December 1st, 2002

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

What Is That NOISE!?

The house pussy-corner from mine — the house from which emanates One Leaf Lutha's ubiquitous leafblower every Wednesday all fucking day long — the house that, due to One Leaf Lutha, makes my night-shift-workin' life a living hell — that house has come up with something new to torment me.

It's the second night in a row that it has happened. It only happens at night. Specifically, it only happens during those precious two or three hours I have to nap before work. I didn't get any sleep this evening, thanks to the neighbors, and I'm off to work in a moment. It's going to be a long night thanks to that fucking house.

There's this noise … I'm not sure I can quite describe it. It is reoccurring, about every four minutes, and it lasts anywhere from ten seconds to thirty-five seconds. It sounds like a train jamming its brakes on while riding on dry, flaking, rusty rails, as it runs over bags full of mewling babies. The train tracks are flanked by hundreds of chalkboards and hundreds of Shoquandas with long nails doing their worst — and this symphony, or cacophony, if you will, was then run through the latest sound processors and prepped as a sample track for your more obnoxious industrial/noize music.

There it goes again. Like Gabriel's horn announcing the apocolypse. Or like Gabriel's horn being sharpened by … one of those stone spinny blade sharpening wheels, whatever they're called. Or like Gabriel's horn being played by One Leaf Lutha using the expulsed air from his fucking leaf blower.

I just watched an X-File where Mulder experiences piercing tones in his head whenever he looks at a particular alien stone with Navajo etchings on it (it made sense in context of the plot — somewhat). He leans over, winces his eyes shut, plugs his ears and lets escape little moans of displeasure.

That's me!

Though I'm as tired and worn out as New Kids on the Block, I must say I am happy to go to work tonight, Soul Bowl and all, to get away from the Midnight Express that seems to be making a lengthy, and screeching pitstop at my rich neighbors' house.

And to think I'm the one in the neighborhood everyone is targeting for having the occasional "raucous" dinner party past 10pm.