Tuesday

I was driving down the road earlier today, and I saw a bunch of stuff strewn up and down the sidewalk in front of this comparatively low rent, high-rise apartment building. Some person or some family had been evicted. There were people milling around, picking through the stuff, taking things, walking away all gleeful. I don’t think I saw any of the evictees around. They would have been pretty easy to identify, and these other sniffing fuckers wouldn't be quite so audacious if the evictees were still around.

I can imagine the sad sad scene when the evictees were still there standing around – like right before they walked away to a bus stop or whatever - leaving just about all of their shit behind. What do you do when your ass is OUT, and all your stuff is getting thrown on the sidewalk by some dead hearted, scary looking gang of goons? And your kids are running around crying and screaming, and other residents are staring at you, and cars are slowing down and sarcastic ass holes honking horns, and the sky is clouding up really sinister and already you are feeling some rain drops - and your possesions look weird and foreign to you outdoors with rain splattering on them and the problem – THE PROBLEM – whatever it is that caused you to get evicted – that reason, your understanding of it, your feeling about it – is pissing warmly down your spine – the worse feeling – the worse combination of the worse feelings on the worse day of your life.

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