrageous and beyond reason itself upon lands that by all natural rights should be free. Wage-slaving away only to pay the pitifully scant fruits of my hard labor to landlords, it seems quite unnatural to me and borders on the edge of evil in my personal view.
Even if I were somehow eagerly inclined to join this depressing and oppressing joke of a soulless financial system, my disadvantages and handicaps were legion. I had no verifiable employment history, no credit, possessed no references and no employable or useful skills beyond existing as a generic human body only capable of mindless labor.
Any employment I would have barely qualified for would never pay enough to manage rent, as well as all the extra costs associated, so why bother? Why not just live for the moment and wander, to see as much as I could during my limited time here on Earth? Life being short enough already, why waste it choosing wage-slavery?
So I was always completely on my own. I have fashioned my own home deep within myself, and have always found a way to adapt thus far. My home was potentially everywhere, or nowhere, depending upon one’s perspective.
Many of my days were spent frittered away in fast food places like Burger King, where they had bottomless cheap coffee and wonderfully sugary soda with refills allowed, and always self-serve, so also technically endless. I’d often curl up at a quiet back table with a fun paperback to pass my time and defy tedium. Since few seemed to read, free tattered paperbacks were everywhere, and at least they found a home with me, until finished, and like a spurned lover, haphazardly flung away in favor of yet another.
Usually sitting alone, and often joined by fellow homeless loiterers that also had no particular place to go. We all had that much in common at the very least. Were we a tribe? Only in the most liberal definition of the word. Were we friendly? Usually, but not always. It often depended upon our level of irritation at that particular moment. Cantankerous and crotchety attitudes can be quite common among the misfits of society. Doubly true when living outside in the unforgiving elements.
Loitering seemed as good a way to pass the endless hours as any other. Considering the restaurant manager had a kind soul, my fellow homeless and I were never bothered or asked to leave unless our presence bothered other more ‘legitimate’ customers (meaning those regular folks that spent more money at once, which we never did, being poverty-stricken).
So it became a major hangout for the drifters, misfits and wanderers such as myself. We weren’t obnoxious like the young hoodlums having drag races in the streets, or dangerous such as the criminals and addicts prowling the alleys looking for their eternal fix.
Burger King wasn’t exactly nightclub-level excitement, but it worked for us because we were far more mellow-natured than ever suspected by a dismissive society that hadn’t a clue about the true nature of our independent-minded tribe.
We were non-conformists in our uniquely different ways. Where there is no home, we were resilient enough to make our own, growing accustomed to each other’s company, often begrudgingly but surely. Sharing a common bond of unfortunate circumstances helped us get along with each other at least.
Analysis by Ms. Gabbi Grace
The story "A Bum's Night Out: Too Much Time On My Hands (Part 1)" offers a poignant and philosophical exploration of life on the fringes of society. Through the eyes of a homeless man navigating the streets of Richmond, Virginia, we are invited to reflect on deep existential questions about freedom, societal values, and the nature of human dignity. As the narrator resists the structures of modern life—eschewing work, rejecting religious charity, and avoiding addiction—we see a unique form of rebellion against the oppressive forces of capitalism, conformity, and coercion.
Beneath the humor and absurdity lies a profound critique of how society treats its most vulnerable members, while also raising questions about what it means to live authentically in a world that seems to demand submission.
In this analysis, we will delve into the philosophical underpinnings of the narrator's journey, examining themes of existentialism, alienation, and the absurd, all while considering the ethical complexities of survival and self-determination.
This narrative presents a rich opportunity for philosophical analysis, touching upon themes of existentialism, alienation, the nature of freedom, societal constructs, and ethics. Here's a breakdown:
Existentialism and Freedom
The protagonist of this story embodies the core of existentialist thought—one that values individual freedom, authenticity, and a rejection of conventional societal norms. His homelessness is not only a practical reality but also a philosophical stance. By refusing to participate in "wage slavery" and rejecting societal structures like employment, religion, and addiction-based homelessness programs, he is asserting a radical form of autonomy.
In existentialism, particularly in the work of thinkers like Sartre, freedom is central, but it comes with the burden of responsibility. The narrator exercises his freedom by choosing a life outside societal norms, but this freedom comes at a cost—poverty, isolation, and a life on the margins of society. The story highlights that this autonomy can be both liberating and deeply lonely.
His refusal to work, despite acknowledging the "pitifully scant fruits of his labor" that would go to landlords, reflects Sartre's idea of "bad faith" in the economic system—participating in a system that ultimately dehumanizes and restricts individual freedom. Instead of being trapped in bad faith, he chooses a path of resistance, albeit one that leads to homelessness. For him, this form of living becomes an art of loitering, a deliberate act of existential defiance.
Alienation and Modern Society
The narrator's description of himself as a loiterer reflects a deep sense of alienation from society. He recognizes that without the "coin of the realm," he does not matter in the eyes of society. This is a critique of the capitalist system, where value is equated with economic contribution, and those who cannot or will not participate are deemed invisible or irrelevant. His homelessness, therefore, symbolizes his disconnection from mainstream values, particularly the monetization of existence.
Marx's concept of alienation is also relevant here.
The narrator feels alienated not only from labor (which he rejects) but also from community and purpose, despite the moments of connection with fellow homeless individuals. They form a loose tribe, but this bond is fragile, marked by occasional camaraderie but often irritation and mutual indifference. This reflects the modern condition of fragmentation and the breakdown of traditional forms of community.
Ethics of Survival and Dignity
The narrator's ethical stance is complex. On the one hand, he refuses to conform to societal norms that he sees as degrading, such as religious-based charity that comes with strings attached. His refusal to participate in these systems can be seen as a stand for personal dignity and integrity. He sees these programs as coercive, trading spiritual dogma for basic sustenance, which he finds morally repugnant.
On the other hand, his situation raises ethical questions about the responsibility of society to provide for those who reject its norms. Is society obligated to offer assistance without conditions, or does the individual bear responsibility for their choices? The narrator critiques the lack of options for people like him—those who are not addicts but also reject religious or traditional forms of aid. This critique challenges the moral assumptions of charity and the societal structures that limit freedom for the sake of order.
The Absurd and Humor in Suffering
The tone of the story, while often serious, also contains elements of dark humor and absurdity. The narrator’s observation of his friend Hunter, who carries gasoline disguised as soda, adds an absurd twist that mirrors the unpredictable and often irrational nature of life. This reflects an absurdist perspective, reminiscent of Camus’ philosophy. Life, especially at the margins of society, can seem absurd, yet the characters navigate it with a blend of humor, resilience, and adaptability.
Camus’ notion of "the absurd" is the conflict between humans’ desire for meaning and the indifferent, chaotic universe. In this context, the narrator's life as a homeless man embodies this absurdity—he loiters, watches, and waits, finding small moments of solace in places like Burger King, where the tribe of the unwanted gathers. This contrasts sharply with society’s structured order, which seeks meaning through work, religion, and social roles.
The absurdity is also reflected in his refusal to seek meaning through the traditional paths of religion or intoxication. Instead, he finds meaning—or at least endures—by maintaining his own sense of dignity, even if that dignity is expressed through what society sees as "loitering" or refusing to work. His journey is a rejection of externally imposed meanings, living instead in a way that acknowledges the absurdity of existence while maintaining his own autonomy.
Philosophical Conclusion
In "A Bum's Night Out," the narrator is a philosopher of the streets, navigating life through an existential lens while critiquing the societal structures that marginalize him. He refuses to be defined by societal expectations, whether those involve work, religion, or addiction. His life is an act of rebellion, but also one of survival in a world that often dehumanizes those who do not conform.
This story speaks to broader philosophical issues about freedom, the nature of society, and the ethics of living in the modern world.
The narrator’s life, while difficult, represents a form of authenticity that is rare in a world dominated by conformity and commodification. In his loitering and wandering, he finds a way to exist on his own terms, even if those terms lead him to the cold streets of Richmond. His story challenges us to consider the nature of freedom and the cost of living authentically in a world that values material success above all else.
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