I'm Choosing to Be Homeless in LA

"It is the privilege of the Gods to want nothing, and of godlike men to want little." - Diogenes

Today is December 30th, 2019. About a month ago, my landlord sent me an email that the rent for my room in his Brentwood townhouse would be going up. Presently, I pay $1100 (after a $50 discount for promised amenities which broke and were never replaced). On January 1st, he wrote in a revised lease, those amenities would no longer be included, and therefore my discount would be going away. Also, on February 1st, the rent would be going up to $1350.

Again, that is $1350 per month to rent one bedroom in a house, not a one-bedroom apartment.

Depending on where in the country you are reading this from, you'll either balk at that amount or shrug and say, "Well, that's the westside for you." Or, I suppose if you're in New York City or San Francisco, you'll be jealous that $1350 gets you a whole room all to yourself.

Well, no longer. I'm not paying it. To me, this is an opportunity to opt-out of society temporarily, and the thought of this freedom is incredibly exciting.

Admittedly, other factors are at play here. In addition to my rent going up, my income has been going steadily down. I work in a restaurant and used to make about $3,000+ per month from only 20 to 30 hours of work per week. Over the past year, my hours and that number have been coming down. Now, my take home is somewhere around $2,000 per month, and the business itself may fold any day.

Some may wonder at this point, "Well, why aren't you working more? You should have a second job if you're only working 20 hours a week." In LA, no less. Yeah, I know most think that. American work-culture is a mindset you have to buy into for it to be effective, and one we're trained into from childhood, so I can't blame you for adhering to and prescribing the norm. But as a life goes, is the one of full-time work fulfilling?

I've worked in a number of fields, mostly sales and service, but also as a writer and doing other office work. I'm educated, with many years of community college under my belt, plus a degree in Philosophy from UCLA.

There is nothing stopping me from getting a second or third job, to be sure, except that I refuse. Life isn't meant to be spent shackled and exploited, doing someone else's bidding, trading years of your life for pennies on the dollar that your work produces. The reason I've been working part-time is that I could manage it, but it's no longer manageable, so for now I'm trying something radically different.

Giving up the comfort of a stable residence ought to make me nervous, but this decision has actually been at the back of my mind for a long time. I've always thought that living on the street must offer insights that most of us will never experience. Of course there are risks, and costs, but for me the calculus makes sense.

What could I learn from this and what will that education be worth to me? What do I have to lose?

It's worth noting some statistics. As of this writing, there are nearly 60,000 homeless in Los Angeles county, with about 10,000 of those people living out of their vehicles. Additionally, one in four homeless persons are suffering from a severe mental illness, according to the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority.

This has been an ongoing problem for residents both housed and unhoused, and only continues to grow as economic forces drive affordable housing out of reach for many. I'm interested in living in the margins alongside them rather than continuing to bob around, often struggling to simply stay afloat. There seems to be a gap preventing those with power from acting in the interests of those without, and I hope to find out whether it can be closed.

Earlier this year, I told some friends that I'd like to be homeless for a few months, just to see what it's like, just to understand. Perhaps to do something about it in time. I'm in a good position to do this as well, in that I've never been in a particularly good financial position, so the transition wouldn't be difficult, and I wouldn't have safety nets to fall back on. Because, of course, the rich can't do this properly. The song "Common People" by Pulp comes to mind.

My whole life I've been just one rung up from the bottom. I've tried climbing, and I've tried staying still, and both have left me in the same position, if not teetering even more precariously. At the end of January, I'm going to let go, and see what awaits me after a short fall onto the streets of Los Angeles.

I will continue posting more information about me and my journey as it progresses. Feel free to comment or send me an email at [email protected] if you like.