Council Estate Of Mind

13, August 2013

THE SON:

I don’t have any idea what to write about.

This may seem like a completely random post but I think it explains, partly, why I got so heavily into drugs. I have, for as long as I can remember, been completely fascinated by gangs, and gang culture and how people from that walk of life live and where they live. For example on my recent trip to the States, when we were taking the train from Connecticut into Grand Central, I flipped on my iPhone’s 3G and Data Roaming setting which had both been off for the rest of the trip as it costs ridiculous money to use those features when abroad. We were going through the west & south parts of The Bronx and the railway line was intersecting some of the dodgiest-looking Projects (council flats) that I had ever seen but I really wanted to know exactly where all these horrible looking places were. Just seeing these gutter high rises with cages round everything and seeing lads hanging around outside every building and to me it was obvious that they were slanging dope and/or keeping watch. I saw some withered old woman pushing a Price Chopper cart with an old shoe and an air conditioning unit in it so slowly and it made me wonder if she was going over to the pushers to try and swap them for more crack.

Also, as I looked around, no one else was in sight and it was like an inner city ghost town. Surely if you live an an area like this, you don’t hang around outside, you either go to work or claim your welfare benefit and then get back into your flat as quick as possible. Completely different to the streets of midtown Manhattan where people are dining al fresco and everyone is doing their thing, interacting with others getting on with life, yet less than 2 miles away there are so many of these imposing, intimidating towers with no one to be seen but what appear to be the dregs of human society. Where is everyone?

I don’t know why I am attracted to these sorts of places so much, it must be some sort of warped adrenalin rush that I have been looking for in the past, always got completely buzzed when walking into council estates in Clapham or Brixton or Tottenham or Highbury, back in London, with my gold watch on and my Macbook pro in my bag like some little dickhead baiting anyone rude enough to come and jack me (which they have). But all the drug dealers I have always gone to have always been good to me and friendly with me, a lot of them telling me to cover my watch up etc but obviously it’s because they’ve seen me as a walking bank.

Also, because I have been brought up in a middle-class household and been privileged, there has been a desire to live a slice of life that is unknown to me and picking up drugs I suppose is basically like the cherry on top of my warped, lower-class, council estate-of-mind fantasy.

Anyhow, as soon as the train had pulled into 42nd St. and Grand Central Station, ten minutes after I’d switched Data Roaming 3G on, O2 very kindly sent me a text letting me know I had spent £40 on data and that they would automatically switch off mobile internet capability once it hit £50.

How thoughtful. I have to say, it was almost worth it.

THE MOM:

News to me. Not had the O2 bill yet. Thank you, Alex. Once again, for all you’ve spent.