Monday, 10 October 2011

Aside #7: Message to Unconscious Be-ings

October 2011.  Thanksgiving weekend.  

Yep, I'm going to write this and get it out of my system.  No one has to read it.   I could right-hand drawer it but I'm not going to do so.  It's funny/pathetic/maddening depending on the way it's read.   No photos though I'm sorely tempted.  

So, there I was for the dozenth time this summer, sitting outside on our front steps on Thanksgiving evening admiring the warm Fall of 2011, housecoat only, bare feet, my ever faithful dog/cat Spice sitting next to me silently meowing.  Weather is perfect.  Still, leaves starting to turn to their autumn foliage.  Idyllic, perfection time for reflection ... full stop.  

Except it's 3 a.m and most Sane People are asleep.  But there I sit fuming and glaring across the street at the Unconscious Be-ings partying in their driveway.  For the nth time this perfect summer and fall.  Why Unconscious Be-ings? Because I figure that no one in their right mind could be sooo stupid and sooo selfish and sooo inconsiderate of others that they would consciously decide to party... fight ..... argue ... talk loudly about petty, inane little lives and jealousies at 3 a.m. nearly EVER SINGLE NIGHT.  Be-ings being one below human level that is.

Now, a caveat.  In my youth, which some of you will recall, I was nooo saint.  "I party/we party was a verb at one point in my life and I declined this verb merrily.  But a) it was infrequent verbing; and b) we invited all the neighbours and warned them well in advance.  If it was problem, we changed the date.  We never had any police problems ... maybe once but that was because we called them (long story, another time).  

But back to my point ... every night? every single frigging night? The Be-ings are better than an alarm clock.  2:55 a.m.  I snap awake as a van arrives to drop them off and I speculate (for the millionth time) that they must be a band or groupies or whatever.  There is much loud conversation as the van idles in the driveway or on the street with Unconscious music blaring.  As the van leaves, there is loud honking and hootering among the beasts.  A Unconscious Be-ing at the helm of the van... Just great.  Thankfully none of us are driving the streets of Ottawa at the same time.    

The other Unconscious Be-ings usually retreat to the front or side steps of their lair.  A few nights back, one of them trips going up the stairs, falls noisily and laughs hysterically.  I secretly thrill at the thought that she may need a tetanus shot and stitches in the morning when the drugs wear off and she sobers up!  Nasty thought.  

Then, as if on cue the dog barks  ... the poor, poor creature ... to go out for a moment and then barks to go back in.  If the Unconscious took a double dose of their Unconscious pills or whatever they're on ... the dog will bark for a loooong time before one of the Be-ings becomes conscious enough to let it back in.  I've even walked across the street (yes, in my housecoat and bare feet) to see if I can get the creature (the dog I mean) and bring it back to our house for the night.  The dog just barked more hysterically ... but enough to rouse the Unconscious to let it in. 

But usually, the Unconscious retreat to the upstairs outdoor den/balcony.  There's even an elliptical training bike on the balcony and Once, just Once, one of the Unconscious used it for a moment to burn a Calorie and then hopped off.  Harrumph.  (I borrowed that joke from a friend... I still can't get the image out of my mind.) 

At 3 a.m. there's never any loud music (I decide that the Unconscious obviously had enough earlier in the evening).  They obviously believe "They" are The Fascinating Ones and their voices are their music.  Whatever.  From the weeks of listening to every word of their conversations (except when they all talk overtop of each other as the various drugs/alcohol kick in), I could write a book on all the sordid details of their sorry little lives.  Except why bother ... who cares who is zooming whom (the typical topic).  The only ones who care are other Unconscious Be-ings and probably can't read anyway so why would I write it.  

If it's a really bad Unconscious style evening, one of the Be-ings who has an earpiece implanted in his brain goes for a walk up and down the street.  He stalks back and forth bleeting expletive deleteds loudly into the night air.  He's the Violent Unconscious Be-ing.  Of course he has a Dog.  

The most bizarro/sad/disturbing/rage-inducing scene I witnessed this summer was Angry Unconscious Be-ing (Dog guy) in the driveway yelling at the Dog as an Amazon Drunk Woman strode past with two male minions stumbling along behind her like hyenas in heat sniffing after the estrogen-producing female.  Suddenly, the Amazon stops and bellows at the top of her considerable lungs:  "Stop abusing the f----- dog.  I saw him (The Violent Unconscious Be-ing I assume) kick it in the ribs."  Her ever-faithful minions try to coax her along the street to avoid an altercations.  She turns on her pack and exercises her lungs again:  "Don't f-----ing tell me what to do.  I know what I saw.  If I see something wrong, I say so."  She then turns back to take on the Be-ings and loud shouting ensues.  

I drift back into Unconsciousness myself and miss the end of that particular drama.  Next morning, I write one of many "Notes to Unconscious Be-ings" but I don't put it in their door, fearing a chance encounter of the bad kind.  On a couple of occasions, the police did show up, once 3x in one night, on one particularly ugly evening where there many fights and arguments taking place.  But even the police presence barely deters them.   

Actually, I thought we in the clear.  One evening not long ago all the lights were on and burly guys were throwing out a lot of furniture and junk onto the front lawn.  Angry Unconscious One and his brain implanted earpiece were screaming obscenities about:   "What the f---- does this mean?" into the airphone.  I/we/celebrated that they were being evicted and life would return to a normal Pleasant Valley Sunday neighbourhood.  I threw out all my Notes to Door.  

Alas and alack, it was not to be.  The Unconscious either procreated or cloned.  Girl Unconscious ones.  Mean Girl Unconscious Ones.  They've resumed the same evil patterns, bringing home male members of their species and "talking" all night on the balcony.  Last night, it was 3 a.m. until 5:45 a.m. when I figure they either decide to, ummm, "mate" (Spoiler alert:  Nasty sentence ... the expression "screw your brains out"... well, Unconscious Be-ings already did that.... maybe they should trying "screwing their brains in."  End of nasty sentence.    

Lots of you reading are saying:  "Just close the windows."  Yup, can do if it's cool enough.  It's an older home and air conditioning on 2nd level doesn't work well for hormonally challenged females with an internal temperature already set permanently on high... so I can't sleep without the night air.  Husband, already a notorious insomniac, does middle bedroom cocooning with window shut.  

Then there are those of you saying:  "Call 311 and report it as a noise violation... every night".  Another wise piece of advice.  I have decided to do this.  Funny the neighbours don't really hear the noise ... better air conditioning, barriers, white noise makers, elderly, exhausted young parents with children.... it's only the old broad with zero hormones who rages silently sitting on the front steps.  Nice weather eh?   

As I sit at 3 a.m. on the front steps watching the Unconscious drama unfolding, I chuckle about setting up the BEST speaker system available on their front porch around 8 a.m. each morning and playing a selection of great music:  Iron Butterfly "In a Gadda-da-vida", Chambers Brothers "Time has Come Today", Rolling Stones "Wipe Out", "Get Off of My Cloud", and "You Can't Always Get What Want",  and Jefferson Airplane "White Rabbit."  Way cool.  I know students and noise are a problem in these downtown neighbourhoods.  I was sad to hear that a friend/mentor of mine has given up on the students and sold his absolutely exquisite Victorian house not far from us because of boarding-house noise (with speakers set on front lawns) and is moving into the really settled part of centretown.  

But, hey, I just read that a cold weather spell is in the offing with six days of rain.  Ahhh, sleep.  Perchance even to dream.  Got that out of my system.  

Peace Unconscious Be-ings. 

No comments:

Post a Comment