Cunt has a friend. He’s been there now since Sunday, needless to say, he must be as much of a fucking cunt as Cunt or he wouldn’t be in his company. This is extraordinarily bad news because now Cunt Co., are installed in the room directly below my lounge (as opposed to the one over my kitchen) making me privy to their Attenborough male bonding rituals which includes grunting faux chuckles, faux aggression, faux faux and playing music that goes boom boom boom, you know, the stuff that is one below a fucking lobotomy.
Possibly more annoying is that the volume levels aren’t enough to cause me to stamp on the ceiling/ go and complain/ make a fucking phone call to a very nasty mate, mainly because they’re inconsistent and when they do breach what I consider an acceptable sound level they’re not unacceptable for long enough. It’s psychological warfare, essentially.
Needless to say, at around 11.30-ish just as we went to bed it was sort of quiet but by fucking 2am the guitars were out, but only for 2 minutes. Just enough to wake me up and leave me fuming in the darkness for an hour until sleep finally clasped me to its soporific bosom and took me away from myself.
I’m fairly knackered today, but not too bad. We didn’t drink much last night, the best thing is that Myfwt wasn’t particularly fussed about the sound from downstairs and she slept through the noise in the wee hours, so this morning she was all bright and breezy which is always enough to put me in good cheer. Incidentally, it’s a beautiful day today, cold with a sharp edge to the air but the most sensational golden light pervades, the plants and trees are frosted with glitter, concrete and metal serves to frame the bluest of cloudless skies and make the geometry of the city one of desirable delicious contemplation, as opposed to the typical existentialist angst of the mundane. It’s fucking gorgeous out.
Work is busy at the moment, not in a good way either. There is a sense of desperation in the air as we struggle to meet deadlines and figures for the month, which has been cut short by a fabulously positioned Christmas in a fortnight from today; indeed, in a week today I’ll be enjoying my last day at work for 2007. This will have ramifications for Piqued.co.uk but I’ll let you know more nearer the time.
For now have some of this.