Fixated. On oddities. From time to time, strange little things. I face them head on when they come up. Then they go away. Until they rear their ugly heads again. They always do.
Know what I mean?
I hate my neighbor. His fat, puffy face. His awkward gait. His squeaky, incoherent way of talking. Well I can’t understand what he says really. Yeh it’s my version of hate. I do rationalize it though, logicalize it. I theorize he’s incapacitated and shy, awkward like his gait, unable to do better. I make excuses for him.
And I’m nice to him.
That’s the problem. When we first met I was friendly as he spoke to the ground. I found it curious so small talked him some. He practically put his arm over his face and walked through his front door. How peculiar. He has big dogs that live in his little apartment. No one comes to visit him. He throws a steady stream of crushed beer cans away. His blinds are always closed, even on the most stellar of days.
He does come out to walk the dogs though.
One summer day I was out front relaxing and so was my cat, and his dogs weren’t on their leashes, and they made a beeline right past me and chased my cat into the woods plum up a tree. The neighbor too waddled past me, leashes in hand, with that face. The best I could muster was “Good thing you’re carrying that those leashes, huh?”
He didn’t respond.
It was a bit aggressive, for me anyway. I finally located the cat and got myself all bloodied up getting him down, while the neighbor drove off to God knows where. I have a scar on my thigh.
A conundrum. So I bought him a twelve-pack of PBRs cause I felt I was rude. I left it on his front porch as a gesture. Why did I do that? Cause I’m fixated. On oddities. Like how much I hate my neighbor. And want to be nice to him.
He works as a waiter he said. Well I knew it cause of his getup. I smiled and asked where, being soft and easy. His front door is next to mine so we can’t help but see each other. One nods their head naturally and makes short chitty-chat in such proximity right? It’s hard not to. I’m not looking to marry him. He told me the restaurant and I know it. I’ve never been so I said “One weekend I’ll come in with friends and we’ll have dinner and fun and you’ll get a juicy tip”. He mumbled something and looked at me like I had three heads. I didn’t mean tomorrow. Then he practically put his arm over his face and got in his truck and drove off.
I can’t stand him. Yet I wanna be nicer. Why do I do that?
I may move out of here. I don’t like living next to such a morose person. You’d think it’d be no big deal but I think nicer people ought to be recipients of my breeziness. No need for such a zen buzz kill. I have zero interest in any way shape or form in anything other than simple neighborliness. Where’d this come from?