Libiamo ne' lieti calici

The chic reminiscence of Jeffrey Eugenides perfectly captures the life I tore myself away from in Ridley Park. Beneath the surface the film is about a world of European affluence devoid of multicultural dynamism, and his characters are as familiar to me as the back of my hand, now that I'm only a piece of indigent driftwood an imposition on minorities who spray an aerosol when I throw my sister's maternity jumper on to stroll down to check the mail. In theory, I could just give my notice and deposit myself at father's. sister's doorstep. Padre is living off soup. My sister's children are stricken, due to her middle child narcissism? 

You have to understand, my father's sperm, in numerical order, produced a male firstborn which my mother miscarried, then me, then Michelle, who was an unfortunate, minimally aware mentally retarded being who might have been better off left to wolves, so when Stephanie appeared, my poor parents must have sent Pope Paul a hefty tithe, and it was with Stephanie's birth we became suburban, climbed the fucking ladder until my mother got divorced and spiraled out of control. I love her, or did, but that emotion is twisted into a great deal of hate, Eugenides' send up was what I could observe and never enter. Prom? What was a fucking prom? A corsage? What was that?

Getting stoned, that I knew something about, but it never-- I never got high-- drunk, yes, but drugs simply made me darker. Anyone who knew me then would be shocked at seeing my face, just as Debbie Russell, spastic co-worker, was in 07 before she was laid off. Tell myself positive things? With what? Pretend I still have prospects and can argue with members of legacy media and their bylines? I tell myself not to take it so hard when security guards, who themselves cannot garnish too much for sitting on their asses in a building such as this, treat me like a pariah, but it hurts, only parking a moment to convey something to Joseph Delesio, who was on my case management docket all those years ago when I was a consultant for seven dollars an hour, believing I was on my way.

Should I get into an altercation with poorly paid black females and use racial epithets, proceed to actual incarceration? What the state would actually do to me in that event I am unsure of. What difference does it make?