THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP. Every night with the techno music. I'm in no mood for this. Not now, not ever. The beat is un-changing and un-ending. 12:03am. I'll not go to bed for several more hours but it's still annoying. It's never been this loud. It's like a joke. A joke with a bass line that rattles the fixtures.
Surveying my apartment I find that it's loudest in the kitchen, but I can't pinpoint its origin. Is the music coming from that dude downstairs? I've heard him practicing blues scales on his guitar. Doesn't seem like the late-night techno type. Maybe it's the other kid on the first floor. The one that lets his newspapers pile up. Why do you even subscribe man? And how hard is it to kick them inside when you're walking in with your white Sean John coat and your jauntily tilted oversized cap?
Could be the old guy next door, but that seems unlikely. I recently found out that he's keeping track of my comings and goings, which I find slightly disconcerting. One time his medicine was accidentally delivered to my mailbox and he didn't even thank me when I gave it back. I could have sold it on the street to the young hoppers, buddy. A thank you would be nice.
I'm not sure what the story is with the people above me, but I know they like to move furniture around at three in the morning. I think I've only seen them twice. They have a very 1992 vibe about them. Maybe the music is coming from them.
I'm determined to find the source. I'm not looking for a confrontation, I just want to know where it's coming from. I re-apply my hoodie and head out for a leisurely stroll around the building. It's not coming from downstairs. I know that. I walk around to the other side, taking my sweet time, listening for any stray THUMP that might give me the answer. Nothing. I walk up to the third floor on the other side where my friend Rachel used to live. I loiter creepily in front of the front doors. Nothing. Nothing on the third floor of my side either. This is ridiculous. The source of the music has eluded me completely.
On the way back a goose hisses at me. I hate that goose.