Amanda Blackman’s Dark Place
An open letter to my neighbor
Dear resident of unit 402,
You don’t know me, but I feel like I certainly gotten to know you while we’ve all been spending more time at home. Maybe not directly, but I do know what I can hear through the walls, doors, windows, and the entire building. I know that you love metal music, especially songs with rattling electric guitar riffs. I know that you stay up late watching something, and also wake up early to keep watching. Or maybe you stay up all night watching while I sleep.
Nope, that came out wrong.
You stay up watching your show at full volume in the room that shares a wall with my bedroom.
I know that you are also sport an impressive vocabulary, but your favorites are the profane words. My favorite memory of you demonstrating this was the one day my in-laws came over for dinner. You stood in the hall, right in front of my front door, and boy, did you let it fly. Best part: every sound goes through the door, so it felt like you were standing in my living room, swearing at my husband’s parents.
But don’t worry, it isn’t just through the door and the walls that I’ve gotten to know you. I know that you play the electric guitar. Well, that may be taking it too far. I know that you know how to play only one riff on the electric guitar. And you sure want the entire building to know it. I also know that your favorite movie is probably This is Spinal Tap, because oh man do you crank it up to 11. The floors and walls shake, and I can even hear it with noise cancelling headphones. So consider your goal achieved. I know it. This guitar riff will be in my dreams before too long.
I love that you’re using your quarantine time to be productive and really nail that riff. Some of us started making sourdough, some are sewing, but you’re sure playing. It’s cool, sure, but I’m going to be honest, I wish you’d pick up at least one new quiet hobby.
A neighbor who values quiet above all else.