…most of the time I’m glad my neighbors are quiet, but every once in a while I get to feeling a little nostalgic and, well, I miss Stompy and Shouty and Next Door Neighbor. With these neighbors, I have no good stories!
To be fair, I am fascinated with one of them mostly because I can’t figure out who lives there or what’s going on–they of the Death Fridge–but life was much more exciting a few blocks away from here…
I forgot! I came home on Friday during the presidential debates last week and Shouty was busy yelling at his television. Mostly things like ‘You’re a liar!’ ‘You just want foreign oil, stop lying!’ and the ever-popular ‘Shut up!’
It was amusing. And depressing, I suppose, but it’s nice that he’s passionate enough about politics (and I think I agree with him) to actually shout at the television about it.
As I’ve said before, the doors to our apartments are very thin, which means that it’s very easy to hear, very clearly, across the hall. So, I was watching an MST3K movie on my computer and probably laughing a bit at it – not super-loudly, I don’t think, just a normal laughter-level – PLUS it was only 6pm or so, a very reasonable hour to be laughing. I was also meeting my parents for dinner and as I was locking my door, my phone rang. Now, my ringtone for my father is one of the Mozart horn concertos. I don’t know which one off the top of my head – it’s the most famous one. You’d recognise it if you heard it. So my phone rings and from my new across-the-way-neighbor’s apartment, I hear ‘SHUT UP!’
He has therefore been nicknamed ‘Shouty Bastard.’
‘Shouty’ for short.
ETA: A wrench has been thrown in my nicknaming. I met Shouty this afternoon and, not only did he introduce himself with a very good handshake, he seemed entirely too polite to be the kind of person to shout at an unknown neighbor. Judgement shall be reserved for the time being and, until further notice, he will be known as ‘Shouty?’.
I am the proud owner of two new neighbors today! So no more stories about Stompy and Catty-Corner Girl (not that there ever were stories about her, I think). I’ll have to give them new names because, despite saying hello to the boy moving in across the way and his friend helping him move in (these apartments are too small to support two people, so presumably only one of them is staying), they did not introduce themselves (and they were blocking up the driveway with the U-Haul truck, though I suppose it can be forgiven just this once). And I haven’t actually seen anyone going into Catty-Corner Girl’s apartment, but the door was open, so I’m assuming someone’s in the process of moving in…
But I will keep you posted if anyone’s behavior lends themselves to easy and obvious nicknaming!
I’m in the middle of waiting for my iPod to re-sync with iTunes (Hast thou forsaken me, Hadley Jr.?!) because it (Hadley Jr.) has started to get confused about what it thinks it’s playing (e.g., it says it’s playing Coldplay, but really it’s playing Flunk [which could very well mean that it's developed a consciousness and is passing judgement on my music selection], it says it’s playing Pretty Mary Sunlite [Scooby!] when actually it’s playing Flogging Molly, and Fiona Apple for Tilly and the Wall [it seems to prefer the 'F's, no?]) and Next Door Neighbor is having a music extravaganza.
He played a song that I didn’t know but I really liked and then moved on to that song that goes ‘Signed, sealed, delivered, I’M YOURS!’
And sang along. Oh, Next Door Neighbor, I love you so much more than I love Stompy.
ETA: Based on the way the floor is vibrating, I’m going to say it’s evolved from solo-karaoke to a solo dance party. You are the best next door neighbor, Next Door Neighbor.
ETA2: Hmm, the dance party has turned maudlin all of a sudden (and back to karaoke) – So Cruel and One (U2, just in case). Maybe he just had a bad breakup?
It’s 4:40 am and I’m pretty sure we just had an earthquake (that or Stompy’s really outdone himself)! Uh, I live in Illinois, so that’s not really supposed to happen, I think. Also, I hope it doesn’t happen again as my very old apartment building did not feel too sturdy during.
ETA: Yes, I know we’re on a fault line that’s supposed to be gearing up for a California-style earthquake at some point, but still!
ETA2: It was an earthquake – a 5.3 apparently (I was guessing about a 2 – obviously my internal earthquake sensor needs to be recalibrated…)!
ETA3: Okay, so the first one was revised to a 5.2 and we’ve just had a second one (‘just’ being 10:30 am-ish) that’s a 4.5. Very exciting!
Toto? Now I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with Toto or the song ‘Africa’ in particular. But is that really the kind of song you want to be playing loud enough for everyone to hear? I think that’s more of a guilty pleasure that should probably be kept to yourself.
Especially when it’s almost my bedtime.
Unless it’s part of the 80s retrospective you were totally having the other day (e.g., Hey, Mickey; Sunglasses at Night; and 867-5309), then rock on out to Toto, my friend.
No matter how loudly you play Radiohead, I will never love you the way I love Next-Door Neighbor because he
Doesn’t play Radiohead at midnight. Yes, I know it’s a Saturday and I’m just up watching Green Wing, but still!
Doesn’t let the hallway doors slam.
And perhaps most importantly, DOES NOT STOMP UP THE STAIRS AT ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT WITH HIS SIMILARLY STOMPY FRIENDS! Seriously, I did not think it was humanly possibly to make so much noise coming up a staircase. When he does it in the middle of the night and wakes me up, there is always a moment of ‘Frankenstein’s monster! It’s Frankenst- Oh. No, it’s just Stompy…’
Although as much as I complain about him, it could be a lot worse and I do worry about whoever’s moving into his apartment when he moves out. At least I’m used to Stompy and his Stompy McSlammerson ways (and his friends that confuse my apartment for his at 2:00 in the morning and pound on my door yelling ‘McSlammerson!’ until he opens his door. Which to be fair is not completely their fault since we are the only two apartments in the building without numbers on our doors and when you’re drunk and it’s 2 am, it’s probably hard to remember what side of the hall your friend lives on…). And at least he plays Radiohead loudly and not somebody horrible like…Linkin Park. Ugh.
Oh, Stompy. I’m gonna miss you. Here’s hoping your replacement at least has the same good taste in (loud) music.
No, don’t run away! I promise this isn’t music theory. No. I havea music theory. Allow me to explain.
Following a Justin Timberlake trance that left me with that sort of queasy feeling you get after taking a nap in the sun, I decided to detox by listening to some proper music (i.e., Muse). After a week-long Muse stupor, I suddenly had a moment of revelation which led me to my music theory (I’m sure I’m not the first to point this out, but let me pretend for a moment). My theory is that Muse are not actually Muse but rather Philip Glass in a cunning disguise so that he can infiltrate popular music.
No, come back! I have examples! And, if all else fails, at least stay for the video of Muse at the end. I promise it’s worth it.
Example A: Rubric by Philip Glass
Okay, got that sound in your head? The first time I heard this next song, I immediately thought ‘Oh, I hadn’t realised Philip Glass was writing rock songs now.’
Example B: Take a Bow by Muse
See? The similarities are eerie, no? But wait, there’s more!
Example C: Floe by Philip Glass
Example D: Apocalypse Please by Muse (This one, you’ll have to wait until 1:47 to hear it, but it’s a good song in the meantime.)
I think both of those prove my point. Not that I’m complaining, by any means. If you’ll remember, I adore Philip Glass and since Muse are obviously Philip Glass in disguise, I also adore them. Plus Matt Bellamy is completely and utterly divine. Wee and banter-challenged, but still divine.
Example E: Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse (Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here doing my best to keep from licking my computer screen when he goes to play the piano…. Enjoy!)
ETA: I totally have a music-crush on Next Door Neighbor. The insulation between our walls is pretty good, so I can only ever sort of hear it sometimes (unlike Stompy), but when he puts on something good, I often go press my ear to the wall and listen along for a minute or two. He likes to play Kid A which is my favorite Radiohead album, the other day he was playing Loveless by My Bloody Valentine (old-school awesome!), and he’s playing something right now that I don’t know what it is, but I really like it. The singer’s voice sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I’m this close to going over and asking what it is, but I’d worry that he thought it was an extraordinarily passive-aggressive attempt to get him to turn it down.
ETA 5/10/09: D’Oh! These are all gone, too. I’m on it!
Mary Clockwork by Anne Rumery
Price: $3.99 USD. 72810 words. Published on February 15, 2013. Fiction.
Mary Balfour is a precocious 13-year-old in Victorian London. In the mysterious absence of her parents, she's pretty much on her own. She wants Sherlock Holmes to train her as a consulting detective, but he turns her down, so she decides to get back at him. With the help of her servants and a group of less-than-respectable friends, she plans a crime that even he cannot solve.