on my end, i'll keep it down on the bellydance music



The kids in Unit One are apparently the sort that kiss and make up, and then some, after they fight. I was hoping they were the go-to-bed-mad kind who could be counted on to stew silently all night, but I guess they got all their processing done over the three hours they were fighting (with, of course, the television on). The moaning started just as I was going to bed, where I'd had big plans to comfort myself in the age-old fashion, and lasted for about twenty minutes. So I laid there with my hands chastely behind my head and just cried myself to sleep instead. I haven't cried in a few days, and it felt strange, although that might have been the sensation of the tears pooling around my (useless) orange foam ear plugs.



And I had to wake up early, to go model for this kind of strange but nice enough man with a big old warehouse studio space South of Market. When I'm up on the stand--in this case, an ancient kitchen table--I can see into the cars driving up the ramp that leads to the Bay Bridge. I try not to think about the corollary; I'm sure if there had been any accidents from drivers realizing they were seeing nekkid women, somebody would have said something to this guy. He's doing a whole series of me, trying to capture different emotional states: joy, paranoia. Today was sorrow, which I managed to fake for him somehow. Buried my head in the sleeping bag and cushion softening the box I was leaning against and went pretty much straight to sleep.



Here's an excerpt from the note I wrote when I got home. I'd gone up and knocked, hoping to talk to them in person, but I guess either they couldn't hear me over the television, or they just weren't feeling sociable.

...I have a problem I hope you can help me with. When they built this place, they obviously didn't think about sound. I can hear everything that happens up here. Everything. And while certain things, like fighting and fucking, obviously need to happen at their appropriate volumes, I wonder if I can ask you to keep it down on the other stuff? Loud television, walking around heavily late at night, the yelling...you may be young and energetic, but I am old and tired, and need to get some sleep.

I could have been less snarky, I could have brought them some cookies or something and tried to make nice-nice, but I'm simply too tired. And I've been up there before, they know there's a problem.

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