I live next door to some sort of underground arts collective. I don't really know the deal, but it's in an apartment building and they have a lot of fundraising parties. This is all well and good, and normally when there's an event there, the street outfront is congested for maybe thirty minutes here and there. But it's been like this for hours now, everyone's drunk, it's obscenely loud, there's a ton of smashed beverage containers and liquid all by my front door, etc etc. The reality of course is that I'd gladly choose this crap over the city's ridiculous periodic quality of life initiatives, but what boggles my mind is when people come into neighborhoods very much like the ones they live in, and yet seem utterly unable to comprehend that people just like them (although moderately more polite, and that's saying something) live here, eventhough THEY ARE LEANING AGAINST THEIR WINDOWS.
My whole building seems mildly perturbed and perplexed (as I ran into people on my way in and we had discussions on the landing about it), which is also unique, as our moments of uniting are few and far between.
I do at least hope the least pleasant and most agressive of the 80s-punk-rock-aren't-you-scared-of-me idiots freak out those awful girls that live under us though. A lot.
I said earlier to Kat that I've come to the conclusion that "work isn't the prayer, it's the shit you do so you can say you had an excuse not to go to the gym." I was clearly feeling not-optimistic, among other things. The punchline of course is that I get more excercise walking around this city in search of paper-cutters than anything else, and I spent two hours out tonight unable to find one. Soooo irritating. I wound buying a book of travel essays and groceries instead.
UPDATE: They are now singing Iron Man at the top of their lungs. What did I do to deserve this?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
