Das Bloggy-Wog Des Herr Doktor
Living on the streetWed, February 27, 2008 - 11:44 AM
As I write this, someone upstairs is using power tools to grind away at something or other. I don't know what's going on up there, but I assume it's another of the endless construction projects that are always in progress. It seems that each month, someone new moves into a space somewhere in the building, requiring walls to be knocked down and new ones built up.
There's also a growing metropolis of telecommunications equipment right outside my window. T-Mobile has built a mobile phone tower on the roof, and every couple of weeks a new crew of workmen camp outside my window to install more gear.
At least twice each day, I'm jolted out of sleep or relaxation by a horrifying noise that Shaz calls the "lion shredder." We don't know what it is, but we think it might be a rolling metal door or some kind of industrial bulkhead that gets opened and closed every day.
A kids' playground has moved into the space next door. Luckily I don't hear the kids shrieking that much, but I do hear the telephone in the office next door. It wakes me up every morning.
Every morning and every night I have to listen to one of my housemates slamming doors, yakking and cackling up a storm. It's making me go absolutely mental. Plus, every time I want to use the toilet, shower, or kitchen, I have to check in advance to see if there's someone already there. If I want to make sure I'm not late for work, I have to reserve the shower the night before by leaving a note on the door. I come from a small family and am not at all accustomed to queueing up in my own damn home.
As if that weren't enough, some of the aforementioned housemates are complete and utter slobs. You should see the interiors of their rooms; they look like those photos on the Internet that document obsessive hoarding behaviors. The common areas are a constant problem. Despite the fact that I've hired a cleaning service, Shaz and I still have to clean up after other people on a daily basis.
When I walk out my door, I'm confronted with 18-wheel semi trucks lined up down the street, all idling their engines and spewing out diesel exhaust. They're here to pick up shipments of beer from the brewery next door.
The neighborhood itself is just way, way too busy for me. There's a steady stream of traffic, both cars and trucks, all day. The infrastructure is under constant flux. The department of water has been jackhammering the street outside my window, as well.
A home is supposed to be a refuge from the insanity of the city, but this place is very far from a refuge. Really, over the past three years I feel like I've been living on the street. The hustle and bustle never stops, the noise and hassle goes on all day. I mean seriously, it starts at around 7:30 am and goes until about 11:30 pm, every day and every night. It's actually WORSE on weekends when every housemate (and their guests) is competing for the same limited domestic resources.
So, the bottom line is, I hate it here and am going to move. Shaz and I are looking for an apartment together. If you know anyone who has a two-bedroom apartment available in San Francisco's Mission, Noe Valley, or Bernal Heights, perhaps you could hook us up?
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I lived in a loft for three years. It was in the middle of downtown LA, one of the largest cities in the world, and yet at the the time, it felt like I was in the middle of nowhere.... no grocery stores or anything for miles. I had to get in the car and drive everywhere. We also had noise issues, neighbor problems and all that. It was a nice big space with lots of light and I did enjoy it while I was there, but the allure of loft living seriously wore off during those years.
I moved to a little art deco house in a quiet neighborhood with lots of shops, restaurants, and grocery stores -- all within walking distance. While it's not nearly as "cool" as a loft, it's a much nicer place to live, much quieter, and I don't use my car nearly as much.
Yeah that's the drawback of live/work. The plus side is you can make noise too and not feel bad about it.
Come to the dark side, come to Berkeley.
Can't move to the East Bay -- Shaz works in Menlo Park and I work in SF.
I don't make much noise, except for my constant bitching about how much I hate everything. It seems I suffer from all of the woes of communal living, but can't take advantage of what it has to offer.
i would never be able to deal with that. and i know you are kinda sensitive to noise anyway so i don't know how you haven't gone completely bonkers by now.
surely, the trade off of a commute would be better than your home life being so disruptive? hope you get some ideas soon.
I Scream We All ScreamMore Noise Please
by Steven Jesse Bernstein
I live on a street where there are many, many cars and trucks and factories that pump and bang and grind all night and day. It is a miracle that I can write poetry or sleep or talk on the telephone or that my lover will visit me here. There is so much noise. Every few minutes a jet in comes in low or a prop job swings down like a kamikaze. There is an airport at the end of my street. The New Age people say that you choose all these things, choose the cars and trucks and airplanes, me and all of my neighbors. Well, maybe this is true, maybe we can't live without all this God damn noise. Maybe I need the noise to write poems, make love, and eat. I'm going to hang a sign out my window that says More Noise Please, or Thank You For Making Noise! Maybe we are the kind of people who need to have what we don't want just to get along, to do the basic things. Myself, I could not sleep last night and I could not close the window, either. I tried to tear the window out of its frame and put it in a closed position, banging and ripping with a hammer and a screwdriver, standing on the window ledge in my socks, three stories up. But the window wouldn't come out, the factory was screaming and the trucks were rumbling and the whole world was praying for silence and it was up to me to shut the window and I couldn't get it down. I was just making more noise. A jet went by and all the people waved. "Thanks!," I yelled as the shift changed without a lull in production at the big plant across the street. The workers lined up at the bus stop, watching me with my hammer in the window. I put sponge stoppers in my ears but I can't stand those things for more than a few minutes. Finally I put my head between two pillows. It is the same every night. I love it. I need it. "Without you I could not live! I would not have written this poem!," I yell, the window dangling half on, half off.
Lion Shredder - Be Gone!Ey Sweetie... Send me a PM with what you are looking for and I can put the word out high and low.
I wish you and your lovely all the best in finding an abode that works for ya.
Also I am grateful for having the opportunity to work with you at your space for the Salons.
|Start looking and don't stop til you find it. I hear it takes approximately four to six weeks of hard looking to find a decent place in SF these days. *roll Mission Impossible theme* Or are you actively considering further south along the 280 corridor?|