Benjamin Anastas
:: An Underachiever's Diary
In a way our neighborhood was a utopian experiment, like Hawthorne's Brook Farm, or a cross between the Playboy mansion (nudity, recreational drugs) and a Shaker village (pacifism, unfinished wood), and if that means my parents' ideals were doomed to fail (remember the eighties?), then I can live with the disappointments we faced as a family, knowing that ideal happiness can live only in daydreams, Hollywood movies, or between the protective covers of a sentimental book.
Name all the people I have known and not one soul is finished, we are a litany of criminals-agains-perfection that will last forever, or at least until our time on this spinning puddle comes to an end.