Pain threshold--> new test!
Drills, hammers, automatic screw drivers (same as drill?) I think they all operate at some low hertz level that is specifically targeted to make humans fucking crazy.
I live in a condominium complex. Every once in awhile, we get a flyer in the doors informing us of one thing or another. We're given the dates for when our neighbours, either above, next to or below us will be doing renovations. 9-5 I think is the time they're allowed. . . for a week.
Like most people that work exclusively in the arts, I don't keep 'regular' hours. So I'm home or sleeping or on the phone or trying to write something on the computer when it starts. The cats, two of them, are somewhat put off by it, they look around furtively in the general direction of every bang, crash and mind numbing low pitched drone. Then they just settle where they're going to settle and deal with it.
I on the other hand, can't focus. Find myself grumpier than usual and start putting things down with a bit of a heavier hand than usual. Like cups of coffee, like my feet as I'm stomping, I mean walking across the apartment. What it does to my mind though? It's torture plain and simple.
Okay, it's no bamboo under the finger nails, but I thank my stars that I'm not in guantanamo bay for some imagined offense or other being subjected to gods know what by some ignorant/arrogant aspiring world dominators. I rethink my contention that i would hold up under torture.
But then i remember that I can pack up my laptop and go somewhere else for the day. Which is exactly where I wrote this. Down the street far away from the noise, in a little greasy spoon. Food's here. brb.
The concierge this morning showed me video of one of my fellow tenants assaulting him last thursday morning. Literally having a fit and shoving him to the ground. Nice. He lives in 3401, dunno what his deal is, but it was broad daylight and he was not drunk, so what's his excuse? I heard the story, saw the playback and went to get my mail, who do i see in the mail room but the fucker from the security video, he's going through all his mail and is just in a generally bad mood. Not sure i could take him, looks pretty healthy and I'm well. . not. . . at the moment. But at the end of the summer, maybe I'll get a chance to choke him out in the lobby. Who knows, I could just be so lucky.
cna't think drilling, i swear it feels like myears are going to bleed. I was wrong about the cats dealing well with it, they're going nuts too.
I live in a condominium complex. Every once in awhile, we get a flyer in the doors informing us of one thing or another. We're given the dates for when our neighbours, either above, next to or below us will be doing renovations. 9-5 I think is the time they're allowed. . . for a week.
Like most people that work exclusively in the arts, I don't keep 'regular' hours. So I'm home or sleeping or on the phone or trying to write something on the computer when it starts. The cats, two of them, are somewhat put off by it, they look around furtively in the general direction of every bang, crash and mind numbing low pitched drone. Then they just settle where they're going to settle and deal with it.
I on the other hand, can't focus. Find myself grumpier than usual and start putting things down with a bit of a heavier hand than usual. Like cups of coffee, like my feet as I'm stomping, I mean walking across the apartment. What it does to my mind though? It's torture plain and simple.
Okay, it's no bamboo under the finger nails, but I thank my stars that I'm not in guantanamo bay for some imagined offense or other being subjected to gods know what by some ignorant/arrogant aspiring world dominators. I rethink my contention that i would hold up under torture.
But then i remember that I can pack up my laptop and go somewhere else for the day. Which is exactly where I wrote this. Down the street far away from the noise, in a little greasy spoon. Food's here. brb.
The concierge this morning showed me video of one of my fellow tenants assaulting him last thursday morning. Literally having a fit and shoving him to the ground. Nice. He lives in 3401, dunno what his deal is, but it was broad daylight and he was not drunk, so what's his excuse? I heard the story, saw the playback and went to get my mail, who do i see in the mail room but the fucker from the security video, he's going through all his mail and is just in a generally bad mood. Not sure i could take him, looks pretty healthy and I'm well. . not. . . at the moment. But at the end of the summer, maybe I'll get a chance to choke him out in the lobby. Who knows, I could just be so lucky.
cna't think drilling, i swear it feels like myears are going to bleed. I was wrong about the cats dealing well with it, they're going nuts too.
posted by Carlos at
6/13/2006 01:41:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home