Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David did it. Maybe I can, too. In blog format.
The old topics are boring me. I'm really no longer interested in things of the political nature. There doesn't seem to be a purpose or point anymore in trying to inform. It is as it is. Maybe I'll just start posting of things, conversations I have with others. Although, most of the people I know are quite normal - certainly none are as eccentric and obnoxious as the characters on Seinfeld.
I could always exaggerate...
Maybe I'll join Facebook, although there aren't really too many people from my past with whom I would like to reconnect (assuming they're even on the network). And it all seems so trendy anyway. Oooh, I'm on My Space, I'm on Facebook, are you? I've never been one to do whatever is hip or popular...
Who knows. For the time being, here's something I experienced yesterday...
Picture it: I'm in bed, sleeping soundly when suddenly, the sound of banging thumping awakens me. What the hell, I think, tossing off my sleep mask, throwing back the covers. In the typical still-sleepy stupor fashion, I walk out into the living room to ascertain what the noise is and where it's coming from.
Next door. Of course. The college boys are out of school for the summer and are being loud.
"Little fuckers," I mutter to myself, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. The banging has continued enough for me to realize it has a rhythm. Drums, I think.
Real drums or those WI drums? I stay still silently and listen.
Definitely real drums.
Great, I think. I love drums. I'm a musician afterall. However, there are only 2 places for drums: 1) Live concert venue; 2) In a soundproof room.
Then I hear the strumming of an electric guitar. The drums have increased in intensity.
Rushing back to the bedroom, I throw on some clothes, thinking no way am I going to put up with this. So I go next door and pound on their front door. Some kid opens it up.
"Yeah?" he asks.
"Is that a real drum set?" I ask.
"Uh huh," he says.
"Yeah, well, I can hear that in my house and it's very loud," I said. "If you boys are going to play drums like that, you need to soundproof the room."
"Ok, I'll tell them to keep it down," he said.
"Drums don't have a volume knob," I said, thinking of the numerous noise issues we've had with young folks while wanting to scream 'young single people under the age of 25 should not be living in their own place'. "Soundproof the room. There are noise ordinances in this city."
"Ok, sorry," he said.
"That's ok," I said. "This time."
5 hours later, the drums started up again. The drumming stopped after 15 minutes.
It started up again 3 hours later, this time for just a couple of minutes.
In the meantime, I have drawn circles on the wall on our adjoining wall in the outline of drums. I will be banging on these spots if I hear that thumping beat again. Perhaps a 6am musical montage would suffice.