clang, clang, clang went the trolley

i grew up in the boonies. couldn't see the neighbors, except for the occasional odd slant of long visual perspective on winter's deadest days. it was preturnaturally quiet, and sound carried quite far. (but, lol, i still remember the strange sound every year in early summer, something from another world apparently hatched and dwelled under the pool cover. although it croaked and shrieked, we never caught it.)

urban dwellers have a certain symbiotic relationship with noise. mostly, we blend it into our daily fabric; it becomes *just* white noise, with no particular value, other than the subconscious effort expended to embed it. we do not expect to hear the sky hum a stardust melody, or frogs sing out to each other through the reeds. there will be no moonlit blanket. mostly we achieve a certain "one-ness" with our immediate and more insistent sounds, and become inured to the constant aural assault.

my condo overlooks and so i overhear a chunk of the biggest public works project in modern history. the subway and airport are right here. yet many friends settled in other states perceive me as living steps from the ocean (well, yes) and a heartbeat and dream-date away from a bucolic life as a lighthouse keeper's wife.

i have never been a solid sleeper.

the train starts its business at 5:30.

even though mandate says 7:00 a.m., dozens of dusty workers are typically at it by 6:00. sometimes, it's as early as 3:30!!! i'm beginning to feel like that *beep*beep*beeping* backing up sound of heavy equipment will be my eternal soundtrack loop in hell, ya know? jackhammering of asphalt, sawing of cement, backhoes tracking gravel, trees and dirt, pile drivers, and assorted trucks and machines and earth-movers all conspire for an onslaught.

recently, i've realized that it's been some weeks since i've slept more than 3 hours straight. i get home late and no matter how much i ache to sleep, the combo of emotional devastation, financial ruin, a 12-hour workday and then the city dweller's equivalent of cocks crowing, it doesn't happen. frankly, i fear i'm beginning to lose my wits. my patience left sometime ago.

my personal jury remains out as to whether it's the noise on the street, or that inside my head keeping me awake.