I was told that there was a scorpion in the driveway this morning and a ladybug hanging upside down in the kitchen window.
My Kurdish friend is going to do my hair tomorrow. I put off carving into my haystack until here because I wanted herto do it. She's a Paul Mitchell big wig who is tired of event planning and wants to get back into the creative aspects of hair. I'm the perfect candidate because I have a shitload of hair and apparently my natural shade is one step removed from the lightest shade possible.. except Albinos I guess.
This house I am staying in is large. 3,000 square feet or so. There is a neighborhood committee that requires that you tell them if you are going to build a deck, soften your water, or do anything funky with the landscaping. Funky might mean something like put a strange bush too close to the curb.
The neighbors on one side are referred to as the Taliban, because they didn't bring a cake when these guys moved in and they didn't wave back. The response? Dress in a burkah and trickor treat and then put a large crucifix in the yard at Xmas time.... Yeah... Not a Metropolis. Apparently these guys have a green beret friend that informed them that "They don't wave becasuse you are the Infidel and they want to kill you." If you could only see this neighborhood... A sleeper cell? How fucking absurd.
I am not saying that I want a purple house. I want the option to paint my house purple. I am not saying that having a zealot for a neighbor bothers me, but I would prefer Muslim to Christian. I would really prefer nothing to everything else. Nothing to everything else.
I am tired of bared teeth and gutted glimpses of little nuclear families... set in their fashion. Set in their diabolical and safe communities in the middle of nowhere. The only additive being fear and consumer comfort and stale renditions of atypical fight songs to ward off the unknown.
How could you sit in a small stadium watcing Junior score a point if everyone on the bleachers next to you were closet fags and openly prickish? How could that be progress? How could that be where you want to go? Tennis? Are you kidding? Do you file that under Athletics or Down Syndrome? (My apologies to Down Syndrome.)
I guess I don't miss it here. I felt like an alien looking at new products on the shelf at the most basic grocery store. Still I was trapped in some ADD like haze as I tried to figure out what the fuck I needed. None of it was to live. I wasn't stealing tortillas and cheese anymore to live an extra day. I have credit cards I was ashamed to display.
I am moving back to pen and paper. Screw this mechanical dissent.