Maybe I should rename this blog "The rants of an annoying Neighbour's blog".
It's 2:42 am on a Thursday night... And guess who's so graciously granting me the fine favour of lusciously adorning my, up until now, peaceful night with heavy base beats, some crappy wannabe gangster singing (well more like talking with some quite unnatural wailing in between) about the same old same old... Fast money, sexy booties and shiny cars, all slapped together to the same old beat one's heard in more songs than I care to remember if I'm to retain my sanity. Seems like the lyricists are making good money with their copying machines these days.
It's always nice to know they're not breaking their backs trying to come up with innovative and original lyrics for the volley of artists with more money and good PR people than talent or originality waiting for their mass produced chain-mails. And my my, what a delightful surprise to see that my neighbour's taste in music is consistent bordering on manic. As long as he and the likes of him are around those artists won't have to worry about people with actual quality demands on the music industry threatening to throw them out of their humble XXX room houses. And most likely they won't have to worry about their over-pimped cars being reclaimed and pitifully sold off to people with more money than taste.
It's always good to know the world stays the same if I may say so, sarcastic and caustic as I may feel at this certain point in time. Quantity wins over quality and there are always inconsiderate idiots without a sliver of regard or thought for the people who might not share their taste in certain areas of life.
And I've long ago reached a point where I honestly can't find the energy, nor respect, to actually go over and ask my neighbour to shut the hell up. I've done that enough times already, tearing my hair and having to hear that little twerp mouth back at me when I reminded him that some people actually like a bit of quiet in the wee hours of weekday nights.
I've long since given up on fretting over the fact that he just cranks up the volume at weekends. That's the fine part of living in a student-infested area. Weekends are parties all over, although most of them actually have the good sense and inventiveness to relocate to more suitable locations before the clock strikes midnight. I wonder if a casual mention of the clubs around town would bring about an at least moderately favourable response. I doubt it though but, even as sanity and good nature flees more for each night I hear that shit, one cannot help but hold a slight sliver of hope for mankind. Even in the face of the chilling realisation that mankind has been going to hell in a hand basket for years.
And now I shall cease my depressing rant. I sound like a 90 y/o hag in her rocking chair scowling at the youth of today.