Complaining About Gentrification Again

Part of me had this idea that maybe warring against gentrification is in part because I’d like to preserve a savage culture wherein violence of every ilk is commonplace and poverty begets culture. Maybe some of us are just better equipped to live in a brutal, violent city, and, personally, as a mentally deficient, morally bankrupt individual, living in a city with rules and laws just doesn’t ever really work out for me, or any of my friends. It’s the Wild West, and everybody has guns, and rather than living in San Francisco and feeling like a disfunctional wingnut, I can prosper out here in Oakland and make a living while simultaneously trying to self medicate my way out of this crippling bipolar disorder. The honest truth in the matter is, I know I can’t really thrive in a normal, standard city where there are curfews and the bars close early and the walls are clean. My particular brand of brain vomit requires that I be able to vandalize anything I want at any time of day, that I know exactly where to go to get whatever kind of drugs, and that expressing myself through violence be generally socially acceptable. There’s just no other way that I can survive in life, and I’d prefer not get arrested. I’m also trying to avoid getting 51/50’d to the looney bin, so I’ve decided to hunker down in the outpatient psych ward known as Ghost Town. It’s fucking crazy out here!