The Whistler

We have a whistler where I live. He paces around here in the mornings & whistles all kinds of stuff. I heard the national anthem yesterday via whistle… then some Rhiana song, lol. The guy has some talent. A whistler reminds me of the ending of a “Moonlighting” episode from back in the 80s. Bruce Willis & Cybil Shepherd famously had that taboo sorta romance that never actually materialized really. The plot writers just strung us along on a juicy tale of call me maybes… lol.

A whistler always reminds me of a play stage set in the pre-war 20s era. A guy in a jeff cap & suspenders exiting stage left with a see ya later whistle. A whistler makes me picture the end of an old detective movie even, when the mystery is solved… & the rogue detective disappears down the lonely street into the rising sewer pipe steam. Storylines for a whistle have endless possibilities.

Ya know what’s nice about a whistler? Ya can’t tell what color they are, gender, race, age, religion… a whistler is anonymous in a sense, just an echoing little reminder that we are all one brand of being… Human.

I live in the weirdest apartment complex ever, for real. And everybody who knows where I live, gets it. This is kinda gross, but there are like hundreds of people who live in buildings A-F on this property & it sure seems like every single one made a bet with each other to see who can hock the most spit. What is wrong with people? Zero class, zero consideration for others, just plain unsanitary. I literally do not touch any railings & tiptoe around here like I’m walking through a land mine most days. Dirty, messy, uncouth, unevolved, unhealthy, unwell people exist right in the backyard, folks.

Then… there is a huge community of feral cats here… like a hundred or so, which we all pitch in to feed, but that doesn’t seem to help. They still multiply despite our efforts to fix & spay. They fight at night, & when it rains here… the cat pee saturated ground lifts to serenade the senses with such an intoxicating aroma that I have to shut all my windows & doors. Not to mention, one lot over, there is a small “tent city” filled with mostly alcoholic homeless people who linger around the property like sad abandoned pets. All of it, breaks my heart, honestly. Poverty, hunger & homelessness exists right in the backyard, folks.

The guy downstairs wakes us all up every Saturday morning with INXS “Don’t Change” ON REPEAT, blaring out his wide-open apartment… over & over & over again, until he passes out I guess, & it gets all quiet all of a sudden. Some days it’s a whole “Heart” album & he drunkenly sings along with every song, it’s actually pretty legendary. But on the contrary, like a real live scene out of a Teen Scream flick… there is a young like 23-year-old girl who has screaming fits out underneath the steps sometimes. She screams bloody murder for like 2 hours straight like a horror movie actor. Cops eventually show up & they get screamed at too… it’s kinda funny. But not… cause there really is something seriously wrong with her. Depression, suicide, PTSD & major mental illnesses exist right in the backyard, folks.

There are a lot of random retired New Yorkers here, big wigs who aged out of the restaurant business living on social security, a bunch of retired truck drivers divorced & estranged from any semblance of family & a plethora of people who more than qualify for disability checks. EVERYONE has a story. My former next-door neighbor, this old strung out retired stockbroker from Bosten, used to tell me stories of being an errand boy for Whitey Bolger, back when he was a kid. One neighbor of mine, is the same age as Donald Trump, back in the day in NYC his highschool used to play Trump’s highschool in sports, lol. My other neighbor who since passed away… jammed with Eric Clapton a few times back in the 70s. Old, lonely, sad, abandoned, washed-out has-beens exist right in the backyard, folks.

Heck, an infamous retired old bank robber lived here once. A bunch of junkies & pseudo King Pins still do live here. The sex offender registry has quite a few hits on the apartment complex map, unfortunately. And if you look at the town’s mug shot page on the police blotter, you will recognize half of my neighborhood. It’s a little unnerving, lol. Criminals, con-artists, creepers, dealers & addicts exist right in the backyard, folks.

Thank god for “the whistler.” If it wasn’t for him, raising our attention to greener pastures around here, this place would definitely be a shade darker, lol. Every neighborhood should have one.

Maybe one day I will write a book on that.

But for now… I offer you THIS:

“Live a soul-inspired life” is not just a trendy bumper sticker.

Thanks for reading!

#InLoveWeTrust

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