Hit and Run

DSC00003In my own neck of the woods some development has been under way for years, turning a once fairly serene place into what feels like a cage.

See, I’ve been glancing at this fancy ad all around here–on billboards, walls, shop windows. It shows a new residential area, enticing as only an ad can make one seem.

This particular ad shows a hip dude walking his mountain bike, wearing shades and all, though it’s already getting dark. You know the what I mean. Then we have some folks discussing heaven knows what near the entrance to their building. Another star–this time a dude in a black suit, what else–is reigning over the neigborhood from his balcony above and in the back.

But all of these people are just an insignificant afterthought–mere add-ons to the splendor of a development scheme.

So what really stands out is not the people. But it’s not even the buildings themselves, either. Instead, what really makes itself seen is a certain absence–the absence of fences, gates, security booths, or cameras. There ain’t none of that in there. DSC00001

Reality check. Some of that development wonder has already been put into place here over the past fifteen years. Only it looks nothing like the ad.

Instead, it looks, as my friend put it once, like a fucking ghetto. Fence on a fence on a fence. Folks wheezing in their cars right by all this and into the underground garage. And then right from there into their apartment, without ever showing their face outside. Hardly ever does anyone hang out around here.

There’s no community here–not in these parts of the area. There’s only people with “stay the fuck away” attitudes, hiding out in their respective fortresses of solitude.

These folks are nice and cultured. Well, “mass-cultured.” They won’t rob or stab you. In fact, they won’t even talk to you. They don’t know each other. They don’t want to. That’s how this space has been organized. Into a fortress. Built for profit, it brings just that. You know what it looks like even more than a fortress, though?

A jailhouse. DSC00002

There’s even a court in the middle of it, though you can’t access it unless you pass through one of the closed gates.

Jailhouse.

Or go around. The court is almost always empty, no matter the weather. Now, If I ever catch anyone there–not passing through, actually being there–I swear I’ll take a pic of that and put it up here as acknowledgement of the developer’s not-so-utter failure.

Meanwhile, my comment is this: What a damn good recipe for isolation! What a great tactic to keep the community dead!

Jailhouse!

But the developers do not care, right? In fact, this plays right into their cunning hands. Once the fence is done and polished, they’re out forever.

If you look into the far background in the third picture, you’ll see what? That’s right, more of the same shit being built. Another hit-and-run.

I get that people need homes. I’m writing this from the cosy interior of a real home. So I get it.

But not like this, not like this. Folks–maybe good people, I don’t know–are left with mortgages to pay for years on end. Putting in work, getting tired of it all, trapped in cycles where they really could not care about how they were sucked in.

They just want out. Too bad. They only got locked in.

Waitin’ on those midlife crises? Oh, they’re comin’!

This entry was posted in (anti-)politics, body/somaticity, relationality and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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