Tag Archives: Deadwood

Why have some Americans led such a sheltered existence?!

ghettoYup, it’s that time again. It’s time for me to make huge, sweeping generalizations about Americans.

In my defence, I should say that this is now post 38, and this is the first time (I think) I’ve bitched about Americans. This is good going compared to the last blog!

I just had a “NCNS”, which is the abbreviation for “No Call No Show” i.e. sex industry terminology for an asshole client who stands you up. Technically speaking, this particular asshole was only a “NS”, as he did finally deign to email me one hour after the session was due to start to tell me why he didn’t show up. I don’t know why he didn’t answer my calls, or let me know sooner. In the words of nearly every character on “Deadwood”: Cocksucker!

Anyway, here’s his pathetic excuse of an apology letter:

Wow – your area of town was just too spooky (dangerous-looking) for me. Sorry. I was really looking forward to our session.

I get really annoyed at such excuses because they are, for me at least, just another way of insinuating that all working class, African-Americans are going to rob, rape or murder you. Long before I ever moved to this area of town, it apparently was really dangerous for a white person to come over here but now? Jesus, you can’t avoid having your eyes assaulted by all the white yuppies who’re moving in and the nasty montrosities they build – which do not fit in aesthetically with the neighbourhood at all.

It’s true that only one block away there is a corner where’ll you find pimps, prostitutes and drug dealers, but turn another corner, and you’ll find a whole street of white yuppies. This neighbourhood obviously still has its gritty side, but by no stretch of the imagination can you call it “the ghetto”. It seems to me that only a very sheltered white person who has never been exposed to someone of a different social class, or race, could call it that.

That’s what puzzles me about the US. On the one hand, it is such a wonderfully diverse country (and I love, love, looooove this about it…in fact, it would be weird and boring to move back to “the motherland” for this very reason) but, on the other, you have all these people who’ve grown up here who just seem entirely clueless about how the other half lives. I just don’t get it.

When I was training to be a teacher, a fellow student of mine used to give me a ride home, and we actually became quite good friends over the months despite the fact that she was a self-confessed “Conservative Christian”! One time we were sitting in her car, chatting, with the window rolled down, when she saw a black guy walking past on the other side of the street. Damn, she couldn’t have rolled that bloody window up fast enough! I don’t know what she thought he was going to do, but he just walked on past, minding his own business, as I’m sure he was intending to all along.

She was convinced that I was about to be raped and murdered any second by a black man if I stayed in this part of town, and she said it reassured her that I had a big dog to look after me! This woman would confess to me that her greatest fear was being placed in a high needs school with a lot of minority children because she “just wouldn’t know how to relate to those people“. I actually found this woman’s attitudes funny because, well, I’m used to hanging around with liberal types who are probably racist in their own way, but who would just never admit it to themselves or others. It was refreshingly honest to hear somebody admit outright that they have prejudices and fears about other races. Also, this woman was a good person, deep down, so I couldn’t really fault her for fearing something to which she’d just never been exposed. Once she’s a teacher, I genuinely don’t believe she’ll discriminate against someone from another race/social class. She probably won’t understand their specific learning needs, but she wouldn’t intentionally try to screw them over.

Despite this, though, I just couldn’t help but think…Were you never curious about African-Americans? Did you never want to come over to this part of town to see what life was like here?

I don’t mean to glorify poverty, but I always want to live in a neighbourhood that’s slightly down-at-heel and working-class. Life in this part of town is big, glorious and messy, and I couldn’t imagine living in one of those weird, sterile suburbs middle-class people here seem to prefer. At Christmas time, I visited Midwestern Man’s family in their (yup, you’ve guessed it) Midwestern suburb, and I was bored out of my mind! There’s never anybody on the street, the lawns are always perfectly manicured….nothing ever happens!

The funny thing is that there’s probably loads happening inside…at least the fucked-up parts of this neighbourhood are out in the open for everybody to see. In those suburbs, though, you never see anything but how many women are getting beaten up behind those closed doors? How many alcoholics are they? How many sleazy fathers touching their wee girls? How many alienated, disturbed teenagers?


No porridge drawer yet.

ronniebarker It’s nearly midnight and I’m too tired to post anything substantial, so you’ll just have to make do with this, I’m afraid..

Today was yet another boring Sunday. I didn’t get up until around midday, which I hate, as then I feel like the whole day has been wasted. But that’s what you get when you stay up until 5:00 a.m. watching episodes of “Deadwood”. There have been more Saturday evenings spent at home recently watching “Deadwood” than I care to remember. I’d like to go out but I’m broke, and I have nothing decent to wear anymore.

All I’ve had to eat today is a bowl of bloody porridge, so I really need to go and eat something now. Midwestern Man and I were going to go out for lunch today, but we eat out far too much, so I insisted that we have porridge instead. It was the only thing I had to eat in the house, which is really quite depressing. Midwestern Man wasn’t happy about the porridge, but, ach, things could be worse. If I have to start pouring the porridge into a drawer, waiting for it to harden and then cutting it into slices for a “tasty” lunch treat (as they apparenly once used to do in “the motherland”), we’ll know that we’ve really hit rock bottom.

By the way, does anybody who’s not British even get the relevance of the photo accompanying today’s post?

Comment, for fuck’s sake!

I came home this evening from a volunteer training session and immediately checked my email in the hope that I’d find at least one wee comment on yesterday’s post. But no! Not a single comment – and that despite the fact that poor Petrichor here nearly left the realm of mortals yesterday because of a careless driver!

Come on, people! Comment, goddamn you! I’m not just writing this blog for the good of my health, you know…well, OK, so actually I am….but still! Show me some love!

Yesterday I finished the NaBloPoMo September challenge (i.e. blogging every day for a month), and yet not a tiny word of congratulations from anybody? No? Sigh. Oh, what an underappreciaed, unloved blogger I am.

I do worry sometimes about having lost a bit of my mojo over at this blog. I worry that getting married, and no longer having quite the same need to seek solace in the blogosphere, has made me a bad writer. I also worry that writing every day with a time constraint (I try to take no longer than one hour for each post) has made my writing duller, too. Oh, but what if it has?! I can’t go through life being miserable, depressed and single just so more people comment on my blog. I really like what Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, has to say about the romantic myth of suffering for your art:

“Art isn’t really born from pain – rather it’s just that the pain focuses our attention on the details”

I will leave you with that thought while I go off to drown the sorrow of your terrible neglect in red wine and an episode of my beloved “Deadwood”. Goodnight, you miserable non-commenting bastards.

Saturday…ballsed up by Benadryl

I’m only here, sitting at my keyboard, because of that bloody NaBloPoMo challenge. I have spent the whole day (from roughly noon to 9:00 p.m.) sleeping off a horrible Benadryl hangover. The bad thing about living where I do in the US is that the climate is warm pretty much year round, so there is nearly always something in bloom to give me chronic hayfever. I thought I had outgrown my childhood asthma until I moved here, and it came back with full force. Yet another reason to leave this place!

Every year it seems there is something new I’m allergic to, so it’s very hard to predict when I’m going to get sick. The first year I was here, my allergies were so bad that I actually had sores inside my nose from having blown it so much. Yuck!

I’ve found that taking quercetin supplements, and drinking nettle tea is a good preventative, but this year I’ve been too broke to buy stuff like that. This morning I tried using my faithful neti pot and when that didn’t work, I knew the only thing for it was to take Benadryl. Usually one of those works like a treat, but I had to take two, and that sent me into a zombie-like trance for most of the day. I’m pissed off, but at least I got lots of sleep. If I hadn’t taken them, I’d have lain around feeling miserable.

Well, I’m off to watch Deadwood on DVD again, and have a few glasses of red wine. Don’t you think that Timothy Olyphant, who plays the character Seth Bullock, is just totally delicious?! Yum!