Sushi Panic
123 Eat More Sushi Lane
Somewhere, FL 12345

September 29, 2003

Evil Bastards
666 Cross Street
Somewhere, FL 12345


Dear Evil Bastards:


You may be surprised to know that my home is where I stay to get away from you.

It is where I come to get away from the loud radios at the clubs and the beaches. It is where I usually sleep after working from eleven in the evening ‘till noon the next day. It is where I like to stay when I’m horribly ill and trying to recover. It is where I meditate. Because I now have a piano, it is where I like to practice. And it is also where I like to listen to classical “not-supposed-to-have-a-driving bass-line” music.

You may be surprised to know that some people even stay home to die. Several years ago, the husband of your immediate next-door neighbor did just that. Did you know? And I’m reasonably sure he didn’t enjoy Passing to the beat of “Hot 80’s Dance Hits.” I actually do know this, because she told me. But their neighbors at the time were every bit as inconsiderate as you, and so that is exactly how it happened.

Did you know that I recently broke up with my girl friend? I thought that violin music might have made a better soundtrack. But you chose… more dance music. It’s lucky for me that you are such an insightful psychologist. You knew that by dancing, instead of wallowing, I would recovery more quickly. The trouble is, I can’t actually hear your music. I can only feel it -- in some back recess of my skull -- thump, thump, thumping. And so it was that I danced to the beat, without any music. Though, I have to admit, it felt more crazy than therapeutic.

But that’s to be expected isn’t it? When people are subjected to Chinese Water Torture, they eventually go crazy. And that is what might finally happen to me. I might go completely insane. And if that happens, well, I won’t care what the consequences are, will I? Not that I would beat you or anything like that. I think I would only tie you up and let a little drop of water fall on your head: plop, plop, plop -- until it became a thump, thump, THUMP, and you were the one driven insane instead of me.

That would be a just world. I’d settle for a sane world.

Everybody wants to have a party once in a while. Go for it! But try a sprinkle of common sense on your ice cream: let your neighbors know ahead of time. Ask them if that is going to be an inconvenient night. Let them have a chance to make plans. Give them the consideration of communication and chances are almost 100% that they won’t mind. Or at least, they won’t call the police.

But don’t do it all the time. If you want to party every weekend, you may be surprised to know that there are places especially for you! They have alcohol and music and sticky floors and everything! They’ll even clean up for you in the morning. So go there and leave me alone.

At home, I need my space. I need my peace and quiet. I need to be able to listen to just one radio at a time. (That would be mine, specifically.) At home, basically, I need my own choices and my own sanctuary. If you continue to take away my choices and sanctuary, I will continue to call the police every single time I hear your lousy excuse for music.

And if I go insane before you see the light of day, maybe someone will play the bass track to “Vogue” at both our funerals.


Best,
Sushi Panic