i am slightly freaking out about the neighbors on the other side of the wall of my apartment. lots of screeching voices. i can’t tell whether they are coming from an infant or an orgasm. but i am trying to focus and it’s just not happening. i have the white noise blasting but it’s only a band-aid.   all i really desire is silence.  it seems so little to ask for, but so hard to find.

and i really don’t feel like knocking on their door to tell them to stop pounding on my wall. i’d rather not know what’s going on in there.

maybe I could make them a CD recording of what I hear through the walls and write them a note I could slip under their door,  begging and imploring them to be a little considerate of their neighbor. Maybe that would suffice.  I know that might creep them out. and I don’t want to then be The Creepy Neighbor.

but i must do something.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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