Urban Anxiety

The race for this massive accumulation for maximum amount of stuff is on, and we are all participants, unwitting or otherwise, in a tawdry chase for material possessions. In the hopes that in the unlikely event that we may be judged positively, that our decisions to purchase may reflect in good light back on our personality, that when others witness our plush existence surrounded in the luxury of the objects with which we choose to surround ourselves, that we may be deemed worthy, respectable and beautiful. Using this giant mound of stuff as a panacea for the insecurities that plague and nip at heels almost daily, as though the things you own will stand up for you, righteously, as though they will take a stance and defend your honor, your somewhat worn pair of shoes opening up lips and proclaiming, “This person is a good person!” So that way, we will not have to. So that we will not have to fritter away time investing, instead, in people, in the hopes that we may reap the benefits of that scam called friendship. But, no, let us foist our anxiety about the lack of acceptance in this fucking city and use dollar bills to alleviate all this god damn pain.