Neighbors: Lack Thereof

[Currently listening to: UK punk band Art Brut, who actually have a
sense of humor!]

Be reading Mark's post on K-Punk regarding the death of community in
80s Thatcher England and the arise of the atomized individual, link
here:

http://k-punk.abstractdynamics.org/archives/005635.html

Made me realize, and grow depressed at the fact, that I don't know a
single one of my neighbors except for the dude across the hall (who I
met in a different context than this shite apartment complex). This
itself is a banal realization, the stuff of sitcoms by this point, but
there's still the underlying guilt, dread, and pining for something.
But I, dear lads, am as afraid to connect with people as anyone else.
When confronted with a stranger approaching me down the sidewalk, I can
usually manage a weak smile at most, but typically I must find an
excuse to look away. Its not that I hate people, I just can't handle
the mild stress and social confusing of sort-of meeting someone for the
first (and usually last time). "Hi, how are ya?"

We all go about our day, dreading the idea of being DERAILED form our
daily agenda and task list, of being put-out or put-upon by the
unexpected meeting, harassment, stalking, whatever. We're stuck in this
utilitarian, day-to-day survival mode -- "just got to make enough to
pay the rent this month" -- which was always the classic Bad Guy for
Situationists: mere survival. With my rent check staring me in the face
as I type this, I only know this too well. Also do I know the
impossibilit of trade, barter, and sharing with neighbors: asking the
psychotic Amish ladies next door for a cup of sugar is far mroe of an
energy investment than working a second job to buy my own at the
Safeway down the street (er, not that sugar's that expensive).

But that's what we (?) do: work crazy amounts of time, or take dirty
shit-eating second jobs, just to avoid the annoyance of emotional
entanglement with another person. The only connections we sustain,
then, are those of transaction: with la mexican chica at the Rite Aid,
with the short blonde girl with big boobs at the coffee shop, with that
girl we once made a drunken pass at at Barnes & Noble, with balding
Filipino hippie at Whole Foods, with the endless array of cranky old
white malkes driving the buses all over cities (I am speaking, of
course, universally ;)).

And, you know? It's almost perfectly fine. Really, who needs people?
That's really been the source of supreme suffering for us for millenia:
other people. Instead of the unmediated, unstructure face-to-face
exchange, we prefer a relationship with INTENT, something that's not
just a relationship-for-relationship's sake. THAT, of course, would be
too revolutionary. So we'll continue on: I'm friends with Sean because
he's my roommate and he need his rent money, I'm going on a date
because I need physical intimacy, I'll go to the coffee shop for some
buzz, I'll write emails to co-workers and IMs to old friends.

All of it mediated by a type of exchange, none of it a pure connection.