Right now I live in an interesting neighborhood. Waterbugs aside, I've grown to like this apartment and the noisy neighborhood. From my bed on the floor, you see a tree out the window, and you don't notice the overpass. Every other window in the house looks into my neighbor's apartment. They do not like me yet, but maybe I'll win them over. I work only about 2 miles from where I live, and every morning I get to take a 4 minute train ride to another country.
I start over here where there always people outside. This area seems to have a fashion all its own, with a sort of circus-burlesque aesthetic. A man wearing giant iguanas walks around. The women are not shy about their bodies. The ghetto has always fostered this sort of natural, colloquial, totally radical form of self-love this gets mistaken for a lack of class. But I'm pretty sure it's more of a lack of inhibition. Somehow, a lack of being affected by the sickness that makes so many people hate their bodies to the extent of wearing a sweater in late July to cover flabby arms. There seems to be an element of "mind-your-goddamn-business-and-don't judge" mixed in with what I'll gladly label as hard-earned confidence. The people I meet in my neighborhood are not afraid to admit their love for "Kennedy Fried Chicken" and soul food.
The babies ride in umbrella strollers at all hours of the day and night. The babies do not mind. Some people are friendly towards me, most people are skeptical. I don't mind either way. The 99 cent store sells tiny turtles and angel fish. I buy myself a $3 pair of shoes and a push-pop. I smile at the mommies who scowl back at me, and I wave to the friendly old mid-day hookers out back.
In the morning I get on the train with all of the other workers. People who live here work there, people who live there work in the Manhattan, (as lawyers of investment bankers or CEOs), or they don't work at all, they just exist as busy housewives, often with hired help to care for their children. The hired help lives in my neighborhood. So here we are, the employees dressed in black, the domestic workers and the busboys and line cooks and doormen. We all have our quick little ride and step out into another world.
Here people don't smoke cigarettes. Mommies are expected to retain their 18-year-old pre-baby bodies for their entire lives. Babies ride in luxury prams and enjoy clean parks where no teenagers exist, and no toys are ever stolen. The play trucks actually live in the sandbox at the playground, no one steals them, and no cats piss there. There are no state-run affordable housing units and the prospect of one being put up is enough to enrage the locals. If you lose your job as an investment banker, you just be unemployed for a year or two until another one comes around. Your family may have to sacrifice a vacation for this. With very few exceptions, everyone is white.
People are quick and for the most part, avoid people who aren't immediate members of their social circles. The locals are gifted with the magical ability to instantly detect the net value of a stranger and base interactions with that person on the result. It is because of this, and a number of other small quirks that I much prefer there to here. The schools here are the best in the country and every 5 year old is expected to be proficient in golf, tennis, piano, a foreign language, and at least one type of dance. Crime is more or less nonexistent.
Everyone is very upset that a construction site in one of the 5 parks is creating a big eyesore. I can not stop myself from feigning concern about this issue.
"Oh, I know! It's awful! A real problem, about that truck in the park. Such an eyesore! Our children deserve better. Also, a pregnant woman was shot in the face on the steps of the church in my neighborhood last week! Yep, we're all facing some real problems. Best of luck with the park situation though, eh?"
I can't help myself, silly goose troll that I am. The disparity in quality of life is what it is, and I guess it's always set up this way. We all have our complaints, we sure as hell do. In typical fashion, I don't quite fit anywhere. Where there's a crack to fall through, I'm sure to fall every time. I prefer it that way.
How can someone so loving be such a grouch? In defense of Oscar, there's so much more to us grouches than our grouchiness. More on that another day.
xoxoxox
I start over here where there always people outside. This area seems to have a fashion all its own, with a sort of circus-burlesque aesthetic. A man wearing giant iguanas walks around. The women are not shy about their bodies. The ghetto has always fostered this sort of natural, colloquial, totally radical form of self-love this gets mistaken for a lack of class. But I'm pretty sure it's more of a lack of inhibition. Somehow, a lack of being affected by the sickness that makes so many people hate their bodies to the extent of wearing a sweater in late July to cover flabby arms. There seems to be an element of "mind-your-goddamn-business-and-don't judge" mixed in with what I'll gladly label as hard-earned confidence. The people I meet in my neighborhood are not afraid to admit their love for "Kennedy Fried Chicken" and soul food.
The babies ride in umbrella strollers at all hours of the day and night. The babies do not mind. Some people are friendly towards me, most people are skeptical. I don't mind either way. The 99 cent store sells tiny turtles and angel fish. I buy myself a $3 pair of shoes and a push-pop. I smile at the mommies who scowl back at me, and I wave to the friendly old mid-day hookers out back.
In the morning I get on the train with all of the other workers. People who live here work there, people who live there work in the Manhattan, (as lawyers of investment bankers or CEOs), or they don't work at all, they just exist as busy housewives, often with hired help to care for their children. The hired help lives in my neighborhood. So here we are, the employees dressed in black, the domestic workers and the busboys and line cooks and doormen. We all have our quick little ride and step out into another world.
Here people don't smoke cigarettes. Mommies are expected to retain their 18-year-old pre-baby bodies for their entire lives. Babies ride in luxury prams and enjoy clean parks where no teenagers exist, and no toys are ever stolen. The play trucks actually live in the sandbox at the playground, no one steals them, and no cats piss there. There are no state-run affordable housing units and the prospect of one being put up is enough to enrage the locals. If you lose your job as an investment banker, you just be unemployed for a year or two until another one comes around. Your family may have to sacrifice a vacation for this. With very few exceptions, everyone is white.
People are quick and for the most part, avoid people who aren't immediate members of their social circles. The locals are gifted with the magical ability to instantly detect the net value of a stranger and base interactions with that person on the result. It is because of this, and a number of other small quirks that I much prefer there to here. The schools here are the best in the country and every 5 year old is expected to be proficient in golf, tennis, piano, a foreign language, and at least one type of dance. Crime is more or less nonexistent.
Everyone is very upset that a construction site in one of the 5 parks is creating a big eyesore. I can not stop myself from feigning concern about this issue.
"Oh, I know! It's awful! A real problem, about that truck in the park. Such an eyesore! Our children deserve better. Also, a pregnant woman was shot in the face on the steps of the church in my neighborhood last week! Yep, we're all facing some real problems. Best of luck with the park situation though, eh?"
I can't help myself, silly goose troll that I am. The disparity in quality of life is what it is, and I guess it's always set up this way. We all have our complaints, we sure as hell do. In typical fashion, I don't quite fit anywhere. Where there's a crack to fall through, I'm sure to fall every time. I prefer it that way.
How can someone so loving be such a grouch? In defense of Oscar, there's so much more to us grouches than our grouchiness. More on that another day.
xoxoxox
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
It seems that the class gap is widening worldwide. I seriously worry about how this is gonna end.