How the poor and rich drink

Posted: August 24, 2010 in Uncategorized

Today I went with my small family to the welfare officeand was reminded of how shitty life can be, but it’s not what I made for myself but the will of people with power.

In this building I was looking at all these young mothers, and then at my sister, and I wondered why shit like this happened. And I wondered about how people who are inside of these buildings felt. Did they feel like failures, property of the system? Did they ever think that they didn’t screw themselves over and how people in power aren’t exactly being nice to us because they put us in this type of environment in the fdirst place and to me keep us there, and I think they created this place just so they can be a leader or owner of something else too.

And in this building I remember a guy laying down, maybe Eastern European and how the guard told him not not lay down because, well he was abusing his power just like the time in Barnes and Noble where the guard that told the two old friends that hadn’t seen each other to not sit down on the floor and then later to not stand up near the windows, and then later to not move the chairs, and then told me I could sit down in the empty chair instead of standing up because I guess power is utter bullshit and controls all of our lives.

Anyway, the guy laying down was shouting how he’d been waiting over two hours for his bus tokens and frankly he shouldn’t be waiting 2 hours for bus tokens. Frankly, I don’t think the bus should cost so much. If this pattern continues, only rich ppl could afford to take public transportation, which kind of defeats the purpose of it.

Well one the saddest parts was when the guy from the fingerprint area called my name and told me to place the right index finger on the red pad thing. And to look at the camera. And I thought about how maybe when it was other people’s turn they may have smiled. And maybe that didn’t really make sense becaus it just doesn’t make sense to be positive at that place. And I realized we’re like machines and in a factory of some kind. No hi’s or goodbye’s just ‘sign here’ and put your 3 dollar index finger there, motherfucker; and close the door on your way out.

The degradation is visible if you choose to see it, but it’s an elephant in the room.

And going back to the title of this post, I feel like when the very rich drink it’s at places like the Tiger or Union Club, or maybe at Bohemian Grove, and how maybe theyd be laughing over drinks and decisions. And how maybe the poor drink alone and on a couch and maybe their skin is dark brown or black and how we never laugh when we drink, because there’s nothing worth laughing about. Especially during days like these, where you realize how the will of God isn’t what I thought it was. That He didn’t make my life this way. That our enemy just might be His too.

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