To the Owner of the Extremely Loud Bass, I have to get up at 7:30 tomorrow and your music is driving me out of my mind. I felt compelled to write to you and try to discuss my feelings on this issue, having exhausted every other reasonable alternative; I've tried kicking on both the ceiling and the walls, while moaning loudly, but the responses in each circumstance gave me to understand that my neighbors are not the producers of this horrible, horrible noise. I don't know what to do anymore. I feel used, I feel vulnerable, I feel more than a little psychotic. . . Please turn down your music. Even better, just turn it off. I realize this request may seem offensive considering that we're not personally acquainted -yet- but on many levels I feel as if I already know you, because I've been lying in bed envisioning various ways of maiming you for about an hour now. It's unlikely that I would be able to carry any of them out because most of the weapons I was thinking of using would be difficult to construct, also you're probably stronger than me, but I urge you not to think about that, and still be moved to some degree of respectable fright when I conclude that: You don't know me. You don't want to know me. Just turn it off. Jessi

source: Sent to the Mirilees dorm email list late one night tags: Patience, Anger, Sleep