This is a breakup letter to a city I never thought I'd leave. In the words of Neko Case, "I'm sick of doing your dishes, town--I'm out."
This isn't working.
I'm tired of having to make new friends every three years when your economy turns over. I'm tired of your dead downtown and your 1800 identical Walgreens. I'm sick of your white-collar hamburger values and and I can't stand your perfect f*cking freeways for another minute. I'm sick of having to carry around a sweater in July to deal with the schizophrenic difference between your indoor and outdoor climates, and I'm sick of you getting dark at four o'clock just when your outdoor temperature finally becomes tolerable. I'm sick of the cum trees.
I'm sick of your quaint little goat farms getting bulldozed for tract housing and not being able to go to a single restaurant that I went to when I moved here because you can't put together a functional community. I'm sick of trying to talk over your terrible music on your terrible outdoor patios at your terrible dank-lit bars to your terrible dank-lit temporary residents. I'm tired of you trying to pass off "shitty" as "ambiance."
I'm tired of your contradictory politics and your platform flip-flops. I'm tired of you trying to cover up your B.O. with citrus body spray. I'm tired of your classist snap judgments and the way I can't use the sidewalk to go anywhere without you making me feel weird. I'm tired of all your goddamn trucks.
I'm sick of the way you spend so much money on psuedo-midwestern landscaping but you won't lift a finger to help out the arts or your city parks. I'm sick of your HOAs and also all your empty downtown dirt lots. I'm sick of your ugly-ass autoplexes and your terrifyingly homogenous apartment complexes. I'm sick of the bars you put down the middle of your city benches.
I'm sick of the fact that it takes your public transportation TWO HOURS to get me from one suburb to another, and then you complain about the gross brown pollution cloud. I'm sick of your bitching about the heat. It's the desert. It's f*cking hot. STFU about it already. At least we don't live in a barren cultural landscape devoid of any neighborly feeling---oh, wait. Yes, we do.
I'm sick of how hard you try to be like L.A. without investing in any of the things that actually make L.A. kind of sweet. I'm sick of your obsession with new cars and big houses and fenced-in yards. If I see another cement-block wall, I might throw up. I'm sick of your weird fusion chain restaurants and your uncomfortable seating. I'm sick of your disgusting man-made turquoise lakes, and your total waste of potable water in the form of misters and decorative fountains.
In short, Phoenix, I got to know you better than almost anyone else, and you kind of suck. Good luck with all that.