It’s snowing outside. Finally winter is here. It used to be that the cold started in November around Thanksgiving and lasted until March. That’s no longer the case; I have visions of rainfall in the Arctic Circle and polar bears set adrift on detached sheets of ice.
We’ve been playing shows and gearing up for the short tour with Dysrhythmia starting in a few weeks. We’ll be on the road with Defeatist for a few days prior to the formal start of the tour. I’m looking forward to it. The tour is only a little more than a week long, but I’ll take it. Long tour, short tour, it makes no difference to me: I’m just looking forward to getting out of the blank soulless wasteland of Brooklyn and NYC in general.
Lately, it’s seemed more soul-crushing than usual. Across the street from where I live, a huge condominium complex is in the final stages of construction. I’ve observed the slow, arduous task of it’s construction for almost two years. It was the case of a project getting funded when money flowed and the future looked bright for the cannibals that run the real estate hustles in this city. Times are different now and I can’t help but think that the guy at the top is sweating it out and questioning his grand scheme for making a quick buck in Greenpoint.
It’s almost over. At least most of the work is taking place inside: finish carpentry, plumbing, electrical and architectural work. I remember crews of non-union laborers yelling all day and my street being shut down without the proper permitting. I wonder how many units are pre-sold and how many will remain vacant.
It’s someone’s dying dream; some greedy cunt’s scheme that blew up in his face. Maybe it’ll go Section 8 Housing.
I’m ready to get away from this place for a while and see something different. I’m ready to see something that doesn’t make me want to light fires and shoot guns.
The guy and girl upstairs are still making noise. One night I had a talk with him about his girlfriend’s habit of cranking the Beatles and singing along at 0100. The Beatles of all things to listen to. I imagined her sipping some red wine and spinning Revolver or some equally weak bullshit record. She really feels it. She feels it so much that she had to scream the lyrics so loud it woke me up out of a sound sleep.
Yeah, I’m ready to get out of here for a while.