I have a new enemy. The well hidden, but completely un-silent kind.
Our neighbours below have some sort of bizarre resolution that they have, and continue to, fail several times daily. Infact, they fail it in fifteen-minute increments from 5:00am until around 11:45am every, single day. Most noticeably on weekends.
Our neighbours alarm clock isn’t the friendly, calm, Lionel Ritchie, KBIG 101 smooth jazz spewing kind. It is the Doomsday, run-for-shelter-air-raid variety. That almost, industrial metal on metal screech that defies any soul to ignore it. I honestly don’t know how they sleep through it, for periods into minutes, every fifteen-minute interval for hours upon hours.
At first I thought they must have been away for the weekend, yet the erratic periods between on and off, quickly removed that excuse. Shelby soon began to pound the floor with her foot. 5.15am on a Saturday is even a little early for us, particularly after
a favorable night on the red. Pretty soon a few of the neighbours became involved. A common cause if you will. Pam went so far as to go downstairs and confront them. That came after she yelled out the side window a few times. I did the same one morning around 6am. Dylan, the twenty-something unemployed, yet always benevolent (except when it came to talking to his baby’s mama on his cell phone on the sidewalk out the front) came to the door. Eyes full of sleep, a pot and meth hangover from last week’s binge hung like a flag over his body. He seemed genuinely surprised, and ofcourse, apologetic. I then realized the alarm belonged to his mum, or perhaps mum’s boyfriend. It astounded me that he could not hear it, sleeping on the couch outside the room. That was almost on year ago. The alarm continues to screech and squawk to this day, broken by fifteen-minute intervals of silence.
What is it with the SNOOZE button? It encourages only undesirable traits. Mediocrity, tardiness,, sloth. Well, that accurately summarizes the offenders. I wonder what the original design was supposed to achieve? What sort of luxury the inventor figured he had stumbled upon? Was it akin to heated towel racks or chemical glove and boot warmers? Kind of defeats the purpose of an alarm clock doesn’t it?
I now have a resolution. To permanently disable every snooze button I find on an alarm clock and to never again use one. I will lead by example and practice my crusade of common courtesy, ‘outside the box’ consideration and punctuality. This I swear to uphold, at least in fifteen-minute increments.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
One part water, 3 parts gangsta
Running through the sand on Alamitos Beach, I think to myself, 'thank God I am not barefoot'. How I miss the days of soft sand sprints, running the tide line as water and sand go to work as a loofa on the old feet. Nowadays, 2 inches of duomax and solyte separate our union.. and about 2 millimetres of styrofoam, a drinking straw, some El Pollo Loco wrappers, a used condom, three soiled nappies and countless strains of rogue bacteria.
What is it about Long Beach that cause the people to not care about its appearance or functionality? Sydney-siders would verbally abuse, then physically beat anyone who eats their noxious take away food then drops the wrappers, the styrofoam and half the meal, whilst they walk off with reckless abandon. I just don't get it....
Why does the USA still allow the use of styrofoam? It was outlawed in Australia in the early 90's. Do I need to move back there to escape it? I mean, seriously. There are countless products that will just as efficiently wrap or contain food with even better thermal retention and liquid-tightness properties. Is styrofoam really that much cheaper and lighter? It certainly does not bio-degrade and the trash dozers on the beach only act to shred and smash it into harder to pick up pieces, a calling card we will leave for our great grandchildren.
An exercise in futility perhaps? I have been told to change the things I have control over, to accept the things I cannot change, and to have the wisdom to know the difference. Perhaps wisdom is not a trait I have matured into at this age, for I cannot see, for the life of me, why certain things like this are tolerated. That and water wasting (look for a future post along with video. Yay!)
So back to the sandpit... the really dirty, festy, render-me-an-ear-infection one. It's no wonder property prices on this beach are lower than anywhere else in the state that has a direct water frontage. It's no wonder no one swims. Except all those kids in shirts and jeans..... (now, now)
So what is the solution in my opinion?
Eliminate the Breakwater, at least in part, and institute an environmental awareness campaign that actually ENFORCES (a strange word around these parts) the legislature. The rest will sort itself out naturally.
Until then, I will run and cough and splutter and be generally pained by the level of apathy.
I will enroll in a yoga class (ironically, I just typed yoda class), to deal with my inner demons.
I will continue to sporadically volunteer for the CLEAN ALAMITOS BEACH, 2nd Saturday of every month pelican-walk (or was it flamingo? Or pigeon?) Regardless, I will trudge the sand for about an hour whilst passers-by mutter 'I wonder what he did?' I figure cleaning this place up seems so banal to most that the only way I would do it would be through mandatory community service.
I will continue to stoop and pick up someone else's COLT 45 can, another's lip gloss and a over populated families $2.49 chicken and soda family value special.
I will cringe and stifle my yack when I shake my gloved hand to dislodge last night's euphoric, random, tight and dark encounter; yet thankfully safe, savored in a micro-thin, pink flavoured and studded prophylactic souvenir case and I will continue to fill more bags like this one (pictured).
Anyone know the sorority girl that may have lost this badge? I want to return her genetic souvenir too.... never know when that might come in handy.
Woopty Woop Mutha Wooooot!
What is it about Long Beach that cause the people to not care about its appearance or functionality? Sydney-siders would verbally abuse, then physically beat anyone who eats their noxious take away food then drops the wrappers, the styrofoam and half the meal, whilst they walk off with reckless abandon. I just don't get it....
Why does the USA still allow the use of styrofoam? It was outlawed in Australia in the early 90's. Do I need to move back there to escape it? I mean, seriously. There are countless products that will just as efficiently wrap or contain food with even better thermal retention and liquid-tightness properties. Is styrofoam really that much cheaper and lighter? It certainly does not bio-degrade and the trash dozers on the beach only act to shred and smash it into harder to pick up pieces, a calling card we will leave for our great grandchildren.
An exercise in futility perhaps? I have been told to change the things I have control over, to accept the things I cannot change, and to have the wisdom to know the difference. Perhaps wisdom is not a trait I have matured into at this age, for I cannot see, for the life of me, why certain things like this are tolerated. That and water wasting (look for a future post along with video. Yay!)
So back to the sandpit... the really dirty, festy, render-me-an-ear-infection one. It's no wonder property prices on this beach are lower than anywhere else in the state that has a direct water frontage. It's no wonder no one swims. Except all those kids in shirts and jeans..... (now, now)
So what is the solution in my opinion?
Eliminate the Breakwater, at least in part, and institute an environmental awareness campaign that actually ENFORCES (a strange word around these parts) the legislature. The rest will sort itself out naturally.
Until then, I will run and cough and splutter and be generally pained by the level of apathy.
I will enroll in a yoga class (ironically, I just typed yoda class), to deal with my inner demons.
I will continue to sporadically volunteer for the CLEAN ALAMITOS BEACH, 2nd Saturday of every month pelican-walk (or was it flamingo? Or pigeon?) Regardless, I will trudge the sand for about an hour whilst passers-by mutter 'I wonder what he did?' I figure cleaning this place up seems so banal to most that the only way I would do it would be through mandatory community service.
I will continue to stoop and pick up someone else's COLT 45 can, another's lip gloss and a over populated families $2.49 chicken and soda family value special.
I will cringe and stifle my yack when I shake my gloved hand to dislodge last night's euphoric, random, tight and dark encounter; yet thankfully safe, savored in a micro-thin, pink flavoured and studded prophylactic souvenir case and I will continue to fill more bags like this one (pictured).
Anyone know the sorority girl that may have lost this badge? I want to return her genetic souvenir too.... never know when that might come in handy.
Woopty Woop Mutha Wooooot!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
5.8
Thought I should let you all know that we are okay. A 5.6 –5.8 hit this morning, shortly before noon. Shook the place up pretty good. I was 7 stories up in the office shitter... Washed hands, walked out the door, felt a few pounds lighter; figured that was a good sign, then felt immediately nauseous.... And thought some homer in the WC must have slipped me something. A real feeling of inner-body imbalance. Could the morning constitutional have been that profound? Or was I experiencing some sort of early thirties stroke of sorts? WTF?
I turned into the hallway to watch it snake and roll before my eyes, tossing me softly side to side (like walking down the bow of a ship) I thought 2 things.
1. I have definitely been drugged.
2. I better get down this hallway before the bag men hog-tie me and get me into the back of some drive-by van to question me about last month’s shipment to Panama.
Then I realised this was my first earthquake of magnitude. Weird.
Throwing the office door open I announced that people should stand in the door frames. Funny how all the PSA paraphernalia comes back when you most need it...
My twenty year old assistant looked at me, riveted to her now sliding around the floor chair, filing cabinet drawers sliding open and shut, doors swinging and slamming closed, and she scrunched up her face and began to cry, in that little kid (well , I guess 20yr old) way.
“Camille. For fuck’s sake. Get in the door way.” Empathy has never been my strong point.
40 odd seconds later the heaving and shaking subdued to a gradual roll. The building is on rollers itself (thankfully) skated around back and forth what felt like a good 2-3 metres. Trippy indeed.
Looking out my window and watching the cars roll the extent of their handbrake or park-gear engage on the rooftop parking of the structure opposite, I realised that nature has an inherent knowledge of this sort of thing. The birds had been clustered together in large flocks the past few days, nervously squawking and circling around, almost too timid to land anywhere. The morning was unusually overcast and even cool. Those same birds now looked at me through the glass, their beady, black, lifeless eyes cawing - “Told you so. Silly fucker with the corner glass office.”
Once diminished, I confronted our publisher Mark who lamented that he had been stuck in the elevator on the way up the entire quake and felt nothing. Whilst he begged for big comeback aftershock, I excused myself, grabbed Camille and headed over to the pub for a couple of pints to take the edge off.
Very strange feeling indeed. Aftershocks are predicted for the next 2-3 days.
So, happy to say that Shelby and I are fine and the condo is still standing. Shame it didn’t come a few days earlier – could have helped me shake the tiles off the wall of the bathroom and saved the jackhammer rental.
I turned into the hallway to watch it snake and roll before my eyes, tossing me softly side to side (like walking down the bow of a ship) I thought 2 things.
1. I have definitely been drugged.
2. I better get down this hallway before the bag men hog-tie me and get me into the back of some drive-by van to question me about last month’s shipment to Panama.
Then I realised this was my first earthquake of magnitude. Weird.
Throwing the office door open I announced that people should stand in the door frames. Funny how all the PSA paraphernalia comes back when you most need it...
My twenty year old assistant looked at me, riveted to her now sliding around the floor chair, filing cabinet drawers sliding open and shut, doors swinging and slamming closed, and she scrunched up her face and began to cry, in that little kid (well , I guess 20yr old) way.
“Camille. For fuck’s sake. Get in the door way.” Empathy has never been my strong point.
40 odd seconds later the heaving and shaking subdued to a gradual roll. The building is on rollers itself (thankfully) skated around back and forth what felt like a good 2-3 metres. Trippy indeed.
Looking out my window and watching the cars roll the extent of their handbrake or park-gear engage on the rooftop parking of the structure opposite, I realised that nature has an inherent knowledge of this sort of thing. The birds had been clustered together in large flocks the past few days, nervously squawking and circling around, almost too timid to land anywhere. The morning was unusually overcast and even cool. Those same birds now looked at me through the glass, their beady, black, lifeless eyes cawing - “Told you so. Silly fucker with the corner glass office.”
Once diminished, I confronted our publisher Mark who lamented that he had been stuck in the elevator on the way up the entire quake and felt nothing. Whilst he begged for big comeback aftershock, I excused myself, grabbed Camille and headed over to the pub for a couple of pints to take the edge off.
Very strange feeling indeed. Aftershocks are predicted for the next 2-3 days.
So, happy to say that Shelby and I are fine and the condo is still standing. Shame it didn’t come a few days earlier – could have helped me shake the tiles off the wall of the bathroom and saved the jackhammer rental.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
1 part water, 3 parts Gangster
Running through the sand on Alamitos Beach, I think to myself, 'thank God I am not barefoot'. How I miss the days of soft sand sprints, running the tide line as water and sand go to work as a loofa on the old feet. Nowadays, 2 inches of duomax and solyte separate our union.. and about 2 millimetres of styrofoam, a drinking straw, some El Pollo Loco wrappers, a used condom, three soiled nappies and countless strains of rogue bacteria.
What is it about Long Beach that cause the people to not care about its appearance or functionality? Sydney-siders would verbally abuse, then physically beat anyone who eats their noxious take away food then drops the wrappers, the styrofoam and half the meal, whilst they walk off with reckless abandon. I just don't get it....
Why does the USA still allow the use of styrofoam? It was outlawed in Australia in the early 90's. Do I need to move back there to escape it? I mean, seriously. There are countless products that will just as efficiently wrap or contain food with even better thermal retention and liquid-tightness properties. Is styrofoam really that much cheaper and lighter? It certainly does not bio-degrade and the trash dozers on the beach only act to shred and smash it into harder to pick up pieces, a calling card we will leave for our great grandchildren.
An exercise in futility perhaps? I have been told to change the things I have control over, to accept the things I cannot change, and to have the wisdom to know the difference. Perhaps wisdom is not a trait I have matured into at this age, for I cannot see, for the life of me, why certain things like this are tolerated. That and water wasting (look for a future post along with video. Yay!)
So back to the sandpit... the really dirty, festy, render-me-an-ear-infection one. It's no wonder property prices on this beach are lower than anywhere else in the state that has a direct water frontage. It's no wonder no one swims. Except all those kids in shirts and jeans..... (now, now)
So what is the solution in my opinion?
Eliminate the Breakwater, at least in part, and institute an environmental awareness campaign that actually ENFORCES (a strange word around these parts) the legislature. The rest will sort itself out naturally.
Until then, I will run and cough and splutter and be generally pained by the level of apathy.
I will enroll in a yoga class (ironically, I just typed yoda class), to deal with my inner demons.
I will continue to sporadically volunteer for the CLEAN ALAMITOS BEACH, 2nd Saturday of every month pelican-walk (or was it flamingo? Or pigeon?) Regardless, I will trudge the sand for about an hour whilst passers-by mutter 'I wonder what he did?' I figure cleaning this place up seems so banal to most that the only way I would do it would be through mandatory community service.
I will continue to stoop and pick up someone else's COLT 45 can, another's lip gloss and a over populated families $2.49 chicken and soda family value special.
I will cringe silently when I flick into the trash bag last night's euphoric, random, tight and dark encounter; yet thankfully safe, savored in a micro-thin, pink flavoured and studded prophylactic souvenir case and I will continue to fill more bags like this one (pictured).
Anyone know the sorority girl that may have lost this badge? I want to return her genetic souvenir too.... never know when that might come in handy. Woopty Woop Mutha Wooooot!
What is it about Long Beach that cause the people to not care about its appearance or functionality? Sydney-siders would verbally abuse, then physically beat anyone who eats their noxious take away food then drops the wrappers, the styrofoam and half the meal, whilst they walk off with reckless abandon. I just don't get it....
Why does the USA still allow the use of styrofoam? It was outlawed in Australia in the early 90's. Do I need to move back there to escape it? I mean, seriously. There are countless products that will just as efficiently wrap or contain food with even better thermal retention and liquid-tightness properties. Is styrofoam really that much cheaper and lighter? It certainly does not bio-degrade and the trash dozers on the beach only act to shred and smash it into harder to pick up pieces, a calling card we will leave for our great grandchildren.
An exercise in futility perhaps? I have been told to change the things I have control over, to accept the things I cannot change, and to have the wisdom to know the difference. Perhaps wisdom is not a trait I have matured into at this age, for I cannot see, for the life of me, why certain things like this are tolerated. That and water wasting (look for a future post along with video. Yay!)
So back to the sandpit... the really dirty, festy, render-me-an-ear-infection one. It's no wonder property prices on this beach are lower than anywhere else in the state that has a direct water frontage. It's no wonder no one swims. Except all those kids in shirts and jeans..... (now, now)
So what is the solution in my opinion?
Eliminate the Breakwater, at least in part, and institute an environmental awareness campaign that actually ENFORCES (a strange word around these parts) the legislature. The rest will sort itself out naturally.
Until then, I will run and cough and splutter and be generally pained by the level of apathy.
I will enroll in a yoga class (ironically, I just typed yoda class), to deal with my inner demons.
I will continue to sporadically volunteer for the CLEAN ALAMITOS BEACH, 2nd Saturday of every month pelican-walk (or was it flamingo? Or pigeon?) Regardless, I will trudge the sand for about an hour whilst passers-by mutter 'I wonder what he did?' I figure cleaning this place up seems so banal to most that the only way I would do it would be through mandatory community service.
I will continue to stoop and pick up someone else's COLT 45 can, another's lip gloss and a over populated families $2.49 chicken and soda family value special.
I will cringe silently when I flick into the trash bag last night's euphoric, random, tight and dark encounter; yet thankfully safe, savored in a micro-thin, pink flavoured and studded prophylactic souvenir case and I will continue to fill more bags like this one (pictured).
Anyone know the sorority girl that may have lost this badge? I want to return her genetic souvenir too.... never know when that might come in handy. Woopty Woop Mutha Wooooot!
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