Thursday, January 27, 2011
Nope, no thank you.
Are you one of those people who thinks about owning rental properties?
If you are, then the next thing you should ask yourself is would you knowingly tear a portal in into your life so that every ounce of negativity that exists outside of your person, could come pouring through the portal - like if you were to shoot a hole into your karmic fuselage and all the luggage and first class seats got sucked through it, some with bodies still sitting in them - it's like that, except in reverse. The suction comes the opposite direction and it deposits bodies, luggage, beverage carts and blue toilet water on top of your family.
There is so little good that can be said about being sucked from an airplane at great altitude. Maybe you get a moment of flight? Maybe you get a couple of milliseconds of something transformative as the atmospheric changes cause you to black out.
You don't get that with rental properties. There's nothing transformative about it. Nothing even anesthetizing like the thin air at 17,000 feet. Its a constant test of trying to trust and like people , to do right by them, so that in return you can stand ankle deep in wet toilet paper and bounced checks. I hate the regret of misguided trust. I want to believe in second chances. I want to believe and hope. But instead I get to scrape and paint a cobwebbed basement where the brick is soft.
I can feel so good and high, in my creative zone, firing like a high performance engine, just hugging the turns....and in time it takes to read one text I am eating cat food off a piece of torn linoleum as I stare into the balloon-knot anus of the universe.
And the relationship is ongoing. Its not as if you can just shake hands and move on. No. You. Can't. Because they're not going to like something. Like how a light bulb is out. No one can get their ass up on a chair and change a light bulb. But they sure know how to text. They can text while having root canal, on a wire high above the city, but bulbs require professional help.
And then there's the get-over, the change of paint colors, painted only as high as they could reach. Something in lime green. And the crap they leave behind, boxes of text books, and old exercise bikes, and plastic tubs of shit you wouldn't want if they were air-lifted into your flooded village. You'd pass and go back to your tarp. Because there's some crap that would make even a wet tarp hut look bad. So you haul all that shit out onto the curb over the weekend, taking time away from relaxation and your family, only to have someone complain to the city about early trash removal and then you get a little fine as a thank you. Poverty in $50 increments.
So if you're thinking about rental properties as a line of income. Think instead about selling your organs on the black market. Because you'll live longer, and you'll make more money.