The Suburbs
It’s
the suburban war that makes me say, “You really bought into the game.” It’s the
stay at home moms popping Xanax in their minivans before taking their children
to soccer practice. It’s the students crying over a B-, or the ones that snort
their PRESCRIBED Adderall for their apparent ADD. It’s the disconnect between
these people and themselves. No rationalization from one of their personas to
the next. I mean, who fuck are you, a soccer mom or a junkie? Their rational for their actions is to take
away the pain of having to compromise ones values for others. But the façade is
so cheap. Couldn’t you at least spend a little more money on a better veneer
than that cheap stucco you bought at Home Depot? Or rather, why not just loose
the façade entirely? If the suburbs are really just a prostitute dressed up for
tea time, I’d rather hear stories about that one time when “NSFW,”[1] than,
“How great it was that Stephanie finally got rid of the Christmas decorations
in front of her house after 3 months.” I often fear that the scripts these
actors play will eventually become truth, because at that point, all meaning
dissipates from life. That’s what reminds me of the game. These poor people are
getting lost in their own maze perfectly groomed by their gardener Juan. You
really bought into the game, haven’t you?
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