June 13, 2007
My neighbours are demonstrative
My upstairs neighbours are german (it seems). They are quiet enough, although they smoke on the balcony and drop ash on my balcony, which is not a huge problem.
Apparently they like sex. Loud, demonstrative, noisy, brash, sex.
The girl is a screamer.
I thought I was the only one who noticed it, but, the other day, during a particularly enthusiastic performance, I hurried - all a tremble - to the window to locate the source of the familiar, throaty groans that I had heard them on more than one occasion over the last few weeks.
At 11 am, I was standing rapt on my balcony, head tilted (รก la - his masters voice - how apt) realising that the midnight chorus that had lulled me to troubled sleep on so many previous occasions was coming from directly upstairs.
The fact that it was early in the day - a very hot day (hot under my collar anyway) - and as such the curtains were open, it should have come as no surprise that the english stag party passing through Smithfield Market were staring in shock, surprise and amusement at the guttural, Teutonic yelps that issued from just above my head.
I felt, for a dizzy moment, that I was part of something bigger than myself, that somehow the almost animal grunts and groans had simultaneously eradicated the complexities of my humanity while transporting me above and beyond the normal hum-drum existence that I claimed as my own, shattering expectations and tossing me (as such) into a landscape unknown.
I stood outside my life for a brief, shivering moment before I realised that standing on my balcony, listening to someone get it on, partly tumescent (it has to be admitted), being the only visible component in a very public display was somehow, demeaning.
Still.
A screamer.
Fantastic.
Posted by dottie at 1:50 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack