Week 7 on Corona time

My neighbor, being a neighborly sort of fellow, decided to DJ this afternoon (a Saturday), not just for his daughter’s 11th birthday, but really for the delectation of the entire neighborhood. He held a dance party. His daughter’s cousins won.

I went over to thank him for his neighborliness. It striking me that (a) hosting a dance party in the middle of a pandemic is a good goddamn public service and ought to be appropriately compensated, and (b) sadly I live in Midtown, where some NextDoor motherfuckers are surely going to (and sadly, did) complain about the Tall Negro playing Urban Music at a volume Too Loud for a Respectable Neighborhood.

Yeah, fuk dat noiz. The music was good. It’s a Saturday afternoon. Mr. Tall Negro can play his music at whatever volume he wants and fuck all yall.

I had something else to say in this post. I forget precisely what. Ah well.

Published by A garrett renter on Welbeck St.

An online diarist, because writing longhand just seems so tiring.

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