The 5th line of my 23rd livejournal entry is as follows:
the lady bitched me about about how we should “enjoy the beauty of the area–but please clean up the bottles and cans that you bring” … i said “i’m sorry about that, i didn’t have any bottles” and she looked at me with utter contempt and hate.
The post after that, my 24th, shows that nothing has changed since November 28, 2001. In that post at 7:18am, I dictate my plan to continue staying awake (after being awake all night) so that I’d go to a DeCadence sproul performance (which, then, were Wendesdays at noon). Laugh.
She left her pitchpipe and a box of CDs in Morgan and only realized about the former at Au Coquelet and the latter as she was walking home and realized the didn’t have her keys–since she put her keys in the cardboard box when she ran home to get them at 6:50pm, ten minutes before Cloud9 was supposed to go on. Cloud9 went on at 7:15. The blackboards were covered in camoflauge mesh and looked really good and there was a palm tree (plastic) and fruits laying about (plastic) and pineapples (paper). And octopuses/pii (stuffed) when Spot the Octopus sang.
Someone is yelling outside in the parking lot right now. He or she sounds like a cat. Sometimes I can hear a beat through this wall to my right or through the ceiling at 4am and I don’t feel so alone. Shit, maybe a cat climbed up the scaffolding and can’t get down. I am going to close my window. I have visions of waking up in my bunkbed with a black-and-white cat purring on my chest. I have a flashlight. Last semester, my 45a professor made some side comment about some author that made fun of epistlary novels where everything is immediate because everything is said in the present tense. Oh my god I swear it’s a cat.
Ok. I got up, I pushed aside the curtain, I saw nothing, but I heard something that sounded like “somebody please” at which point I completely freaked out and dared not to shine my flashlight out there and should I call the police, or maybe it’s just someone crying in a nearby apartment on the phone or something and their window is open, there are resident managers but I don’t know how happy they’d be if I roused them at 4am and said “Um, I’m sorry but there’s somebody moaning and wailing and I can hear him or her in my room and I’m really freaked out that they’re out on the scaffolding, please fix this problem magically because obvoiusly you must have magic powers.”
I’m getting more scared by the second. There was scaffolding by my window for a year and I was never afraid and I even opened my window then and I am so FUCKING afraid right now. So much for writing about the decadence concert. So much for sleep.
Edited 4:36am: Ok, the sound has stopped. I’ve been talking to Lam online who is calming me down. I must be wildly extrapolating. Overactive imagination. It was probably nothing. I am going to sleep. Now.