In 2005, Cadillac Man wrote an article for Esquire about his life on the streets. His story later became a memoir, and his memoir inspired the screenplay for Time Out of Mind, a new film starring Richard Gere as a homeless man navigating the streets of Manhattan. What follows is an excerpt from the original piece. You can read the rest at Esquire Classic.

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You do get used to the rats.

One thing they always tell you when you're sleeping out is make sure you wash your hands and face. And this one particular night I didn't and I also had a sandwich in my pocket, a peanut-butter sandwich, and I really love peanut butter and as I was sleeping I felt a little something moving and it was sorta like somebody going for my pocket. Somebody trying to rip me off or something. I reach in the pocket real quick and hello there! I find myself holding a rat, face-to-face. What are you doing here? And he's like looking at me you know and I'm like, Oh you're hungry, too, and I gave him the sandwich. A couple nights later same thing, although a different rat. I felt him on me and I was like, Oh he's trying to get warm. Just like a dog, the rat wants to cuddle up to you. And in the summertime, you can count on keeping fresh rat bites on your hands. They don't mean any harm, they're just looking for food. Everybody thinks they carry rabies, and that's the biggest farce going. All right, they do carry some disease, that's true, but how many people actually die of rat bites? Check with the board of health and you'll see none. How many people got sick from the rat bite? Perhaps a few. 

They don't bother me. 

I am homeless, and this is my story, and rats, for instance, are simply a fact of my life. 

Another fact of life out here is the street hustle, that biological need that we each have to get an edge, fair or unfair. It's what keeps us from giving up and it's the same impulse that makes us excel as a human race.

And let me tell you: There is larceny in all of us.

Out here no more and no less than where you live.

I never used my ice pick to thieve, just for protection. That was my first street name, Ice Pick. Kind of scared people, and sometimes they were right to be scared. Now the name's Cadillac Man, got it the hard way, got clipped by a car, actually got smashed by a car, you're a real target when you push your wagon in the street. Spent some time in the hospital and came out Cadillac Man. The guy whose name is on my birth certificate is dead as far as I'm concerned. Of course, the government comes looking for him every now and then, but that's okay, I no longer have anything to hide. I don't steal or beg. Some do, and they have their reasons, but I don't. And before you think you're all that different from us, let me ask you this: If I was to look in your dwelling right now, would I find office supplies? Stationery? Toiletries? Other freebies?

I don't care how straight you are, even the pope in Rome pads the expense account. And nobody fleeces like somebody who protests that he doesn't—"Why, never!"

But now we're not talking about your world. We are embarking on a journey into mine. Please prepare yourself. A word of warning: You can't be nicey nicey out here. You have to be mean to survive.

***

In my eleven years homeless in New York City, I've seen hundreds like this kid here. Eddie's a real easy mark. 

"Hey Cadillac Man! Hey Cadillac Man!"

Eddie, shut the fuck up! I ain't deaf.

"Look! Look!" he says, waving a check.

Snatch it out of his hand. I am tempted to tear it up but look first, a check made out to him, eight thousand dollars and change.

Very good Eddie, cash and hide somewhere at your mom's place.

"Yeah yeah okay, come by the park, I will buy you coffee."

My man! I will be there.

"Cool, cool, gotta go see the Wizard and pay him. Later Cadillac Man."

Later Eddie.

Eddie is an okay guy, loves his juice and doesn't have to be homeless. Chose to live out here. "I want to be with my friends," he says, causing his mother a lot of heartache. On bad-weather days she would come around with hot food and clean clothes. "Cadillac Man, have you seen my Edward?" I can't lie and bring her over to the park.

Most of the times, he's sitting there, bottle in hand, reeking of alcohol, piss, and shit but that doesn't bother her. She would take away the bottle and spoon-feed him talking softly, stroking his hair.

Other times he's under the park bench covered with a tarp, she's pleading for him to come out, then looking at me with those please-help-me eyes.

Eddie wasn't much good at canning and panhandling; I have seen his mother slip him money though. Would buy the cheapest, rottenest beer or booze, that way he didn't have to share with anyone. Contrary to what outsiders believe, that we will drink anything is a myth. Most of us have certain tastes and will not vary. He got to be a pain in the ass, always mooching— "Spare a quarter? Spare a quarter?"—and you would, just to get rid of him.

Yessiree, he hit up everybody until one day he met up with the Wizard.

Read the full story at Esquire Classic.

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