At the bookstore there is, in the back room, a fire alarm-type-siren which is so loud that to be in the room with it when it is wailing causes disorientation and nausea.

This morning at 4:00 I discovered that there is an identical siren on the roof of the local jewelry repair shop, less than a hundred feet from my bed. Apparently a glitch in the wiring set it off. It screamed for a good half-hour before one of the dozen or so police responding to irate phone calls managed to disconnect it.

No sign of the owner.

I can appreciate that the siren is there to make the building more safe and secure, but I feel that it should be mandatory that he have a duplicate siren in his bedroom, which can only be shut off from inside his store. Fair is fair.

In other news, I am considering, in my extravagant free time, performing a scholarly comparison between Dostoevsky and Mishima. If you don’t know what I am talking about, then click on the BOOKS link to the right and spend a little time browsing. I will perform the comparison on my trombone. I bet no-one has done THAT yet.