Quietude

New York, NY - Peter - Monday, January 20th, 2003 : goo

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My city is quiet tonight. I'm downstairs in the basement with my girlfriend; she's reading a magazine and I'm considering what shades to paint the walls down here. And the ceiling- the ceiling is odd because its vaulted like an old wine cellar. We call the place the bunker or the bomb shelter due to its all-cement construction and soundproofness. Its odd, yet another fucking Manhattan apartment.

My housemate is upstairs. Having washed the dishes, he's now scrubbing the floor. Seems like we let the dishes pile up this weekend, and he's anal enough to take it onto himself to clean up everyone's shit; which is good, as I've done the same for him on several occasions.

Its 21 degrees outside, so no one is out, it seems. That makes the sidewalks silent; even the cars seem to slother by slower and much quieter.

Every now and then my budgies chirp, or my girlfriend sneezes.

A quiet night.

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