There is a school outside my bedroom window that hosts salsa parties on the weekends. You know, drumming that sounds like Fericito and people standing around outside smoking and drinking under the "We're proud of our safe and drug-free school" banner. So last night the music is raging and echoing in that school auditorium way and I call the police around 1:30am to make a noise complaint. "We'll get someone over there as soon as we can" said the nice man dispatcher. I was surprised when 15 minutes later the party wound down. Whether or not this had to do with my phone call, who knows. I just can't believe I've ended up in a place where the noise problem is almost worse than my last place, where I was being driven to psychosis by the sound of a child constantly running in the apartment upstairs. Don't they ever take that kid outside? And, this past week I've been woken up three times at 3am by a garbage truck emptying the dumpster at the school, a loud, crashing, metal-grinding, glass-breaking engine-roaring ruckus that lasts nearly 10 minutes. So that's my next complaint project.

My favorite thing about living here so far is the Light Rail, which is like riding a monorail that is on the ground and that, uh, has more than one rail. Not having to go underground to get to work is going to be fantastic. I love the subway, but it will be nice to have some sunshine on the way to work for a change. I don't know why I'm thinking of this now, but I remember in the days immediately following 9/11, whenever the train would stop between stations, which is quite common, the color would drain from people's faces. No one stayed engrossed in their magazine or book. I know that I myself was thinking: "This is it...." I guess that feeling still lingers with me a bit, so yeah, it will be nice to be above ground for a while.

Finally saw 24-Hour Party People. Overall I thought it was pretty silly. I really would have rather watched a real documentary on the whole thing. I was really hoping for some real Joy Division footage. Although it did bring back memories of seeing the Happy Mondays in high school and having no idea anyone was on drugs, even though Bez's eyes were popping out of his head and he didn't stop dancing for an hour straight. And, of course, of me and my friend Eric's pilgrimage to The Hacienda when were what, 17? I really do remember it looking exactly as depicted in the movie. We were there at the tail end of it's life, but no matter. It was awesome. The word "Shine" was spelled out in giant silver letters and people were dancing on top of them. When we were initially trying to find it we thought we were lost. We were at the right address, but where was it? There was no sign. It was just a giant brick building. Then, we noticed a small tile embedded into a brick wall: Hacienda. It was so tiny. That was the only sign. And we also timed our trip right to attend a memorial festival for Martin Hannett called Cities in the Park.

Today I'm meeting some folks at a Mexican place in the city for my "birthday bash." Well, I don't know how much of a bash it will be since I have no idea who will actually show up or not, so it may just be me bashing my head against the sidewalk after 6 margaritas in the hot sun....