“Hi, How’er you doing?” (please don’t answer that)



Suburbs

Nothing saps your energy like the suburbs! You become complacent and walk in the shadow of  anger; you are castrated by the mundane sameness of each. I look down the cul de sac and I see no one….I feel indifference coming from house to house. The only way I know someone cares is when some unknown unseen person’s dog shits in my yard. This stirs my civil action and energized my civil unrest…. I dare someone invade my pursuit of nothingness. I dare someone come into my space and shit “by golly” on me.

I find more emotional connection to this place when some unknown dog shits on my yard. Ring my doorbell motherfucker and tell me; this place is home to the living dead.

There is something to be valued about the suburbs and that it its artificial nature and pleasantries. A wavy here, a hello there, and occasionally, a subversive fuck you (whispered). I sometimes find myself visiting other cities, and in another neighborhoods looking for a family which I know lived there, the “Niggards”. I’ll stop at the convenience store and ask, if they knew where the “Niggards” reside. They all know. Each time I asked, they’d said you mean the black people. And I’d respond, nah muthafuka, in my southern dialectic vernacular prose, “nah”.



I cut the grass each week and I paint that damn house every five years. I pay the taxes twice a year, because it’s easier for someone else to count money twice and add it all up twice. It’s confusing I know. I get the paper delivered everyday, I hate that motherfuka! But I need it to seed my anger and discontent to keep me alive in this bucolic jail.  Skip past the front page, obituaries and read the same old crap by the same old crappy people…pleasantries, tah, tah.

JB

But  I digress…