Cows and Call-Girls

Ah, the suburbs. Home to both the wealthy and the not-so-wealthy, but mostly.. the wealthy. But Do people actually enjoy living there? Well, surely it depends I suppose. The decision to reside in suburbia may be made for the right or wrong reason. Right being in the sense that they may adore New York City or Los Angeles, and therefore enjoy living in great proximity to these respective cities but not necessarily in them, yet they also may not want to completely isolate themselves from modern life as we know it and lice in a one-story red paint-chipped barn ranch bungalow where the cow (wandering upon their prairie-esque grass) has more teeth than their "neighbor" who lives 872 acres away. Now one may wonder, well, what is this "wrong" in deciding to live in lovely suburbia? None other than the fact that they think their family is just the darnest, swellest, most idyllic perfect family where both the kids are on the honor roll, the father is a religious holy figure at the local church, and the mother is a stay-at-home mother, who vacuums for pleasure. And but of course, since they are just oh so lovely and oh so peachy, they must live in the perfect little area where the biggest (known) conspiracy  is someone's lawn getting a dry patch behind their perfect white picket fence, right?

Ha. Maybe this family is only perfect on the outside. Maybe the father is going to a hotel for a ... erm "church retreat" when in reality he is downing Jose Cuervo with the bleached-blonde call-girls perched upon his lap while his wife cries to herself on her lovely perfect couch with the clear plastic cover that protects the paisley upholstery while her porcelain tea cup of searing hot secrets spill. 

Now, also on the coffee table are the pill canisters; the same ones that the kids steal from only so the pills can intoxicate their young brains while running through their young veins because their parents won't buy them a brand new Jaguar. Tear. 

This family is doomed the day they attend the open house and praise the paisley couch. Then their life will slip down the chrome drain of their Jacuzzi bathtub. And all for what? Pride? Because their ego is so high they could not be seen living elsewhere because nowhere else is quite good enough? Maybe it's dignity. Only some can answer, but their lives are slithering down that chrome drain into oblivion. Suburban life  is good for one thing: the brutal destruction of a perfect family by the weapon of corruption. 

tell me your opinion.

i read a very interesting article today on men's greatest fear being the fear that in the end they will amount to nothing, no matter how much they have achieved. it's very very interesting, i suggest you read it. do people agree that this is man's greatest fear?

http://content.jqscorp.com?p=79

Waiting to Exhale

I remember it all. Vividly.

I was at East Restaurant Japanese and Asian Fusion (sadly that is the name of the restaurant) in Berkeley Heights. Our reservation was at 7. Two friends and I were going for  one last dinner before one of them left for France. I checked my phone every 29 seconds to see if there was an update on the status of our future.

Then It happened. At 7:27. I was trembling to open it. Yeah- that one I'd been checking for every 29 seconds. Inhale. "McCain up 16-3." Shit. I waited for the exhale but it didn't come. I started typing in "Canadian real estate" on my phone. And Canada sucks. I'm Canadian I'm allowed to say that. No, but really. Sarah Palin, the woman who thinks she has credible and decent foreign policies because she can see Russia from her house, was just one of McCain's last heartbeats away from running the country. I could barely bring myself to finish eating the spider rolls that I had been craving for weeks. And for me not to finish food- wow- it never happens. The rest of dinner I was in such a frazzled state of mind that I had forgotten to check my future entirely, let alone every 29 seconds. I have no idea how I drove home in that state of mind and managed to stay in one piece. 

I raced up the fourteen stairs from the garage and threw myself at the brown leather couch in my living room. My eyes glued to the television. The last thing on my mind was my homework, though it was the first on my mother's mind. Typical. I agreed to go up between poll closing times so I wouldn't miss anything. Within one hour, the polls skyrocketed. Complete reversal, which is actually rather cliche for an election. But anyway- Obama was up 189 to 86 electoral votes. Sarah Palin probably got her shotgun mounted to the wall and started shooting more moose. She may have even been too upset to eat squirrel. 

But at 10 P.M., it was over. Five electoral votes from the traditionally Bush-loving Republican state, Nevada, put Barack Obama to 270 votes exactly. Once again, I found it hard for myself to find the ability to breathe. I closed my eyes and shook my head trying to see if this was actually happening. To see if this country elected an African American man who had been accused of being a "socialist terrorist." But as it turns out, it was reality. It hit me when the words "In America, our destiny is inextricably linked, together our dreams can be one" came from our new President's mouth. America had elected Barack Obama with a majority of 347 electoral votes to 196. I inhaled, but this time I had the ability to exhale.

Ha.

People find me intimidating. I find that to be hilarious. I open doors onto my face, and I'm a little bit too nice sometimes. Yet evidently I'm intimidating. Rar. 

write side

i spur the most extremes of actions

to have me is somewhat

;73.23.. noRmal

whisper. i'm part of your brain.

i'm one fraction of it.

potentially .51342

but to use me.

much different.

   i can activate odd conversations

does who you are define what you do

or.

do your actions define you.

?

but it's neither.

it's how you do it.

it's how you use me. 

may life be groovy

I love you world, everything

about you.

But who am i? Who are you?

Whoever you are and whoever I

am,

we share commons.

we are equal 

equal to everything and every

one.

You could be the idealistic American white picket fence family where the grass is the

greenest

Or you could be the convict in the orange jumpsuit with the black serial number printed on your right

chest.

but you would still be the world.

And now you ask what is the world?

You am the world, I are the world

World, we are everything.

We are the extra crunchy burnt auburn colored leaf I went out of my way to step on, you are the flame-broiled steak with the A1 steak sauce smothered on me, they are even the light bulb illuminating the pastel green room of the house with the pickets

The world is everything you and I want it 

to be.

Life is everything we want it to be.

Let it be groovy, and let our body baste in a bath filled of everlasting happiness. 

bloodless fight

day one.

she protests as the wind wraps around her wrinkly waves of clothes

the men in the black structured hats and the black slacks try to hold her back

day two.

she goes back to the rally for she and everyone knows

that nobody can hold her back.. no not the things in black

day three.

she chains her wrist to the tree and will never go down without a bloodless fight

the evil things could carry her away while she screams 'lets make peace'

day four.

she has the enemies saying 'imagine if this girl is right.

we could make nice and the pointless deaths would cease'

day five.

now her story and smiling worn face is on every biased conglomerated news station

and she smiles knowing she extinguished the flames of an angry nation