woke up at 6am. had a coffee. had a shit. a little small talk with my wife. kissed her and then kissed my dog and left the house for another 12 hr grind. cutting grass and raking leaves. cold wet leaves. lawns filled with dog shit and shitty toys. shitty broken down trampolines and shitty broken down hockey nets. suburban living at it’s finest where every house looks exactly the same. a nice shade of dull brown as it’s base. nothing to stand out from the crowd. rows and rows of jail cells filled with rows and rows of broken down prisoners. as i was passing my fourth prison cell two old ladies with old boring clothes passed me on the sidewalk. i smiled. they smiled back. one had two missing teeth and a look of fear in her eyes. the other just a look of extreme struggle. the missing toothed woman handed me a pamphlet. an old cheap pamphlet with some message from god. i, politely, took it and, politely, threw it in the garbage. i wondered how these two ladies became door to door salesmen for the church. i wondered why these salesmen are always old, lost, depressing looking women.
do they believe in god?
really?
they were old.
they were sad looking.
they were lonely looking.
but they were also two cute old ladies walking down the sidewalk with a purpose of some sort and, that alone, brought a smile to my face.
we finished cutting the grass of one row of shit stained houses and then drove over to the next SUBURBAN TOWN.
same town.
same houses.
same colours on the houses.
same shit in the backyards.
most of the people living in these shitty houses smoked.
most drank shitty beer.
most were overweight.
looked haggard.
beaten down.
looked liken they had long ago given up on life.
some had big expensive trucks in their tiny driveways.
we pulled out our lawnmowers and started cutting grass. trimming the edges. picking up leaves. more shit. big shit. more shit. lots of shit.
the suburbs and it’s prisoners love dogs.
love coors light.
love smoking.
hate trudeau.
hate picking up dog shit.
and many love their weed.
we cut the front lawns. cut the back.
i saw a posting for a missing cat. i lost two cats when i was a kid. both were named DUSTY. one day they just disappeared. two cats. two different times. never found them. never knew what happened to them. they were with us for years and then they just disappeared. not sure why we chose to name both cats DUSTY. odd.
we finished cutting the remaining houses on the boring strip and went to our next row of boring houses twenty minutes away.
same houses.
same streets.
same trucks.
same mess.
same kids.
same dogs.
same lives.
so depressing.
so dull.
so sad.
we pulled our lawnmowers off the truck and did our same routine.
cut.
trim.
blow.
pick up leaves.
step in dog shit.
we had a few chats with a few neighbours. the weirdo at one end of the complex who had a cane corso/pit bull mixed dog. no job. hot beaten down wife who hated that she settled for “him.” the “FUCK TRUDEAU GUY.” at first i thought that he was a buffoon but, after talking with him for twenty minutes, i changed my mind. good guy. good energy. funny. respectful. him and his neighbour DO NOT get along. they put rope up between their houses instead of a wooden fence. money an issue. but they don’t talk. the one guy has two large marijuana plants in his backyard but the “FUCK TRUDEAU” guy says that his weed is shitty. hahahaha
people always competing.
always barking.
always judging.
always fighting.
always struggling.
always working.
always hoping.
hoping for a better life and a better future while laying on the couch watching the kardashians.
we left the suburban town.
we left the broken down homes with the broken down people. the shit filled backyards.
we drove an hour south to get to my shitty suburban town. i made it home. let my dog out for a shit. didn’t pick it up. opened up a bottle of bourbon and drank my sorrows away.
tomorrow will be a new day.
god grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change. the courage to change the things i can. and the wisdom to know the difference.
amen.
notanotherphony. 