Monday, January 17, 2005

on my end, i'll keep it down on the bellydance music

The kids in Unit One are apparently the sort that kiss and make up, and then some, after they fight. I was hoping they were the go-to-bed-mad kind who could be counted on to stew silently all night, but I guess they got all their processing done over the three hours they were fighting (with, of course, the television on). The moaning started just as I was going to bed, where I'd had big plans to comfort myself in the age-old fashion, and lasted for about twenty minutes. So I laid there with my hands chastely behind my head and just cried myself to sleep instead. I haven't cried in a few days, and it felt strange, although that might have been the sensation of the tears pooling around my (useless) orange foam ear plugs.

And I had to wake up early, to go model for this kind of strange but nice enough man with a big old warehouse studio space South of Market. When I'm up on the stand--in this case, an ancient kitchen table--I can see into the cars driving up the ramp that leads to the Bay Bridge. I try not to think about the corollary; I'm sure if there had been any accidents from drivers realizing they were seeing nekkid women, somebody would have said something to this guy. He's doing a whole series of me, trying to capture different emotional states: joy, paranoia. Today was sorrow, which I managed to fake for him somehow. Buried my head in the sleeping bag and cushion softening the box I was leaning against and went pretty much straight to sleep.

Here's an excerpt from the note I wrote when I got home. I'd gone up and knocked, hoping to talk to them in person, but I guess either they couldn't hear me over the television, or they just weren't feeling sociable.
...I have a problem I hope you can help me with. When they built this place, they obviously didn't think about sound. I can hear everything that happens up here. Everything. And while certain things, like fighting and fucking, obviously need to happen at their appropriate volumes, I wonder if I can ask you to keep it down on the other stuff? Loud television, walking around heavily late at night, the may be young and energetic, but I am old and tired, and need to get some sleep.
I could have been less snarky, I could have brought them some cookies or something and tried to make nice-nice, but I'm simply too tired. And I've been up there before, they know there's a problem.