Thursday night boredom
I know I'm writing a lot tonight. I don't get paid until midnight so I'm stuck inside until at least then. I've only got $27 left without dipping into the "Max goes on a real vacation" fund, which I've already plundered twice since its birth last month. I would go get a beer with Old Man John at the Grog & Tankard but I'm not sure they'll let me in after last month's debacle. It's all Colin's fault anyways; he never should've let me in the sound booth. Herb has probably forgotten it by now, but what could worse than being turned away from the Grog? (For visiting Danvillians, it's the DC equivalent of a Clucks + The Temple combo.) I'm also reading "Straight Man" by Richard Russo, which, while only on page 140, has already made it onto my list of top 5 books I've ever read. Reading something I enjoy always makes me want to write.
I figured tonight I'd write about something that has been bothering me for a while about my hometown. There's a lot of reasons why I would never move home. For instance, here I can walk down the street with my wild, red mane and not have to constantly deal with people looking at me like I'm crazy. Here in DC, I've always got something to do. This can cause a bit of an overload from time to time, but it passes. I love my neighborhood, with its odd cast of characters, namely Homeless James and Yellowbelly, the cat who thinks he's a dog and inhabits a block of sidewalk outside my window. But, to face the truth, my job is really boring, rent is sky high and always climbing, the traffic can drive a man either to insanity or Buddhism, and it's a big pond. Hard to shine in a bid pond all the time.
However, life in Danville can be so effortless and friendly most of the time. It's cheap to rent, even easier to buy, my Dad and I could fish every weekend, I could help my bear my mom's heavy load, and there's little to no traffic. Then other days, I just say, "Fuck it. Why I don't just move to LA or Sydney like I've been asked and be done with it?"
Nevertheless, there are so many things that really bother me about the town. Like any small Southern city, it has its secrets, some more plainly in view to be solved than others. For instance, the rich in Danville tend to go out of their way to create extravagant, albeit racist, places for them to socialize. After the Great Grove Park Firing of 1998, I worked for a few summers during college as the head lifeguard at the Danville Golf Club. I know I'm a lefty bleeding heart, whatever you want to call it, but it seems to me like the Danville rich have set up almost a Southern plantation society on West Main Street. Racial restrictions are quietly enforced. The workforce is mostly comprised of minorities, I'd estimate about 80% of the staff. Many employees complained to me about outright racist remarks and prejudice. I've never felt like such a hypocrit working anywhere else in my life, even Vocus, whose largest client is the NRA. There are many good members of the club, people I know and respect, and I think that more than anything makes me angry that they allow this continue.
Another instance of this behavior is the new North Main Theater. I wonder if this is the lead wave in an era of gentrification along North Main Street. It just seemed to me at the opening that the rich had finally built a place for them to hang out other than the Golf Club and the Danville Art Museum/Last Capitol of the Confederacy. The sponsors could have a chair named for them for $1000, or a closet for $5000. During this part of the opening speech, I imagined a whole cast of characters lining up for a "Mr. So and So Memorial Men's Lavatory." Nevermind that the joint used to be a porn theater in the 1970s. All of these rich old men strutting around, bragging, "I was here the day they finally shut down" or "I used to come here back when I was 18! It hasn't changed a bit!" High comedy. But I'm a musician and performer. I appreciate that a high caliber performance space now exists and the opportunity for culture in a mill town has never been better. The jazz I saw that night took me to a place full of caravans and ribboned tambourines. My friend is opening a restaurant in the same building and there's an art space on the second floor. I know the people involved. They are, for the most part, wonderful. I guess I just think about these things too much. But the underbelly always bothers me. Let's see what happens, I guess. There's more to the story of that place being built than is immediately apparent. See what I mean? This town is full of secrets. But, honestly, I'm always an optimist. Please, I hope something good comes from it.
Anyways, that's off my chest. (I might add some more to this post later, but for now, something shiny has caught my eye and it demands my attention.)
I figured tonight I'd write about something that has been bothering me for a while about my hometown. There's a lot of reasons why I would never move home. For instance, here I can walk down the street with my wild, red mane and not have to constantly deal with people looking at me like I'm crazy. Here in DC, I've always got something to do. This can cause a bit of an overload from time to time, but it passes. I love my neighborhood, with its odd cast of characters, namely Homeless James and Yellowbelly, the cat who thinks he's a dog and inhabits a block of sidewalk outside my window. But, to face the truth, my job is really boring, rent is sky high and always climbing, the traffic can drive a man either to insanity or Buddhism, and it's a big pond. Hard to shine in a bid pond all the time.
However, life in Danville can be so effortless and friendly most of the time. It's cheap to rent, even easier to buy, my Dad and I could fish every weekend, I could help my bear my mom's heavy load, and there's little to no traffic. Then other days, I just say, "Fuck it. Why I don't just move to LA or Sydney like I've been asked and be done with it?"
Nevertheless, there are so many things that really bother me about the town. Like any small Southern city, it has its secrets, some more plainly in view to be solved than others. For instance, the rich in Danville tend to go out of their way to create extravagant, albeit racist, places for them to socialize. After the Great Grove Park Firing of 1998, I worked for a few summers during college as the head lifeguard at the Danville Golf Club. I know I'm a lefty bleeding heart, whatever you want to call it, but it seems to me like the Danville rich have set up almost a Southern plantation society on West Main Street. Racial restrictions are quietly enforced. The workforce is mostly comprised of minorities, I'd estimate about 80% of the staff. Many employees complained to me about outright racist remarks and prejudice. I've never felt like such a hypocrit working anywhere else in my life, even Vocus, whose largest client is the NRA. There are many good members of the club, people I know and respect, and I think that more than anything makes me angry that they allow this continue.
Another instance of this behavior is the new North Main Theater. I wonder if this is the lead wave in an era of gentrification along North Main Street. It just seemed to me at the opening that the rich had finally built a place for them to hang out other than the Golf Club and the Danville Art Museum/Last Capitol of the Confederacy. The sponsors could have a chair named for them for $1000, or a closet for $5000. During this part of the opening speech, I imagined a whole cast of characters lining up for a "Mr. So and So Memorial Men's Lavatory." Nevermind that the joint used to be a porn theater in the 1970s. All of these rich old men strutting around, bragging, "I was here the day they finally shut down" or "I used to come here back when I was 18! It hasn't changed a bit!" High comedy. But I'm a musician and performer. I appreciate that a high caliber performance space now exists and the opportunity for culture in a mill town has never been better. The jazz I saw that night took me to a place full of caravans and ribboned tambourines. My friend is opening a restaurant in the same building and there's an art space on the second floor. I know the people involved. They are, for the most part, wonderful. I guess I just think about these things too much. But the underbelly always bothers me. Let's see what happens, I guess. There's more to the story of that place being built than is immediately apparent. See what I mean? This town is full of secrets. But, honestly, I'm always an optimist. Please, I hope something good comes from it.
Anyways, that's off my chest. (I might add some more to this post later, but for now, something shiny has caught my eye and it demands my attention.)
posted by Jaded Lens at
8:45 PM
2 Comments:
Max. Kenny here to follow up on this ever so important blog. One night in college jody and I began to discuss the secrets of Danville. What strikes a chord with me is how amazing the gentrification factor comes into play. There isn't the least bit of urbanism in the area. There are either white neighborhoods with a few black residents or vice versa. There is no diversity to areas at all. Rich on this side, poor on the other. Crazy. What sucks for individuals such as ourselves is that if we were to ever have any decide to move back into that area, I would want to find a place to live in the dowtown area. I love old architecture and the beauty it possesses. These areas are not safe after certain hours in danville due to the racism that the old rich white have created.
Our other theory was the twisted catholic church that I once attended. Many wealthy people attend the sacred heart church and school. I always felt like things were getting covered up in that place. For instance...when father ruth was caught soliciting sex in the park. While everyone knew about it, that got very little media attention. It was like when you hear about a car wreck on the radio. You hear about it and then it is over in that instant. Somebody associated with that church must have paid someone off. It just doesn't make any sense. A priest soliciting sex is a big deal and should have large media coverage in its area. Crazy. During the time of our conversation, we had many more deductions reguarding these issues. The conversation began to get really creepy the more we discussed the issues.
We should expose the rich, filthy, and untrusted of danville.
By
Anonymous, at 9:57 AM
Max. Kenny here to follow up on this ever so important blog. One night in college jody and I began to discuss the secrets of Danville. What strikes a chord with me is how amazing the gentrification factor comes into play. There isn't the least bit of urbanism in the area. There are either white neighborhoods with a few black residents or vice versa. There is no diversity to areas at all. Rich on this side, poor on the other. Crazy. What sucks for individuals such as ourselves is that if we were to ever have any decide to move back into that area, I would want to find a place to live in the dowtown area. I love old architecture and the beauty it possesses. These areas are not safe after certain hours in danville due to the racism that the old rich white have created.
Our other theory was the twisted catholic church that I once attended. Many wealthy people attend the sacred heart church and school. I always felt like things were getting covered up in that place. For instance...when father ruth was caught soliciting sex in the park. While everyone knew about it, that got very little media attention. It was like when you hear about a car wreck on the radio. You hear about it and then it is over in that instant. Somebody associated with that church must have paid someone off. It just doesn't make any sense. A priest soliciting sex is a big deal and should have large media coverage in its area. Crazy. During the time of our conversation, we had many more deductions reguarding these issues. The conversation began to get really creepy the more we discussed the issues.
We should expose the rich, filthy, and untrusted of danville.
By
Anonymous, at 9:57 AM
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