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 A WORD FROM OUR FOUNDER

 

            

In regards to my usage of the drug...

 

So, back to the big paint splatter on the side of my neighbor’s house…he finally noticed.

  I was torn on whether or not to fess up to the black splatter on the white siding but i was leaning towards admitting fault- 1. there is clearly a trail leading from my upper porch down the side of my house onto his house, and 2. I usually like the times I’m a jerk to be on purpose.  I fucked up his house, I might as well be white about it and offer to repaint it.  if nothing else it’s an excuse to use my paint gun and probably make an even bigger mess.

 

At around 9:00 am he comes up and nocks on the door, waking me up from a painkiller induced slumber.  While groggily wandering over to the door I try to figure out who it could be, as I don’t get many visitors.    I figure it’s the fed ex guy so my guard is down and I open the door to find the assclown with his arms crossed angrily and he blathers out “any idea what happened to the side of the house?”   At this point I genuinely have no idea what he’s talking about, I am half awake and like I say, far into my half a painkiller purple haze.

 

I responed “what happened to my house?”

 

“no, MY house”

 

“…how do I know what happened to YOUR house?…what happened to your house?”

 

“the big paint splatter…on the side…you wouldn’t know anything about that would you” he prods in an accusatory fashion.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”  as I say that my brain finishes  rebooting and I start to remember the container of paint…the wind storm, the groan I let out the first time I saw the splatter…but I’m already well into a lie and not really functional enough to switch gears…screw it I’m lying, might as well go with it, his fault for asking me anything before noon.

“oh that…I know it’s on my house too (I’m gambling here that he didn’t have the presence of mind to look up at my porch) and it’s been there for two months”

 

“yeah, sure…” he grumbles and wander off.

 

At that point I’m figuring he’s gonna call the alderman or take me to small claims court, which I have coming but instead he calls the city and complains that my yard is “unkept”.

 

That seems to be the extent of his wrath.  I should happy at that but a big part of me only sees that he has shown weakness and has decide to kill his newly planted bush.

 

I think it might be some grand balance of the universe that obstinate, twice a week lawn mowers, like him always end up living next to lowlife jerks like me.  we cancel each other out.   He pays to have his lawn professionally serviced; I let debris from a broken t.v. Blow into it.  in the end his lawn looks average from the care minus the abuse.  My lawn look average from the abuse plus the perfect soil it gets from the compost that formed from the pears I never picked up last fall.  He tries to attract more birds than normal with his bird feeder; the squires from my pear tree chase them off.  He tries to have a nicer house than the rest of the neighborhood, I let paint fly off my porch and ruin it.  Now that I think about it I’m a vital part of this eco system.  it’s a symbiotic relationship in a way, I’m protecting him from larger predators…if he had the only nice house on the block people would break into it.   he owes me a thank you.

 

And that is the beauty of rationalizing…now if you’ll excuse me I have a leave pile to burn just before I take another painkiller nap.

 

 

comments? concerns?

douglaspasz@gmail.com

myspace.com/douglasarseniclullaby

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