|—||Susan Sontag, from “Bergman’s Persona”, 1967. (via chancr)|
I feel like every house on the other side of the shit canal is way richer than my family and they are all supposed to be middle class. No way man. No way is that middle class. Maybe like “right between me and the boss,” but not average. Right? I mean they had Emmy’s in the house and photos of Oprah and artwork on the walls. William S. Burroughs’ funeral card too. That was cool. I used to date a girl on that side of town and she had art on the walls too. A tiny Dali. A few John Lennon doodles. That seems real fucking weird to me. Is that what being middle class is like? Is that normal? To be weirdly nonchalantly rich? Or is that what life is like when your parents have college degrees? Is that the gulf of experience between one side of a river of sewage and another?
Every ad, I stop and read the whole thing. Every time. I don’t even realize. I’m right in the zone and they take me for everything I got.
Okay. I’ll let my freak flag fly.