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the big IF
The 24/7 crack house across the street is just too much most of the time. They sit in their cars for hours playing their systems. It shakes the pictures on my walls, moves our table out from the wall, shakes my nervous system. I've had to ask them to turn it down. I've called the cops on them. The cops here don't do shit. Really, compared to Minnesota, where they come with guns drawn on a noise complaint in the middle of the day, this is weird. Cops here don't do shit, either good or bad.
I hate it here. I don't want to be here. I am so fucking pissed off at my life and I find myself doing the same thing I did when I worked at the hotel.
Thinking of all the people in the world that have it worse off. People with no food, with no roof over their head, people getting tortured. Maybe I am just a spoiled American Midwesterner, but I am also a crazy person and all this noise, all the time is not helping. Maybe I should let the doctors dope me up so I just don't care anymore.
They never sleep. It really is almost 24/7. People coming and going. It's worse than the school we used to live across from. At least that place closed down by 6 PM. Sometimes the crack house is so busy there's no parking anywhere in the neighborhood. People circle the block waiting for someone to leave so they can park closer to the front door like it's a department store or something.
I might as well live next to a gas station. That's what it feels like. Except there's not gas fumes. But there's the drug dealing and the cars and the noise and the crime. People fucking in cars in the middle of the day. People doing drugs in the lawn, in their cars. Fist fights in the yard. It's a great retard circus with a twist of dope.
I haven't made any resolutions. But if I were to do so, it would be to save money. Really stop the crazy manic/depressive shopping sprees. I need to save money. I need to save, save, save so I can get the hell out of this trap that is city life.
I'm not asking for much. Just a few acres where I can just have some peace.
Our friends back in MN have almost 100 acres. A private stream. Woods and organic farm and buildings where they grow their oyster mushrooms. Their family is descended from Nazis, and they get this. Tell me that life isn't fair. They said their grandfather was in the SS and he paid to get out of Germany a day before he was supposed to be brought to "trial". And he gets out of his death warrant, he gets beautiful land in one of the nicest parts of the country, and it keeps going on down the line.
Now, these farmers we know are very nice people, but how is this fair? A few generations away from one of the worst type of person the world has ever known, and they get the highest point of land in Olmsted county.
Seriously. They do. They live at the top of the hill of the highest point in the county. And what do I get?
Non-stop noise and garbage and crack hoes and a hoarded out house with bad plumbing and a property in the middle of a big-ish city with no trees.
I'm not exactly sure what family karma I have, exactly, but I am pretty sure there's no nazis in my blood. My family was in this country long before all that happened.
And yesterday my husband decides he's going to quit smoking. Really? A few days before you move your studio into the house, you are going to quit doing something you've been doing for 30 years, give or take?
I am so fed up. Just really. Fuck it all. Don't tell me things will get better. I'll believe that fucking lie when it happens. If. If it happens.
2:44 PM - Friday, Jan. 22, 2021
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