rude awakening

it's just after nine and my eyes are burning from having been open too long. would put myself to bed now but know that at about three this morning i'd be wide awake. considering that the sassy red rims that adorned my peepers all day were inspired by just such an occurrence last night, i think i'll try to soldier on through the rest of garden state (great flick, great soundtrack) instead.

now last night's wake up call was not a pee break or a symptom of too much on the brain. no, these would be welcome messengers of morning compared to the insanity that rang my proverbial bell...

picture a row of quaint walk ups on a tree lined street. manicured lawns leading up to rich, wide wooden doors. on the street, a procession of BMW's, SUV's, Lexxi (?) hum happily by.

last night, as the inhabitants of the art deco styled sanctuaries slept, a sudden crash echoed in the space between two of the buildings.

"just shut the fuck up! shut up or i'm gonna come over there. yeah, do it again and i'll call the cops."

i sat bolt upright in bed.

it was 2:43

my heart was instantly racing, my ears attuned to the voice, almost theatrical in tone that broke the deathly still quiet of the night. i was instantly taken back to childhood where you caught strains of an argument between your parents who thought you were asleep. you clung to every word, holding your breath.

another crash and the voice, from my building, rang out toward the other.

"i'm calling now (yells out the address and the apartment number), better shut the fuck up cause they're on the way. calling them now. yeah, big guy"

not at home anymore, i'm in an episode of cops, peeking through my blinds as the wife beater parade swaggers onto the lawn, beer bellied bravado and smudged mascara on the leads.

can hear a woman's voice muffled in the background. have heard it before, from behind a door. guess my neighbour below gets the version with better reception.

am glued to this conversation, hanging on every word. feel less and less like a visitor here, it's close.

"get out and come and meet me outside. just get up and meet me outside. oh what, what now you're gonna put a gun to my head is that it, just meet me outside, that's it, they're comin"

wait, what the fuck? gun? this shit just shifted gears. i hope i have misheard as i can literally feel my brows furrow with worry. i don't live there. i don't live in that place where the guns are. who are these people and how did they get here. aesthetically i should have been protected from this. i have felt protected by my polished wood and birdsong in the morning.

still no sirens. but it's three oclock. maybe they don't use sirens then. it's quiet. no slamming, muttering or bellowing from below.

my mind is filling in the blanks, the silence with scenarios. i don't know who to fear more, the crazed woman who i've heard wailing randomly for a few months now and her bare chested boyfriend who lingers in her hall or the guy below who's clearly lost it.

still quiet. am torn. am washed with rush of urge to call cops myself and get this woman and her freaky ass alcoholic sidekick evicted and then the tide turns and wonder what happens to people who live in this raw nerve like state of being for any length of time. i'm nauseous after a moment's exposure. what does a lifetime do? how do people raise children when surrounded by belly busting blasts of abuse.

so easy to criticize the self centred blue blooded cry "not in my backyard." but here it is. in my backyard, outside my window, at three in the morning; too scared to sympathize.