Growing a Life Worth Living

by Max Mackay

Each day that I wake up begins with a sigh. Rolling out of bed in the

afternoon, I feed my cats and walk outside. I sit, watch the birds, and

enjoy some cannabis. There is a beautiful pond in my peripheral. This is

my healthcare as I have not seen a doctor in many years. Not that there

is anything wrong with seeking medical assistance, that has just never

been an option for me. I have lived in poverty all my life in the

Midwest of the so called United States. Every day is different but this

is my default. I begin mentally running through my to do list for the

day, the week, and the month. I have no direct boss though I have

answered to many in the form of landlords, police, and bill collectors.

I grew up in a single parent home; my mother would sometimes work three

jobs and sometimes no job. I have been evicted from more homes than I

can remember. I have lived rural poor as well as city poor, and both

have shared similarities while having their own unique humiliations and

opportunities. For instance, no matter where I live the sound of

gunshots are common. The city has lots of entertainment to sneak into,

libraries, plentiful food to dumpster dive, and corporate businesses to

steal from. The countryside has endless beauty, all the food you can

grow, and far fewer police.

 

I don’t work in the traditional sense of dependable wage labor with a

direct hierarchy and set schedule. My income is sporadic, minimal, and

from a variety of ever changing untaxed sources. I live off of the

scraps of capitalism. I am not intimidated by hard work. I spent many

summers and weekends as a child working 12 hour days. I view my physical

and mental labor as a bottomless well, but capital is something I have

nearly always lacked. I utilize any tool I can that requires time and

effort but not money. I live modestly by consumer standards, but a life

brimming with new experiences and meaningful relationships.

I grew up in a generation of kids that had it beat into our heads that

we should go to college and the message we could be anything. I also

grew up in a generation defined by NAFTA, the 2008 economic collapse,

and The War Against Terror™. I was ‘advanced for my age,’ often

recommended to be moved up entire grades, yet I was discouraged and

disciplined my entire childhood in the public school system precisely

because of my desire to acquire knowledge. I also grew up in the age of

online communication. I can name on one hand the amount of things I

learned in school in 12 constant years of attendance, but I never

stopped educating myself outside of the classroom. Online encyclopedias,

message boards, and illegally downloaded books, lectures, and computer

programs combined with my own two hands and life experience taught me

many specialized skills.

 

These skills in combination with petty crime have allowed for my

survival. Any commodity imaginable I have dumpster dived: from multiple

working refrigerators, to enough produce to fill a vehicle on a regular

basis, hookahs, clothes, books, furniture, even crack cocaine (which I

destroyed). All around me, I notice potential resources from fallen tree

limbs to edible weeds. I taught myself to build decks, paint houses,

vehicle repair, and lay concrete. I have written and printed literature

for free from locations I had no reason to be at. When the price of

aluminum was much higher I could make money just going on a walk with a

backpack.  For many years my primary income came from selling my plasma,

and I saw it as getting paid $30 an hour to read radical literature. I

have no doubt my blood was worth much more than I was paid. Learning to

cook for myself has allowed me to eat foods like rice, lentils,

potatoes, quinoa, couscous, and pasta which sell by the pound for less

than what my peers spend on a single meal prepared by someone else. I

have cooked the far majority of the meals I have eaten as an adult.

Through borrowing, trade, and favors I have built trusting and

fulfilling relationships with others that provide support when times get

tough. I stay always on the move, spending time with friends,

acquaintances, and accomplices. I am careful not to overstay my welcome

while sticking around when I find a reliable hustle. I have found that

while as a consumer it rarely makes sense financially to purchase parts

and repair products, as a thief it is much easier and contains far less

risk to steal parts and learn to repair larger more guarded items that

have been discarded.

 

There are times when I feel like I have actively chosen this lifestyle.

I am proud of the direct experience I live. Shoplifting liquor to sell

at half price getting a one up on the same business that would pay me

less for creating all their wealth for them if I were their employee.

Laying in a field stargazing on a healthy dose of psilocybin with no

immediate responsibilities to attend to other than my own desires. I

feel fortunate knowing that when someone contacts me last minute to

spend time with them or to travel I don’t have anyone I must seek

permission from before leaving for an undetermined amount of time,

perhaps forever. Despite my struggling financial situation, I have

remained without any debt which is more than I can say for many of my

peers.

 

There have also been many times this way of life has been forced on me.

Growing up, my family has been in real physical danger due to negligent

landlords who will never be held responsible and still collected rent on

time.  There is a long list of abusive partners my mother stayed with

for momentary financial security. Despite not having any debt, I am also

without credit. I have boiled more bath water, layered up under more

blankets, lit rooms with more candles, and eaten more ketchup sandwiches

than I care to recall. At times, it still feels humiliating to return to

the same store paying in nickels as I did the week before for basic

necessities.

 

On a much less ambitious scale, I am continuing a tradition of many

criminals before me. I think often of those brave thoughtful young men

who made up the auto-bandits in France. I think of pirates like Black

Sam Bellamy living dangerously in the Golden Age. Even the fictional

exploits of the Greek figure Autolycus amuse and inspire me. I used to

be a victim of a situation I did not choose but as I got older I learned

how to flip situations in my favor.I welcome the challenge ahead.