I appreciate that you love the Goth thing. I admire the Goth thing myself, having experienced its resurgence several times in the past, including at my own high school, many years ago, when the Earth's crusts were cooling.
However, it would be super nice if you weren't keeping my child and me up until the wee hours with the amazingly loud music. You have terrific surround sound and a great set of woofers. This is not a euphemism. I wish it were. Because the kitchen, the bathroom, and my child's room are actually shaking.
I await, rather eagerly, the mirror falling off the wall. It's tilted several times tonight, but it hangs onto the nail, the trooper that it is. It's probably because it's Swedish, and they are a hardy people. They've made a hardy mirror. Also, it's clear the nail is really doing its job.
Despite this, the reflection of my angry, rather incredulous face blurs and shakes wildly every time Skinny Puppy (yes, I know who they are) hits a bass note. Which ... it's Skinny Puppy. They hit a lot of bass notes. I'm actually a bit confused by Skinny Puppy as a choice. Maybe it's because you were playing Megadeath yesterday. Yes. I know who Megadeath are.
I know you've been behaving as of late, and I'm not surprised you've decided to have this little moment while the managers are out of town. I mean, it's not a shock, really. I get it. The people who work daylight hours, when you and Lucrezia sleep, are old, annoying people with kids. I admit that those months my child had night terrors couldn't have been fun for you either.
And I have listened to some of this music in the past, I admit, although I must say I'm a bit disappointed that you haven't discovered Rockabilly Thrash yet. I'm sure it's only a matter of time.
I've called out several times in the musical breaks, the ... caesuras .... and several times knocked on your door. No one has answered, but I am not fooled because invisible hands did not turn up the music to drown out the knocks.
So, what I want to say, and I mean this in the best way possible, is it's after midnight, and so, it is time to TURN YOUR FUCKING MUSIC DOWN before I pull out Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass or god forbid John Denver, and blast it into your door tomorrow afternoon while you are sleeping the sleep of the living dead.
Thank you so much,
Your Neighbor Who Is Losing Patience
PS. I would put out the spliffs as I'm considering calling the police in just a wee bit. Kisses!