Such are the dark and desrerate sides of me packed neatly into little packages and lugged around. Like tiny little presents in disguise, waiting for those few trusted souls to take a peak inside. As If I'm something work cracking open. I tend to smell foul at times. I admit this. Unlike my long time girlfriend and room mate, "Patty". I call her "Patty Pretentious" behind her back. Looking at me she can rest quite smuggly in my imperfections. All the while ignorning her own. The truth is, I hate people like this . The type of people you might find lounging around all day at the Yaht Club. The women lounging around the pool side all day , sporting their phony plastic botoxed smiles. Under a perfectly applied coat of lipstick. I bet their faces would crack like a Porclean china Tea cup, if they were to actually reflect a real heart felt smile. Even the music they listen to is void of lyrics. Maybe they think the lyrics we, the average commoner listens to is just not quite good enough for them. I think a fitting name for this group would be , "The Too preppy to Poop Club" . I often wonder if they have ever had a real good case of "Flatulence" The kind of gas one might get inflicted with just before going out on a hot date with a guy you actually cared about. The type of gas that leaves you wanting to stay alone all evening. Close the blinds lock the door, pop in a movie and retire for the evning alone. But no , not these types of people. They know exactly what food to eat and what foods to stay away from. You will never see them stray from their menu. Not because they don't want to , but in fact they can't.
I guess I should feel compassion or pitty for these people. After all what kind of life do they really live. Sure they have their plastic credit cards, their plastic smiles. And the men all have their Yahts, their summer sports cars, Their chess games reserved for afternoons when it is pouring rain. Or the golf course where they can show off their skills. One afternoon while cleaning around the pool , I caught the sound of a real laugh, coming from the other side of the pool. This sound being so foreign in this place almost gave me a heart attack. I looked up quickly and across the pool. It was dead silent, Every head on deck was turned to one lady, The look in their eyes , the expressions on their faces. Was that of total sheer terror!! . This lady who bravely, and for one moment forgot her standing revealed her humaness, by exhibiting a very short lived but hearty laugh. She quickly put her hands to her mouth. As if to hide the mistake. The silence was deafening. The event was over as quickly as it came. Everyone went back to their monotone stone statued life. . They are as shallow as the crepe's they pretend to eat in the mid morning. They remind me of replicats. I mean they look like us, they have eyes, a nose , hands fingers, torso legs and toes, But they are empty. Even all the men wear the exact same cologne. What kind of people collectively just get together each summer and bring the exact same cologne?. This truly baffles my simple mind. And where are the children? Surely they must procreate. Do they ship them off to camps, or do they stay at home under the care and supervision of a Nanny. One morning while making beds I deliberately with interest overheard a conversation between a couple . They were discussing therapy for a ten year old girl. I had just asumed it was their daughter. Although I had no real evidence to back up this asumption. Apparently the little girl , I believe her name was "Valium" , was refusing to go to her Vilolin lessons. This couple believing it was serious enough to warent therapy, wanting to set up an appointment immediately. I should coment on the fact that the name "Valium" is of particular interest here. That this is not a normal name to attach to a child. Or that naming this child with a name such as , "Valium" is begging for problems as she grows into her own and has to explain to people why her parents chose to call her this. But this is irrelevent because she will never have the chance to have her name questioned by people like us. The average commoner. As long as she stays a member of this group her name is fitting. The fact that this little girl was refusing her music lessons was of no interest to me. Or the pretentious rediculous reason they felt deserved therapy in the first place. What interested me was the conversation between this couple. The manner in which they discussed the issue. Most couples will debate, argue, negotiate, scream and even yelll , to come to a resolve of some sort. Sometimes there is even mis comunication where one person is talking Apples and one is talking Oranges. Not so with this couple. It was just a decided collective think before they even opened their mouths. All they did was mirror the exact same thoughts. Like a Parrot in a cage, to another Parrot in a cage . I remember having the feeling of being terribly alone. Starting to question my sanity , I quickly finished fluffing the pillow, placing the chocolate on the pillow. And ran down to the kitchen to sneak a glass of Wine. All before noon.