“There is no use in hearing the term ‘apartment complex’ unless it is taken immediately to mean a syndrome, a fiesta of symptoms.” – Gary Lutz, “Femme”
The cure is flight and/or avoidance
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2 thoughts on “The cure is flight and/or avoidance”
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I didn’t grow up in an apartment complex, but a building of ten units that my mother owned and ran. That was fiesta enough. Seemed like the whole cavalcade of human suffering) paraded through our kitchen door to pay the rent, or explain why they couldn’t. We once found about a half-pound baggie of PURE cocaine tucked under the carpeting after a tenant ran off without paying. Or maybe he didn’t leave, he just never came back.
A half-pound of pure cocaine will pay a lot of rent. Sounds like he was running for his life, what with him leaving that stash behind.
The first apartment I had was when I was a strung-out eighteen-year-old, part of that cavalcade of human suffering. It was in a war zone in El Paso. When I ran, all I left behind was a trash can I had puked in and never cleaned out, and the photos of the Beatles that came with the White Album and I had taped to the wall.