Friday, April 16, 2010

Bee Tee Double You

By the way, construction (across the street) is all but over.  The two days that I get to sleep in, I am so happy not to hear the backup beeps of fatty trucks, but the peaceful chirp of spring birds.

Its the time of year when I can sit in my living room and have my window open, unafraid of the torment of bangs and crashes.  I was doing that this very evening.  So now what's the catch?

It's one of those INFERNAL HIGH-TECH BUILDINGS, with a BUILT-IN PARKING GARAGE, with the LKFJOIE CUFOJSDFJ #V)(*$)(@V )( STUPID VOICE that announces whenever a car is leaving!!! AND IT IS SO LOUD!!!!!

"WARNING! A CAR IS APPROACHING" - official man voice

SERIOUSLY!??? ?!!?!?!? !??!?!?!?!?!? I AM AN ENTIRE BLOCK AWAY!!!!!!!

Urubamba Mamba

Jenny has departed into the high jungles of the sacred valley of Cusco, Peru.  Urubamba?  As she broadens her world view and increases her spirit tenfold by delving into the depths of humility, I sigh a sigh of relief.  No one to hold me accountable for washing the dishes, for cleaning the sink, for putting my books and clothes away, for placing my bike in my own room, no.. one... to talk.. to?  No, that sigh is a sigh of misery.  I can't believe how many opportunities there are, in an empty apartment, to talk to myself! I am learning myriad small things.

Who else is there to keep my company, in this apartment 410?  A survey of our neighbors with whom a walkway is shared:

Apartment 409 - Allen, Jean, and Grunts. Allen: a seventy-something-year-old Caucasian wrinkly hippie.  Flowing white dreadlocks, never without a big brown marijuana smoky-thingy in his hand.  Actually I don't know what leaf is contained therein, I'm just making an assumption.  I don't know a lot  about drugs.  When I wake up and look out the window, he's on Mercer St., pacing around the misty morn'.  When I come home from school, he's on the opposite side of the building, chatting with other neighbors. He knows Everyone?  I don't understand it. Favorite phrases: "Just gettin' ready to go to work!" or "Beautiful night/day, surreal, wow." Jean: African-American late-30/early-40-something, incredibly tall.  He is very polite! When I sit on the couch by the door, I hear him come outside for his telephone conversations.  He always expresses his love for the family and for whoever he is talking to.  He sounds like a solid dude, though Jenny highly suspects Jean and Allen to be involved in drug trafficking.  She may be right. Grunts: They just got a dog. I'm not sure what it's name is (I forgot), it might have been Beanie, but Grunts seems appropriate. As for the apartment... it's a 1 bedroom, Jean sleeps on a mattress by a TV in the living room. That's all I see through the blinds.

Apartment 408 - Blinds INFINITELY shut.  I've seen them half open twice.  Someone also sleeps in the living room and has a quilted bedspread.  Once, I saw a short Asian woman with very thick hair hurriedly exiting the unit, carrying an empty grocery bag.

Apartment 407 - When we first moved here, there was a lady who lived here who claimed she was "just visiting." She was quite old and haggish, but she had a new hair color almost every week.  She also had a slobbery dog named Sir.  They hung out on the balcony all day long.  I'm not sure who she lived with, but she slept in the living room, and whoever else lived there was a good-looking young man.  It was really confusing.  Anyway, they moved out, and now this gym-rat lives there.  He's nice, and he has a super-fit friend who is totally my type that comes over a lot.  I see them together more often than not.  You know, they're probably gay.  But if they weren't, I would make friends with him so I could get to know that friend of his.

Apartment 406 - This apartment was previously inhabited by the only normal person on the floor.  When he moved out a few months ago, Jenny and I were terribly dismayed and slightly afraid.  Thankfully, the new residents of this 1-br are a young couple and a baby! I am so grateful that I live on the other end of the floor, because when I'm in the front room I definitely here that little buddy screaming his or her head off.

Well, that's all.  It's been 3 weeks that Jenny has been gone, and I've peeked through many-a-neighbors-window and nothing has been extra suspicious.