Crazy neighbor of mine has finally proven that, although she lives in arguably one of the trendiest locations on all of the USA, she is just a redneck in chunky black glasses and a Chrissy Hynde haircut. Trash knows no borders, it seems. She's been redoing the apartment complex of hers for about three years now, making my life and the lives of all those within a one-block radius a nightmare of screaming tantrums, drunken arguments with her abusive, drug-addled boyfriend, and family dramaturgy worthy of Eugene O'Neill. I hate her. Everything about her sucks. And now, the coup de gras, the erection this morning of a shiny new chickenwire fence separating our narrow little walkway from her property. The irony, of course, is that not that it's ugly and crude (beside our well-appointed older building, with the creeping vine and terra cotta paintjob, the banana tree and the green slat fence)... the irony is that WE'LL STILL FUCKING HEAR HER. She couldn't even have the heads-up to put up something wooden, so at least we'd have a fighting chance that the sounds of arguing/sobbing/hectoring-the-mexican-day-laborers would not have the werewithall to leap over the six foot barrier.
There better be some sound baffling going over that fucking metal atrocity, because if I am awoken by make up sex one more time, I'm going go all In Cold Blood on them, every last one of them. What I really need is CalTrans to come in and put up that cement shit they run along the highway to keep the neighborhood quiet. Andrea, I hope you somehow find your way to this post. Finish the job. Also, SHUT UP!
Thing is, see, I'm a writer. I need peace and quiet to do my thing. Yesterday, when they were drilling into the concrete in order to set the gleaming aluminum posts that - little did I know - would be part of the hideous new addition to the property line, I had to wear the earplugs I usually reserve for drumming. And don't even get me started about the dog, Bok Choy, who was delivered unto us from The Devil himself. Fucking hicks, Jesus.
All right, all right. Enough. I swear the next post will have SOMETHING to do with what's currently (not) going on with my writing career. Until then, I'll try and get a photo of this fence up so you can see it in all its shining unsightliness.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment