(no subject)
who would have thought an essay on MP3 could be so boring? wait. did i just say that?
so, i have to write this one down before my temporary mind-files get corrupted, or i forget the juice.
4am. two nights back. and so the children slept. (what the hell is this, A Christmas Carol?) .......... BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!!
Call it a fault, but I'm not the most friendly when woken. Who the goddamn FUCK is at my door!?? four am??
It has to be my flatmate. His girlfriend must have kicked him out and he's got no key. This town isn't like the city, it's dead at 1am, bar the delivery place. So, i drag my carcass out of my pit and hop down the stairs to let him in as a good flatmate would.
"Who is it?"
"Ollie."
Thinking he said "Elliott" I open the latch and this weird looking guy with a record bag is staring at me.
"What do you want?" I murmur, half debating whether I was about to get murdered or told something really horrible.
"Can you sort me out with a ninebar?"
"What!??" This guy comes to my house at four am and he wants me to sell him weed. Fantastic.
"A Ninebar, or just something man. Can you help me out? I have money."
"Uh, no. Look, I don't sell weed, sorry man."
"Oh right. Uh, could you give this to Jamie? " (name changed, not to protect anyone, just because I can't remember it and it's hardly relevant.) he tries to hand me a record bag.
"no."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know who he is, my friend."
"Oh, yeah dude. He lives in the blue room at the back." For the record, no room in our house is blue.
"No, I think you have the wrong house."
"No, this is 101 where Jamie lives. I'll leave them in the porch. Actually can I leave them in the shed? The one at the bottom of the garden?"
"What?"
"The one where the weed is. Go on find him and see if he can sort me out."
"Look man you have the wrong house. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"No, man, I don't..."
"OK maybe you have the wrong year." I had by this point realised that I was talking to someone a bit chicken-oriental. Even crackheads make more sense than this.
"Oh... ok man. Can you do me a favour?"
"Sure."
"Can I come in for a drink?"
"OK. Look. Im half asleep. It's four AM. You have the wrong house and year. Bye."
I close the door and watch him wander off into the street through my bedroom window. Ten minutes later..... BOOM BOOM BOOM. He's back. I'm actually wide awake and he's continually banging on the door, but gets bored and stops. A few minutes later my flatmate who lives downstairs comes up and explains that he's actually walking around outside her window and ducking down every so often for no apparent reason. However he seemed to have gone away so we left it at that and caught a bus to slumberland once more.
5.30 AM. BOOM BOOM BOOM!!! ....................................................
My patience is slowly wearing very thin. Of course, his call went ignored again.
10 AM - helen opens the door to pick up the mail and notices the record bag still on the floor in the porch. Rather than think about it she just closes the door.
10.15 AM - BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!! Helen answers the door, as you do when it's busy, daytime and all the stuff you associate with normal behaviour is actually happening. And he's back, again.
"Hi. The landlord has given me a tenancy for the attic." He proceeds to push his way into the front door, as Helen stands mortified. Suddenly she snaps to reality and closes the door on his face and calls the cops. We haven't seen him since.
Later : after calling old tenants, we know the guys name is actually Mark and he used to live here, years ago... and in the last few years has either taken too many narcotics and lost the plot or he's actually just completely nuts. Either way, paul slept through the action and didn't get to meet him, and he's well pissed off.
Shit, it's 4am. Better put the kettle on.
so, i have to write this one down before my temporary mind-files get corrupted, or i forget the juice.
4am. two nights back. and so the children slept. (what the hell is this, A Christmas Carol?) .......... BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!!
Call it a fault, but I'm not the most friendly when woken. Who the goddamn FUCK is at my door!?? four am??
It has to be my flatmate. His girlfriend must have kicked him out and he's got no key. This town isn't like the city, it's dead at 1am, bar the delivery place. So, i drag my carcass out of my pit and hop down the stairs to let him in as a good flatmate would.
"Who is it?"
"Ollie."
Thinking he said "Elliott" I open the latch and this weird looking guy with a record bag is staring at me.
"What do you want?" I murmur, half debating whether I was about to get murdered or told something really horrible.
"Can you sort me out with a ninebar?"
"What!??" This guy comes to my house at four am and he wants me to sell him weed. Fantastic.
"A Ninebar, or just something man. Can you help me out? I have money."
"Uh, no. Look, I don't sell weed, sorry man."
"Oh right. Uh, could you give this to Jamie? " (name changed, not to protect anyone, just because I can't remember it and it's hardly relevant.) he tries to hand me a record bag.
"no."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know who he is, my friend."
"Oh, yeah dude. He lives in the blue room at the back." For the record, no room in our house is blue.
"No, I think you have the wrong house."
"No, this is 101 where Jamie lives. I'll leave them in the porch. Actually can I leave them in the shed? The one at the bottom of the garden?"
"What?"
"The one where the weed is. Go on find him and see if he can sort me out."
"Look man you have the wrong house. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"No, man, I don't..."
"OK maybe you have the wrong year." I had by this point realised that I was talking to someone a bit chicken-oriental. Even crackheads make more sense than this.
"Oh... ok man. Can you do me a favour?"
"Sure."
"Can I come in for a drink?"
"OK. Look. Im half asleep. It's four AM. You have the wrong house and year. Bye."
I close the door and watch him wander off into the street through my bedroom window. Ten minutes later..... BOOM BOOM BOOM. He's back. I'm actually wide awake and he's continually banging on the door, but gets bored and stops. A few minutes later my flatmate who lives downstairs comes up and explains that he's actually walking around outside her window and ducking down every so often for no apparent reason. However he seemed to have gone away so we left it at that and caught a bus to slumberland once more.
5.30 AM. BOOM BOOM BOOM!!! ....................................................
My patience is slowly wearing very thin. Of course, his call went ignored again.
10 AM - helen opens the door to pick up the mail and notices the record bag still on the floor in the porch. Rather than think about it she just closes the door.
10.15 AM - BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!! Helen answers the door, as you do when it's busy, daytime and all the stuff you associate with normal behaviour is actually happening. And he's back, again.
"Hi. The landlord has given me a tenancy for the attic." He proceeds to push his way into the front door, as Helen stands mortified. Suddenly she snaps to reality and closes the door on his face and calls the cops. We haven't seen him since.
Later : after calling old tenants, we know the guys name is actually Mark and he used to live here, years ago... and in the last few years has either taken too many narcotics and lost the plot or he's actually just completely nuts. Either way, paul slept through the action and didn't get to meet him, and he's well pissed off.
Shit, it's 4am. Better put the kettle on.