#d-channel

The idea of utopia, first coined by Sir Thomas More, in the 16th century, was always meant to be satire. It was always intended to be expressed as a parodic reflection of society’s obsession with the unattainable. Elegantly defined as “the desire to obtain that which cannot be obtained”.

Mental health is criminally underrated. It is the antithesis of currency cashed out from clout. The kids can’t afford to advertise candour, so the truth of mental health is adorned with powder, blush and mascara, injected with a mélange of chemical enhancements and deformed beyond recognition by filters. Awareness of mental health should be parallel to physical. Mens sana in corpore sano. Sound mind in sound body. Awareness is present yet, instead of being elevated by the platform of social media, is a spectacle of parody. Any sincere appeals for the understanding and improvement of mental health or serious interest, thereof, are as aimless as the arbitrary metric for adulthood. By age 25, you’re expected to renounce your toy badge for a sturdy bronze with “Adult” engraved in the metal. Your prefrontal cortex should be beyond further development. You stop looking both ways before crossing the road. You stop thinking twice about passing a red light. You may or may not be the proud owner of a new lifeform. What you won’t find yourself owning is a car or house. In another decade, you may still be struggling to afford steadily increasing monthly payments that have no expiration date. That new lifeform will be older, yet still dependent on you to keep it well and functioning, lest you find your new landlord replaced with a very eccentric cosplayer who’s obsessed with law enforcement. By age 25, you’ll likely still be in a child’s place. A playground and rec room housed in an oubliette. Sat Indian-style on ash and bones, you look up to the ceiling where a square of light doubles as the only entry and exit. What is a down payment?, you wonder while overhearing The Adults speaking in a sort of heated delirium. But, the words are censored. Waterbeds stuffed between the walls, sloshing about when the truth is near. By 25, if not curious or discerning, you may settle for the luxury apartment. At most, you may consider buying a condo at the equally hefty expense of nescience regarding your involuntary induction into the homeowner’s association. By 25, the term “down payment” may not be defined unless by chance when browsing through listed houses, in jest. Like reading fantasy as an escape. Leafing through a picture book. Except, the desired escape has been made dystopian. You see a home within the median price range of $200,000 to $300,000. Any home within this range is a safe venture for relatively decent upkeep. Anything between $100,000 to $200,000 can also apply, but requires gambling with location. Anything below $100,000 is essentially abandoned territory. No, literally. The homes below this range typically have photo listings of dilapidated, sickly interiors where the floorboards are skinned, carpets burned, walls peeling, electrical wiring caught in entanglement. These are the homes you search and salivate for on the basis of having a plan to nurse them back to health. Which, in effect, cleverly negates the supposed silver lining of cheap pricing when thousands more external expenses will need to be paid to make the house somewhat hospitable again. Notwithstanding, any permanent living arrangements being that cheap are sure to not be a good time for people who don’t have a fetish for the slums. Or, an odd wish fulfilment of getting the Skid Row experience. Hyperbole aside, as an anecdote, I did manage to find a home well below $100K that was considerably nice. In a charming, suburban way. Of course, with that being said, you might imagine where this home is marketed. Good ole quaint, yet no less bumfuck, Midwest. Except, it isn’t the Midwest, yet an understandable mistranslation when considering the fact that thousands to millions of Americans are still misinformed and unable to distinguish Medicare from Medicaid, receiving mail to apply for Medicare coverage, despite their social security numbers identifying them as the opposite of the senescent demographic Medicare is targeted for.

The listing remains unchanged except for a small note of consideration from the estate agent to the potential buyer stating that the home must be “moved” once purchased. Not only moved, but at the owner’s expense. In laical terms, this means that the home will only be sold provided the buyer is willing and able to relocate the home to another empty plot of land with another tens of thousands of dollars that was barely afforded for the few thousand down payment of $7,000. An exceedingly rare deal compared to the average $40-60K needed for a median down payment to gain respectable living. With what savings? Moving to another place only to move the place to another place. And, where is this place?