Mississippi Dream Reaper
If I ever own a mansion, that's what I'll name it. Speaking of which, I now have a serious point to make about mortgage rates, foreclosure, a depressed housing market, modern banking, and life's cash flow. I realize that writing in this medium is NOT the best way for me to get any real advice, or anybody to even listen to me for that matter, which is likely the psychological reason why I'm writing here. I'm fucked up that way. A general human fault of mine.
In short, my landlords, unknown to even them, had their home, or my rental home, foreclosed on. Now what that means for me is unknown, except I think I may be able to keep my place in society until the end of my lease period.
Now the question is, do I try to purchase the property at a discounted rate through the "short-sale" process? What do I have to lose besides my soul? Who needs that anyway in times like this? Do I try to rent another property living under the threat of a repeat situation? Lots of people are foreclosing on homes and if they're moving out and renting their unsellable property in order that they move to a new, better property, they will likely also face foreclosure in today's economy. They think they play the system but they just sink deeper into it. Or, do I look to purchase another, different home?
What a time, but as for myself, I would say I'm in no state-of-being appropriate for home ownership. I'm not ready to jump onto the life merry-go-round yet, or maybe ever. I don't actually live on the fringe of society, but I see myself as doing so, or at least sitting on the fringe, always one ass cheek away from falling off into the abyss. I don't do this because I think of myself as a cool, outcast, pariah, I don't think, but because I genuinely fear the chasing of invisible dreams and crushing power of the competitive and power hungry clan of demons that crowd society's food lines. They're sick and disgusting, and want to send their kids to elite nursery schools. In addition they hold influence over ALL of they money, and the predatory banks which they loiter in shall not have my flesh! But they desire it so, and any good American would submit and begin to donate flesh today. Good flesh can win over their hears at least temporarily I've heard.
In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter. In one way or another I've already exchanged a good portion of flesh for a new car and some processed cheese spread. I live in it as we speak: breathe it, bleed it, soak in it. At least if I owned I could then say, "take me home tonight." Just like Ronnie said. Ronnie Spector that is.
When are communes coming back? For now, unless additional advice is provided, I'll remain a squatter, the thing that my forefathers respected above all else.
In short, my landlords, unknown to even them, had their home, or my rental home, foreclosed on. Now what that means for me is unknown, except I think I may be able to keep my place in society until the end of my lease period.
Now the question is, do I try to purchase the property at a discounted rate through the "short-sale" process? What do I have to lose besides my soul? Who needs that anyway in times like this? Do I try to rent another property living under the threat of a repeat situation? Lots of people are foreclosing on homes and if they're moving out and renting their unsellable property in order that they move to a new, better property, they will likely also face foreclosure in today's economy. They think they play the system but they just sink deeper into it. Or, do I look to purchase another, different home?
What a time, but as for myself, I would say I'm in no state-of-being appropriate for home ownership. I'm not ready to jump onto the life merry-go-round yet, or maybe ever. I don't actually live on the fringe of society, but I see myself as doing so, or at least sitting on the fringe, always one ass cheek away from falling off into the abyss. I don't do this because I think of myself as a cool, outcast, pariah, I don't think, but because I genuinely fear the chasing of invisible dreams and crushing power of the competitive and power hungry clan of demons that crowd society's food lines. They're sick and disgusting, and want to send their kids to elite nursery schools. In addition they hold influence over ALL of they money, and the predatory banks which they loiter in shall not have my flesh! But they desire it so, and any good American would submit and begin to donate flesh today. Good flesh can win over their hears at least temporarily I've heard.
In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter. In one way or another I've already exchanged a good portion of flesh for a new car and some processed cheese spread. I live in it as we speak: breathe it, bleed it, soak in it. At least if I owned I could then say, "take me home tonight." Just like Ronnie said. Ronnie Spector that is.
When are communes coming back? For now, unless additional advice is provided, I'll remain a squatter, the thing that my forefathers respected above all else.
Labels: assistant editor of the local paper, Cheryl Crowe hits the bigtime, foreclosure, renaissance suits, renter's assistance
posted by fiestawizard at 6:40 PM
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