Screams in the night

I was rudely awakened from a horrific nightmare a few minutes ago to the even more horrible sound of a terrified woman wailing. This was accompanied by the banging of doors, heavy stomping and other unabashed signs of an argument. This, however, isn’t a particularly new experience for me as my luck with neighbours follows a distinct pattern. But what was grating though was the woman’s annoying voice.

Even though her distress was obvious, I couldn’t once get myself to feel sorry for her or even have my usual (tainted) good Samaritan aspiration—where I contemplate knocking on their door to find out if all is well, despite the distinct possibility of getting beaten up (or worse), under the grand illusions of the payoffs accompanying rescuing a damsel in distress.

But her frickin’ whiny voice. Arggh! She’s causing my ears to bleed.

Oh, it’s suddenly gotten all quiet now.

And it’s been that way for a few minutes. Oh good, she must have run away or he must’ve killed her. Thank goodness. Now I can peacefully return to battling my own inner demons.

A programming note: Since the introduction of µ, a micro-journal featuring extremely small entries, my writing skills have gone further south.

2 thoughts on “Screams in the night”

  1. It’s never fun being awoken by someone else’s, ah, domestic issues, no matter what they sound like.

    Looks like, with the use of your micro journal, you’re posting more often, anyway, even if it is just a sentence or two here and there. It looks nearly like Twitter, but without the community aspect of it.

  2. Yes, it’s no fun no matter how they sound, but it’s even less fun when they sound raspy and whiny.

    And the reason µ looks very much like Twitter is because I use a Twitter-like clone to construct my posts. I just use a script to pull things from it to my journal (much like your Twitter feed incorporated into yours).

    It’s just, my writing style is (or at least it used to be) to construct entire entries from thoughts that could be expressed in single lines. This whole Twitter-like experience is a regression, where I’m forced to mush reasonably complete ideas to fit in under 140 characters.

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