What creature was Arthur going to identify with which would describe his life story perfectly? A poof, cat, punk, vagabond, outsider, outlaw, misfit? “How I Got (the) Beat and Became a Beatnik” kind of fit as a great title for his book, considering how many tales involved him getting beaten up or fucked-over on his thorny path to “freak-realization” but it lacked the big, universal heart that he hankered for.
All such spaces were autistic attempts at Utopias, a no-place of individual rights and freedoms that could co-exist with other desiring bodies without iron-clad rules and over-arching authorities, nothing compulsory and few restrictions except for the basic “try not to hurt others”, a hard life entailing lots of patience, compassion and co-operation. Of course freaks were pissing into the fractious wind, destroyed from within by their own idiosyncrasies as well as without by the reactionary powers that be, but everyone lives in hope, and freaks could only dream, of a better world.