Sunday, May 16, 2010

Mind the Super!

I'm hoping Herc and Carver come screeching around the corner for their evening dose of 'rip and run' but, instead, the most I can expect is Terry from Athenry to give them - these revelling studenty fuckers - the old...

"...would yis mind keeping the noise down a bit, lads? The fucker next door wants his beauty (read: staving off death) sleep and yis are being a bit loud and ye should really keep the music... Is that a keg? Sure I'll come in for the one. Don't tell the aul super on me, wink, nudge."

I've had it done to me or, more to the point, we had it done to us back in the 32A days. Some crank of a neighbour telling the guards on us, importuning us to turn down the Gloria Estefan mix-tape and to stop burning skateboards in the front garden, so I figure my time has come.

My time has come.

Listening to these wankers shouting through the styrofoam walls in the minor hours, some girl called Gráinne screeching every time Florence And The Fucking Machine sings that song offof Sex And The City, cutlery used as defence weapons, bottles crashing against cement floors, a boy called George that they all pretend to like, the one that cries and laughs indistinguishably, the caterwauls and scrapes and their marketing projects waiting for another night.

I've been listening to shit like this for three years and fourteen days so I, well, I cracked and rang the 'joy, or the station house aside it. That was an hour ago and there's no sign of a dimming so I reckon Terry - our friend the guard from Athenry - has moved on to the Jagermeister.

What's the rub, the tipping point?

That I didn't pre-empt this with a drowning.
That I didn't see it coming, this end of college hoopla, and fix myself with several drams of Jameson or a bottle of something called Valpolicella.
That I have no drink in the flat save for the potent mixture of licorice and vodka made for me by the ex and, good fuck, that's years old at this stage and I can't stomach aniseed.
That I'm on my fifth cup of tea and the piss is running out me unbid.
That my youth passed away from me the second I made that phone call tonight.
That I'm so lonesome I could dial.

Still. Still, I'm at the start of my holidays and on Monday I'm going to the quietest place on this island to quietly judge the young from afar. That'll be nice. I'll outdrink them too.

= = =

Fógra: I only put in the line 'That I'm so lonesome I could dial' because I liked its metre. No need to 'aww' and 'ahh' and tell me I'm delightful.

I know I am.

13 comments:

McMuck and the Mystery of the Kuúgleflarg said...

It a rude awakening. When you realise your 20s came and went quicker than one of those raucous nights in 32A and suddenly your ears were much more sensitive to the wailings of drunkards and Grainne.

The best way to cope with that desperate feeling of lost youth is to invite me over the night they finally get down to that marketing project.

I'll bring the Gloria Estefan tape and several cans of whatever it is the young folk drink today, and we'll howl and laugh and screech Don't Wanna Lose You until we need some of that beauty (read: staving off death) sleep of our own.

Radge said...

Just as long as you promise not to get all 'handsy'.

This Limbo said...

You should talk to Juliette. She managed to sort a similar problem in her block. Mind you, she is far scarier than you Radge

Radge said...

Regina - If she was a wrestler, she'd be the Tullamore Tornado. But she's not. So she isn't.

Conan Drumm said...

"I only put in the line 'That I'm so lonesome I could dial' because I liked its meter"
That's sic, you need the time off.

Radge said...

That's sic? I don't follow.

Conan Drumm said...

Fiddling the metre!

Radge said...

I may as well have written color. Duly rectified.

Kath Lockett said...

So they're marketing students, eh?

....the best thing you can do is slip a note under their door saying, 'this is the best you'll EVER do, poor pissants.'

Holemaster said...

Jesus, marketing students. Imagine studying for a degree in being a self obsessed wanker.

Kitty Cat said...

Ugh. I work part time in two places, one where I have to deal with marketing people and the other where I deal with TDs. I'd take TDs any day of the week.

aoifs said...

Get some speakers and at 8am every morning after the night before, put it full sound against their wall. A bit of black sabbath is always tough to sleep through, especially if you've a mega hangover. They'll soon get the message..unless they're hardcore and start drinking again (doubtful if they are marketing students!).

Had a year of the studenty fun next door until the management company (fancy apt) kicked them out. Now all I need is to sound proof the place from late night washing machines...

Radge said...

So we're none of us fans of the marketists? Understood.

Aoifs - I'd probably pay more rent if it would mean some peace and quiet. Just hoping they fuck off for the summer now.