Isolation is Good

Living in a tower-block sucks. If you think otherwise, you’re probably one of those people who enjoy riding the bus because of all the “interesting” people you meet.

I have no idea how many apartments there are in the building I live in but what I do know is that I don’t want any of them to be occupied but mine.

I wish I could afford to move.

The neighbors all get on my nerves. Everyone expects to be greeted every single time you pass them by. And that happens a lot considering they’re mostly over 70 years old and aren’t exactly fast. In fact, if they were any slower they’d walk backwards. Sometimes when I come back from grocery-shopping I have to greet the same people I’ve just met when I left the house because they’re seemingly still trying to figure out how to get into the elevator without moving.

All that wouldn’t be too bad if all the grannies would at least be nice then. No, you just get a blank stare instead of a response. But don’t dare to not say something or it’s “What is wrong with the young people nowadays, can’t you even say hello???”. If I didn’t think throwing a fit would only make things worse I would have told everyone to shut the fuck up long ago.

Keyword ‘elevator’. Is it really necessary to set off the annoying elevator alarm several times everyday? I mean, shouldn’t you know that maybe you shouldn’t use that fucking thing because it has power failures all the time after living here for 150 years or however old you are? I think I figured that out after half an hour.

And if you’re too old to use the stairs, too stupid to realize that piece of shit elevator won’t bring you anywhere and too much of an asshole to have a family taking care of you, your sorry ass you belong in a fucking nursing home.

The only people here that seem nice are a black couple with two kids. Maybe it’s just because they can relate since they get the same stupid looks from the other people here as I do. At least in my case it’s just because I’m flashily dressed. I’m used to it and if it really bothered me I’d just cut my hair and get a suit while they must feel pretty shitty realizing there are still leftovers from the Germany from 60 years ago in some older people’s brains.

Sunday mornings are always a blast. After coming home at about 5AM drunk off my ass and collapsing on the bed (hopefully) or the floor (not unlikely) I’m lucky to get two hours of sleep before Neighbor #1 starts blasting the shittiest chart-topper Euro-dance techno “music” known to mankind. Yes, on Sunday mornings when everybody should have a giant hangover or better yet, still be asleep, that jackass feels the need to crank that shit. Unfortunately, I have no idea who that is or I’d tell him to turn that shit off and threaten to crack those records over his empty techno-loving head.

But that’s not enough. Every weekend, Neighbor #2 who’s divorced or something has his kids over for visit. Those fucking brats wake up at seven, if not earlier, and start terrorizing the house. Sounds like normal kids playing… normal to someone who thinks normal kids knock over furniture and hack each other up for barbecue.

Okay, I know kids are like that and don’t understand that some people are going insane over that but their dim-witted father is even worse. He yells at them like I wouldn’t even yell at someone who punched me in the face. I can totally understand why he’s mad at them but he should realize that he’s the one to blame for that. Why can’t that dickhead let the kids watch TV until 2AM like all good parents would? Or even better, think before breeding next time.

I hate people who yell at their kids for no reason. If you can’t take the stress don’t have kids. He’s the typical suit and tie guy who’s always polite and smiling on the outside but secretly hates his life and lets it all out on the wife and kids when he’s at home. It doesn’t surprise me she dumped him.

Should he ever yell at me like that I’ll whack him over the head for every Sunday I couldn’t sleep.

Anyway, when I finally manage to get used to the noise inferno, Neighbor #3 is ready. This is an unemployed Russian guy who works on his crappy car 24/7. And loudly so... I’m not even sure he’s really working on it since I never saw it move, maybe he’s just fondling it. I believe people who love cars are kinky like that. What’s wrong with your life if your idea of an ideal Sunday morning is to get out in the freezing cold and screw around with your car??

There’s one cool other Russian guy here as well. He’s about 50 years old and barely speaks German. What I like about him is that he’s drunk all the time. I always see him riding his bike very slowly with a red face. When he sees me he starts smiling and waves and almost crashes because he obviously can’t concentrate on the street while being happy to see me at the same time. The only time I really talked to him was when he was waiting for the shitty elevator and I came in with a fresh bottle of Scotch in my hand. He said hello and asked me what I was drinking in his heavy Russian accent. I showed him the bottle and he got all excited and told me that I should definitely switch to vodka because Scotch and everything else was poison. He proceeded to tell me if I didn’t have vodka there would still be no need to buy the poisonous whiskey, because back when he was in Russia he learned how to make vodka himself.

That got me interested and I asked him from what he makes it, and he told me “from methanol”. That’s all I really need to know about him. Drinking methanol and calling whiskey poison. I’m amazed he’s not blind by now.

I could go on and on about the rest of the stupid morons who live here, like the mullet-wearing, bulldog-owning biker idiot always picking fights with some shady Russian guys who often sneak around the house. But I’m sick of these fucks and don’t want to know any of them.

I don’t believe the incident where a guy fell out of a seven-story window here was an accident for a second. He probably just couldn’t take to see those faces on the stairway anymore and decided to take another way out.

I’m tempted to do the same, but unfortunately I live on the first floor. There’s just no escape.


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