There is quite a bit of middle ground between being a teetotaler and being a crack, meth or heroin addict camping and ****ing on the streets.
Yes I get that but I suspect you have no earthly idea how much dope costs.
I do, because twenty five years ago I was a major league crackhead. And I do mean MAJOR league.
Look, when we first moved back to L.A. we lived in a rental house in Downey, on Studebaker Road, right near where the I-5 and I-605 cross each other. The local convenience store was two blocks up.
(A-1 Beer and Wine)
A homeless guy was allowed to live BEHIND the strip mall. All he had to do was sweep up the parking lot, wash some windows, help a little bit with unloading stock and keep an eye on the place at night.
He was a really nice guy, but he had some pretty distinct health issues. He'd been a victim of domestic violence, his brother beat him so badly that he'd been in the ICU for several months and when he got out he had memory problems.
Never saw so much as drink a beer, smoke a joint or shoot up anything.
In fact, when we got ready to move out and move into the house we bought, I hired him to help us pack the U-Haul truck. Karen is a medical pot user, so we had medical pot.
I offered him a joint and he turned down the offer. I offered him a cold beer, again he turned it down and drank bottled water instead.
For a guy with a cracked braincase and slammed grey matter and a limp, he sure did work pretty hard.
He earned every penny of the hundred bucks I gave him for helping.
Freddy died last year of a cerebral hemorrhage, or at least that is what the A-1 store owner believes the cause of death was.
Now, Freddy might not be every homeless person wandering around L.A. but I suspect there are quite a few like him, but sure...the druggies and drunks are generally much more visible. Freddy always kept a low profile.
You'd have to look for him to find him.