manunderstress.com

I’ve had two itinerant visitors recently, the first of which transformed the house next door to me, approximately 15ft away, into a 24×7 crunk-hall fiesta, booooooming in such a way that I could barely hear the internet, or my silly thoughts. That made me mad. I tried the Buddhist thing, I tried to ignore it, I tried to get used to it, but it would sneak up on me unawares, and I would be fuming like a madman outside asking whoever was on their porch at the time, visibly irritated but polite, to “maybe turn the bass down a little bit.” These requests were often met, however shruggingly blithe, yet the next night retained no memory of the previous one. When I daydreamed about it, I imagined noise so persistent that I would eventually loose it, street arguments and gun battles would ensue (I would have to get a gun of course, a really good one), and as is typical to my imaginings a tragedy would occur, when one of them would grab a nearby groupie to use as a human shield, as villains do, and all of a sudden I have unintentionally taken the life of an innocent. Or I am hit, and become a celebrity vegetable, and the fucking Republicans try and keep me alive. The horror.

My other visitor actually moved into my mailbox for a few weeks, on and off, and let me pet it once when I was drunk. It was amazing, I exclaimed to drunk onlookers, who didn’t seemed as impressed as I was. But instantly a connection was made, unlike my neighbors, who I instantly hated with that animal hate humans reserve especially for each other. The bushes would rustle often when I passed through the front door, and sometimes I’d get a glimpse of the little lady flying haphazardly away in a low, clumsy course across the yard. She’s here to stay I thought. Then one night leaving the house, I was startled to see her sitting so calmly in the mailbox, alone, and she returned the fright and flew away. I then stood outside the car in what must be considered paralyzing maternal agony for a few moments, worrying what would become of her, before remembering that I eat chicken, and therefore it’s kind of hypocritical to care about stray birds.

But then an interesting thing happened as I was further conspiring with the neighbors about the new menace, preparing for the worst; both my visitors vanished without a trace.