“It is a pointless circular rambling about the stage that can be brought to happy conclusion only by a deus ex machina.”His account of his experience is anything but circular or pointless.
It is not a dirge or a Bukowski-like scratching of the groin but an offbeat and plaintive hymn to life.
There’s a funny moment when, in a Dumpster, he turns up an essay that a University of Texas student has discarded. “I am horrified,” he reports, “to discover the kind of paper that now merits an A in an undergraduate course.”The author recognizes that Austin is a good place to be homeless.
The weather is temperate; the city’s politics are liberal.
Dry foods, slightly dented fruits and hard candy are edible according to him.
He goes on to talk about how he used to loiter around a dumpster outside a pizza delivery store and eat those pizzas which were either left overs, discarded because they were cold, baked imperfectly or the wrong order was given.
Because he slept under the stars, he decided to learn about them.
He did not obtain a college degree but is the sort of fellow who can drop French phrases into his writing without sounding la-di-da.
Despite the care he takes, he still manages to get "dysentery" once a month.
He also expresses the stages a new scavenger goes through.