Home Is Where The Hard Is

We (the collective one) are bored. Life has taken on some form of undynamic, blah persona and just kind of sits there staring back, saying nothing. It's a really awkward silence. The silence is broken, however, by the sound of beer cans popping like balloons at a crying child's birthday and the lovely sounds of young country (shitty rock) emanating through the front door as of late.

Here are the topics discussed in front of my apartment:
1) High school football games and kickers.
2) "Mama and Randall"
3) Online dating, both match.com and Yahoo! personals

This is what I hear while I don sweatpants and worship my television. I don't know why I bother with my television when I have thirtysomething and Intervention going on right outside my door, but sweats feel safer and distance limits my interactivity in entertainment. It's better to watch sometimes than partake in the action. Actually, in recent moments, that's the rule of thumb. Let someone else put on the clown wig and party king crown and run their own court. I'd like to watch for a while.

One neighbor is definitely going through some shit and putting down some serious booze. Power to him, but when he came home with a thirty pack of Keystone Light, I got both nostalgic and empathetic. He has been finding solace in Internet dating and is more than happy to show me pictures of boobs and talk about his dates, though. The Internet dating and weeknight drinking are just reinforcers to avoidance. A nice meal and four hours on the xbox is way preferred. I don't see that a solution lies at the end of his path, but who knows. Life is not known for being just or predictable.

Other neighbor has a high school crush on the new neighbor from Alabama. She's got the weirdest accent one has ever heard and he's like 50 something and she is way out of her element, so I can see the motive. It's actually kind of cute to watch. Everyday after work they end up sitting on the stairs in front of my apartment and shootin' the shit, but everytime I see it, I can't help but picture bleachers and varsity jackets. The other weirdness is about how she made out with me the first night we met and went out whiskey drinking with the other neighbor. I'm not interested because I could fit into her jeans. She caught me whiskey drunk is all. I don't do that anymore and I was the out-of-elementee in that situation.

So, anyway, everyone of her stories that I hear ringing through my flimsy door is about "mama," Randall, or involves a pig and a quad. Dude, Alabama is no joke. They are stuck in a timequake, man. Imagine the worst you could about backwardness, ignorance and the and a hateful Jesus and you will come to about the third ring in that Dante's Inferno.

So, yeah, I'm finger pointing today, but I had to write and these things do affect me. I do nothing, but sleep anymore and have kind of introverted, which is very uncharacteristic. I just think this shit is getting old and it may be time to move somewhere a little more socially motivating. I've got to clean up my own backyard before I start venturing out of it, but I'm close. The rough spots are getting smaller and more isolated and it's been a while since I woke up with a penis drawn on my chest or a stranger in my house. These are good things. They are starting points. I just feel like there could be a more productive and fulfilling place where I could set up shop. I feel like I'm constantly in a hurry to get out of what I'm doing, but to go do nothing. It turns out I just don't want to be doing what I'm doing a lot.

Otherwise, everything is perfect.