Consequences of Moving: Garbage Bags In Windows

September 22, 2006

We were goddamn excited at first — the apartment was endless and smelled like fresh paint and polished floors. I swang her through the open doorways and zigzagged across the empty rooms pointing out minute details.

“Look! We get five closets to fill with crap! And the bathroom is entirely white! And the floors are wooden and gorgeous!”

There were echoes of desire in our voice, my hands firmly grabbing her bum.

But our exuberance faded the wider we opened our eyes. We noticed, for instance, that all of our neighbours have garbage bags in their windows instead of curtains. Those who could not afford garbage bags, put up cardboard boxes and bed sheets instead. A strong stench of weed came out of the basement windows.

That night she cried on my shoulder. “We moved into the ghetto,” she said.

“It’s OK,” I said. “You’ll grow to love it.”

Posted by Tudor at 11:54 PM in Various Positions | TrackBack

Comments

I still love you, my ghetto-tastic man!

Posted by: Laura on September 24, 2006 at 02:26 AM

lol

Posted by: Visionary Indian Friend on September 24, 2006 at 10:08 AM

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin’
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
‘cause if there’s one thing that she don’t need
it’s another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto

People, don’t you understand
the child needs a helping hand
or he’ll grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
are we too blind to see,
do we simply turn our heads
and look the other way

Well the world turns
and a hungry little boy with a runny nose
plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto

And his hunger burns
so he starts to roam the streets at night
and he learns how to steal
and he learns how to fight
In the ghetto

Then one night in desperation
a young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
tries to run, but he don’t get far
And his mama cries

As a crowd gathers ‘round an angry young man
face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto

As her young man dies,
on a cold and gray Chicago mornin’,
another little baby child is born
In the ghetto

it seemed funnier when Cartman sang it.

Posted by: deaner on September 25, 2006 at 08:36 PM

Which part of town is this?! I need pictures of the plethora of makeshift curtains.

Interesting factoid: every year we used to tape garbage bags to all the windows at Halloween so people would think we were not home and leave us alone.

Posted by: Kathy on September 29, 2006 at 01:01 PM

Yes, welcome to cheap housing. Your neighbours probably won’t bother you much, but you’ll probably feel really sorry for their kids.

(Sad, but true)

Posted by: spindriftdancer on September 29, 2006 at 10:52 PM

Oh, additional comment. Chris coined the term ‘vertical trailer park’… LOL!

Posted by: spindriftdancer on September 29, 2006 at 10:52 PM
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