A little over a week ago, Joel and I moved into an apartment where we hoped we would finally be able to make as much noise as we wanted, and thus turn up guitar amplifiers, play the drums, hold band rehearsal, and all such things necessary to having a rock band.

When we signed the lease more than month earlier, we were extremely excited and thought we had found a rare gem. Well, upon moving in and unsuccessfully attempting to sleep the first few nights, we began to realize that it just wasn’t the amazing find we’d thought it was.

A lot of noise right outside your front door every night is one thing, rival gang members and rowdy folks on drugs arguing about guns, calling the cops, and who has the right to sell drugs in this ‘hood is is another thing.  A lot of times the commotion became downright creepy, with groups of people literally feet from us on the other side of our large frosted storefront windows casting shadows and talking for hours in fast, ghoulish, crack-induced nonsense.  It just wasn’t what we imagined.  And nerve-wracking.

So, disappointed and still a bit weary, Joel and I are once again looking for a new place to live, and reluctantly gearing up to haul our belongings to what will be our seventh place since we moved to Los Angeles last summer. We’ve come to far to give up now, though.