Dear woman who lives downstairs,
I've made my peace with you listening to the news too loud in the evening and your tendency to speak just a hair too loud when you're out on the deck at night smoking. We renters can't be too picky and I've experienced a lot worse anyway. Besides, I'm sure there are plenty of noises we make up here that get on your nerves. For this I apologize.
But I am fed up with your inability to acknowledge the presence of me or my wife, even when you're standing on the porch with your boyfriend, who seems a decent guy and for his part can always meet a smile with a smile and often gets in the first hello. But as for you? Fuck you. Fuck the hangover you appear to be constantly nursing. Fuck your Saturday afternoon screaming matches on the phone with whoever. And fuck the note of world-weary superiority in your voice, which if I'm being perfectly honest is a whole lot more than a hair too loud. Just meeting my eyes once in the year you've lived down there would have been enough to convince me to withhold my judgment. Not making me feel like an idiot for offering something so square as a banal neighbourly greeting might have elicited some sympathy from me for the crippling emotional problems you may be labouring with.
You know what I'm going to do about it all? Nothing. I'll still say hello because that's what people who live next to one another do. And you can keep ignoring me. My imagination won't stop working at what it is that makes you the way you are and because of this I can't let myself off the hook. Maybe you're shy and haven't yet learned that you're coming off as rude. I don't know.
Fuck you, and isn't this weather crazy,
Your Upstairs Neighbours
I've made my peace with you listening to the news too loud in the evening and your tendency to speak just a hair too loud when you're out on the deck at night smoking. We renters can't be too picky and I've experienced a lot worse anyway. Besides, I'm sure there are plenty of noises we make up here that get on your nerves. For this I apologize.
But I am fed up with your inability to acknowledge the presence of me or my wife, even when you're standing on the porch with your boyfriend, who seems a decent guy and for his part can always meet a smile with a smile and often gets in the first hello. But as for you? Fuck you. Fuck the hangover you appear to be constantly nursing. Fuck your Saturday afternoon screaming matches on the phone with whoever. And fuck the note of world-weary superiority in your voice, which if I'm being perfectly honest is a whole lot more than a hair too loud. Just meeting my eyes once in the year you've lived down there would have been enough to convince me to withhold my judgment. Not making me feel like an idiot for offering something so square as a banal neighbourly greeting might have elicited some sympathy from me for the crippling emotional problems you may be labouring with.
You know what I'm going to do about it all? Nothing. I'll still say hello because that's what people who live next to one another do. And you can keep ignoring me. My imagination won't stop working at what it is that makes you the way you are and because of this I can't let myself off the hook. Maybe you're shy and haven't yet learned that you're coming off as rude. I don't know.
Fuck you, and isn't this weather crazy,
Your Upstairs Neighbours
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
I'm so behind on my jazz, I've been relying on what the library has to offer. That sounds amazing why have I not heard of this? I must get back on it.