Saturday, August 04, 2007

Life at 150 decibels

As I sit and try to write while outside the boomboxes of the boy racers rattle the windows and the car horns cascade along the street and the teething baby next door complains in the only way it can - I listen to my half-deaf neighbour downstairs tootling away on his electric organ, and I'm reminded of one of my favourite short-short stories:

The Scarlatti Tilt

by Richard Brautigan

‘It's very hard to live in a studio apartment in San Jose with a man who's learning to play the violin.’ That's what she told the police when she handed them the empty revolver.


Shanna Germain said...


Tried to IM you! Where you be?


Nikki Magennis said...

Where am I? I'm under the bed with cotton wool in my ears and my headphones on. As usual.

You know, I'm not even joking...

Miss Syl said...

I've always loved this story, too.

Also loved baffling my first-year university creative writing students with it. Oh, the looks on their tentative faces... ("But does it *count*...?")

Nikki Magennis said...

Buongiorno, Syl! Oh, I'd love you as my creative writing teacher. What a blast that would be.