looking down on everyone they glow from floating lights strung in trees. they're all so similar. my memory burns. their silly hats and drunken slurs. with every sip who we are gets much worse. lawn chairs and firestarters, strangers holding hands in a cement courtyard that has no past. we're doing the same sidestepping stumbling dance through plumes of smoke. exhaling the refuse into the creeping cold night. up the creaking steps, cluttered and cramped. half eaten deserts and birthday trays are crumpled alongside empty bottles and plastic cups. we walk home alone narrated by the clatter of leather shoes and spray of hydraulic bursts. we're all doing the same dance to a different beat.
“WEDNESDAY, JULY 18 - My name is Nick. Someday, if I grow up to become a gangster, perhaps I will be known as Nick the Prick. This may cause some embarrassment for my family, but when your don gives you your mafia sobriquet you don’t ask questions.”—Youth in Revolt.
i hear a lot of really loud vibrating and stuff moving around.
INSANE masturbation? vacuuming? what are you doing up there?
vacuum sex with a little masturbation on the side? it’s probably just jazzercising.
maybe sex on top of the vacuum which would explain all the thumping and the sound moving around different parts of my room. i would expect some moaning though, perhaps the vacuum covered up the sounds of distant pleasure. in all reality, i’m sure my apartment building is not that exciting or kinky :(
there’s no moaning because they are trying to improve their sex life, but it’s not working. and always assume your apartment building is kinky, makes for better stories, even if they aren’t true! hahaha