I have new neighbours next door, on the fence side. They moved in a bunch of big inflated beer bottles and many black T-shirts. They put up an kind of plastic enclosed gazebo hot tub enclosure thingy outside my kitchen window. Today, their driveway is full of tables and chairs. One of them is very industrious. Nina's friends say he's a bouncer/the manager/the owner at a club they go to and that he's creepy and offers them bar tabs. The other isn't around as much, comes and goes by cab, cannot seem to speak below a shout, and prefaces every second sentence with "Maaan, heh heh, ..."
The other guy who lived there still does, so maybe these guys are renting.
"... sixth anniversary of September eleventh ..." Really, that's what the radio said to my kitchen yesterday morning. I missed the whole rest of the piece, thinking about how it used to be in the old days, when we had to leap from September tenth right to the twelfth, and how disorienting it was, and how wise they were for recognizing and remedying this oversight.