![[Gasp]](images/Job.jpg)
July 19, 2000
The Hookers Went Home...The Drugs Are Gone...
My Pockets and Gas Tank are Empty...
... So, I'm donning a tailored suit
And a Happy-go-Yuppie attitude
And hitting the office scene
To earn some corporate, secretarial cash..
And if I'm lucky,
I'll score big with one of the Dilbert-esque hotties
Lurking around the coffee machine.
And that's life.
Summer's gotten me down,
The lack of structure, the heat, the tedium;
It's made me moody...
I'm aching for people in unusual ways...
I want everyone I meet to just hold me and rock me
And tell me everything's gonna be okay...
Which gets awkward
Around Strangers;
They suspect I'm looking at them funny.
They shift around and look uneasy.
I'm lonely...
..But I avoid my calls,
And don't return messages.
Maybe I just ate some weird chemicals somewhere.
I feel like all I ever do is look at porn,
go to the movies,
go to see music,
eat,
and sleep.
For the first time in my life,
I am fully acquainted with my dog's daily schedule.
I get as excited as he does now
When the mailman comes.
I go for walks around my neighborhood when I wake up,
I look at all the houses on my street filled with people
I don't know,
That don't know me.
It's weird that the people we live closest to,
Tend to be strangers.
Every now and then there's a furtive glance exchanged
When somebody comes out to wash the car,
Water the lawn,
Walk the dog;
But mostly we do everything we can to try and pretend that
The other people on the block don't exist...
We have more fences than a prison system.
..It's just alienating.
I want to knock on someone's door one day while I'm out walking,
Bake them a pie and introduce myself without them
Asking what I'm selling,
What religion I'm with,
Calling the cops,
Or assuming I'm some sort of Pie-Pervert.
There are so many good reasons to be on good,
Friendly terms with the people who spend more hours
Geographically near you than anyone else.
I've eaten dinner kilometers away from these people,
Regularly and for over a decade.
I'm close enough to hear my neighbor's telephone ring;
To hear one neighboor blow his nose every night,
(It makes this eerie trumpeting sound)
To smell my neighboors smoking,
Barbequeing,
Fertilizing their lawn...
Yet I've never shared a meal with a single one of them,
I don't even know most of their names.
This isolation is just creepy.
It must end now.
I've got eight apple pies in the oven,
And I'm planning a full-out assault of good will...
That's all for now;
I send you all the most cheery of good-neighboorly vibes.
And, For a special bit on how I feel about Porn,
Go Here
Otherwise, Hurrah For Anything.
Go Home
This site is always under construction.
Contact happens at:
Silence Bellows@yahoo.com
Come back and collect your lost marbles...
Peepin' Toms
What I want to know is, Are You Kind?
