It’s a beautiful life

Currently at odds with a roommate over an alarm clock. This is life in homo hub, DC. He tried to chide me for banging on his door to wake him up when his alarm has been ringing for ten to fifteen solid minutes. At 6 in the morning.

Every morning this degenerate, inconsiderate creep sleeps through his alarm. An alarm which he sets hours in advance of when he needs to wake up. But I don’t sleep through it. I get home from work around 1 in the morning. Strangely enough, after hours of working in an ultra contrived high pressure environment, I’m unable to fall immediately into the arms of sweet slumber. So I don’t get to bed until around 2 or later.

Then, 4 hour hours later, his alarm rings. And it doesn’t stop until I do something about it, which makes me an unbearable asshole. I understand that we all have to wake up at different hours of the day. Division of labor and complexity entail a fragmented social body made up of increasingly incompatible and begrudging people. But the purpose of an alarm is to wake up the person who needs to wake up at that time. Not torment someone else trying to enjoy the profound joy of deep, dark sleep.

It would be one thing if I were momentarily disturbed and could then get back to sleep. It would be far from ideal but also far from enraging. But this is impossible because the alarm just rings and rings. Occasionally he hits the snooze and then five minutes later it’s ringing again. But I’m the piece of shit for knocking on his door to make it stop.

I should be more polite. I should send a delicately worded text message diffidently suggesting a possible change in early morning alarm clock policy. Let me begin by offering my sincerest, sloppiest ass sucking apology. You have every right to feel offended and inconvenienced. But would it be possible to not be a piece of human wreckage, if only for a few hours in the morning when a quiet home is critical?

I know that as a gay man you face many challenges. Living with the underlying awareness that you’re a genetic dead end is surely stressful. It’s probably why you’re atomically self absorbed and compulsively engage in high risk, hedonic behavior. I know that you can’t do most things like normal people with healthy, functioning procreative instincts, but would it be possible to at least sleep and wake up like an adjusted adult?

It’s surely too much to ask. So I’m looking for a way out. Sub leasing is an option but who wants to live here? It’s going to be a hard sell. Then again, DC is full of striving queers who’d feel right at home among other gays, trannies, and poor blacks. Sleeping fitfully through ringing alarms and piss poor piano playing would be a small price to pay for a chance to live cheaply in our collapsing nation’s capital.

In a different time I would have met a grisly but heroic end. Gutted by the scimitar of a mussulman defending the kingdom of Christendom. Now I’m going to slowly rot until my heart finally gives out after years of low level stressors and simmering resentments. Worn down by pseudo comfortable years of being constantly accused of having power I’d be pilloried for ever using. I won’t be fighting for these freaks when the barbarians come.

Author: The Empty Subject

Born curmudgeon

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