The Humans in the Walls

I don’t believe it is my responsibility to go over and meet my new neighbors. After all, I was here first, and I don’t really care for people all that much. If that sounds odd to you because you know that I work in the Customer Service Industry, then you are an idiot. For the record, most people who work with the public all day really don’t want to be around people when they are not getting paid for it. Or at least, that’s how I feel. And I project my feelings onto a majority of other retail workers so I seem like less of an asshole. It’s the only way I can get through most days. Don’t judge me. Or do. Whatever.

I have mowed the entire front lawn of my duplex twice now. That is my greeting to you, dear neighbors. That will be all you get. Also, I picked up your beer can instead of just shredding it with my Elderly 5 Horsepower Lawnmower. And I really like running over stuff with my lawnmower. So that was a bonus just for you. You’re welcome.

I don’t do well with new people. But I guess this is more of a recent development. I have reached a point in my life where I’m pretty sure I’ve already met everyone who will make an impact on me. But that’s mostly because I’m jaded. And also a recluse.

* * * * * *

I’ve been on The Twitter and FaceSpace for about a year now. Between the two, I definitely prefer Twitter. It’s quick n’ easy. No Farmtown gardening tips, no Owl Vision horoscopes, no requests for Mafia Battles. Twitter is just post something amusing, post a pic, post a thought, done. It’s both disconnected and comforting to me.

FaceSpace on the other hand, is TOO connected. Some people constantly update about what they are doing at that very second. All day long. What makes this worse is I feel the need to read it. In some cases, I care. But all too often, I feel like I’m reading someone’s personal diary. The diary of someone whom I work with and see everyday. Sometimes, it feels like watching your parents fuck. But other times, it can be like watching the cute redhead who lives across the street fuck.

And then being able to comment on it.

* * * * * *

I have recently been wanting to read again, but I’m pretty sure that’s only so I can justify buying a Kindle. I just got done reading “Slackjaw” by Jim Knipfel. It’s a self-described “disease book” about the author going blind. This is a subject to which I have more than just a fleeting interest. The book I started just today is “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” by Mark Haddon. I literally bought this book because it contained diagrams (and also because it was only 50¢). It is a “murder mystery” of sorts, written in the first-person by an autistic 15 year old. What can I say? It grabbed me. There is a certain aspect of autism which I completely understand sometimes; the inability to understand most Human Social Interactions.

There will be days at The Store when I watch two people who obviously don’t like each other carry on a 10 minute conversation. I don’t understand this. It is like watching Badly Written Television. The interactions are forced; surreal. It makes me wonder why people carry on like that. What makes these instances even better is when I overhear one party talking to their spouse after their “friend” leaves: “Can you believe so-and-so? What a horrible person! Did you hear what they did to so-and-so?”

So that’s probably why I won’t be making contact with my new neighbors. I know it is probably the Nice Thing To Do, but that would be phony of me. I don’t really care who lives on the other side of me, as long as I’m not bothered by them, and they aren’t bothered by me. That’s why I mowed the entire lawn.

I don’t necessarily want to watch everyone fuck.

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About burgerhockey

I write things. You read them. You comment. It saddens me. The Internet abides.
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