that's awasum

Apartment 326
08.27.03 + 1:44 p.m.

If the sound affects are to be believed, the inhabitants of apartments #325 and #327 in my building give unbelievable head. Power to them, I say. Spread the joy. Unfortunately, as the inhabitant of #326, I wish they could spread the joy a little more quietly, or perhaps when I'm not home.

I am not a twisted voyeur. Neither, however, am I deaf. Their love-noises are akin to a neighbor tap-dancing directly above you, or overdoing the bass on their stereo. Except, in this case, it hardly seems appropriate for me to pound on the wall and ask them to keep it down.

Being sandwiched between those two love dens, I can't help but think I'm standing in the way of what could be a beautiful 4-way friendship between hetero couples #325 and #327. Because, of course, if #325 was actually #326, the couple would overhear #327, and of course, it only stands to reason that, seeing how much they have in common, they'd get together for tea followed by bacchnalian depravity. Of course. The fact that my apartment separates theirs is obviously the only obstacle in such a commonplace course of events.

So, it's around 11:30 PM last night, rehearsal is over, and I'm in my apartment overhearing the affirmative "Mph! Mph! MMmmph!" from lady #325's boyfriend, evidently receiving the blowjob of his life, at the same time that Mr. #327's girlfriend is emitting the staccato question, "Uh? Uh? Uh? Uh?" from the creakity bed separated from mine by nothing but the thin studio wall.

(Why do so many woman orgasm with question marks? It makes me want to yell through the wall, "Just fucking answer her, already!" Then she resolves things with an "Oohhhhhh," and it becomes evident that he has, indeed, answered. I hate my life.)

Neighbor-lovin' in surround sound. Bloody depressing sometimes.

So I go to the beach to see if I can see Mars, which I don't know isn't supposed to be visible until Wednesday, (meaning tonight, I'm still in flashback, remember) and there's nothing. Not a single star, not a moon, only a couple of airplanes, distant flares on the water, and a boat in the distance. The entire landscape is overwhelmingly black; it's like being trapped under an enormous bowl. The only indication of a division between lake and sky is the faraway boat, and a few odd, orphaned waves created by a skirmish between water and rock. Otherwise, the night is amazingly nothing and everything at once. Beautiful.

I get over my misplaced disappointment over not seeing Mars, saying aloud, "At least I tried," and I walk back home. When I get back to my apartment, the lovers are sleeping peacefully, or at least, quietly.

It turned out to be a lovely night. Rather wonderful, in it's unfulfilling way.

And tonight, I will see Mars. You should, too. Or, you could wait another 60,000 years to see it this close again. Up to you.

Fully humbled,

Luvabeans

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.
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words Š luvabeans, 2003 - 2004