The neighborhood was a debt trap.
Somebody built the houses all the same—big white houses, with square green lawns, snaking black driveways, and cul-de-sacs curled-up, like black mambas.
The professionals and children who lived there were all lazy. It was a necessary lethargy, because too much energy made the bosses and the teachers uncomfortable. A zombie is easy to control. An Orangutang, hangs-out.
There were shopping-malls to go to on the weekends, and don’t forget the golf courses.
With the bills needing to be paid, and the cars in the shop, time was flying-by, like a drunk crow. Teenagers watched horror movies about serial killers—those ravaged homeless druggies, who couldn’t fit into society, or the well-adjusted white male, in his mid-thirties, in a shirt, and tie, and black pants, who went about his business, which could be anything.
The misunderstood man, the man nobody listens to, the man running out of time, has to find a way to deal with fast food lines, in the bumper-to-bumper drive-through, with rising gas prices, and political slogans.
You hope he’s not a gun enthusiast.
If he’s an author, you are generally safe.
He bangs it out on a typewriter, like a machine-gun in a shopping mall. He hits the return button, and an atomic bomb, lets him know, he’s still alive.
He writes the next line.
What is wrong with society?
Not enough imagination.
If we didn’t have the crazies, telling us what to think, telling us who to hate, telling us what to want, society would be an interesting place.
The houses would not look the same.
Professionals would connect with each other, instead of over the internet.
A man would not feel the need to terrorize a city with sniper practice.
There would be the most beautiful stories being told, in the leprechaun bars.
I write these lines with the full knowledge that people I know, might read my blog.
It’s the thrill I need to get through the next day.
The man who asks himself if he is crazy, is the sanest man under the sun.
The man who never doubts his sanity, is totally insane, especially, if he lives in society.
6 thoughts on “The man who never doubts his sanity, is totally insane, especially, if he lives in society.”
I am continually impressed by your writing. Good stuff.
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Thanks Aaron! I’m glad that you enjoy it!!! 🙂
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Thanks, Karenhoffen!!! 🙂
reminds em of a quote from something… what if i told you insanity is working 9/5 5 days a week for 40 years
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Yes. If you weren’t insane before you did that, you have to be insane now.