Saturday, February 07, 2004
An Open Letter To My Upstairs Neighbor
Re: Drums at 5 AM aren't cool
Dear Neighbor,
I realize this is an indirect way to get a message to you. Since you don't know me by name, and probably haven't heard of my film, and are a ten-year-old kid, you probably don't read my blog.
I am not pursuing my normal mode of communication with you (banging on the ceiling), mainly because my ceiling is one of those pointy stucco jobs and the plaster crumbles off and showers all over me.
In general it's hard to avoid making an intrusive amount of noise when you have a family of four and criminally thin hardwood floors. Every time you move around the thuds reverberate throughout my apartment. And much of the added emphasis comes from the natural energy of three young boys. But one way to not make noise: don't play drums at 5 AM.
Worse than waking up to the sound of drums playing was the disgruntled and paranoid state I was left in when you quit. Trying as hard as I could to go back to sleep, I became keenly aware of every bump and shuffle your family makes in the early morning hours, expecting it to start up again. At 6:45 I was still wide awake, discerning and cataloguing every sound (Was that a snare?)... I swear you were walking around past the drum set and occasionally hitting it at random intervals. I have no idea why you would do this.
You may be one of the only non-crazy people in this building. It's Crackhead Irene, the old lady who cuts the grass with scissors, Slingblade, the woman who yells "Fuck!" to herself, the guy who sits in his boxers all day and plays blackjack with teddy bears, and us. Your mom is even a little nuts, so you may have some emotional difficulties as a result, for which I sympathize. But you're not crazy. You're just an annoying kid. Don't make me kick your ass.
Sincerely,
Francis
Re: Drums at 5 AM aren't cool
Dear Neighbor,
I realize this is an indirect way to get a message to you. Since you don't know me by name, and probably haven't heard of my film, and are a ten-year-old kid, you probably don't read my blog.
I am not pursuing my normal mode of communication with you (banging on the ceiling), mainly because my ceiling is one of those pointy stucco jobs and the plaster crumbles off and showers all over me.
In general it's hard to avoid making an intrusive amount of noise when you have a family of four and criminally thin hardwood floors. Every time you move around the thuds reverberate throughout my apartment. And much of the added emphasis comes from the natural energy of three young boys. But one way to not make noise: don't play drums at 5 AM.
Worse than waking up to the sound of drums playing was the disgruntled and paranoid state I was left in when you quit. Trying as hard as I could to go back to sleep, I became keenly aware of every bump and shuffle your family makes in the early morning hours, expecting it to start up again. At 6:45 I was still wide awake, discerning and cataloguing every sound (Was that a snare?)... I swear you were walking around past the drum set and occasionally hitting it at random intervals. I have no idea why you would do this.
You may be one of the only non-crazy people in this building. It's Crackhead Irene, the old lady who cuts the grass with scissors, Slingblade, the woman who yells "Fuck!" to herself, the guy who sits in his boxers all day and plays blackjack with teddy bears, and us. Your mom is even a little nuts, so you may have some emotional difficulties as a result, for which I sympathize. But you're not crazy. You're just an annoying kid. Don't make me kick your ass.
Sincerely,
Francis
