There is no more Mexican Polka in the building across the alley. No more being woken up at 6:05am with the music ending at 6:38am. No. Now there is a 23 year old Millennial/hipster complete with ironic Merle Olsen beard using a typewriter, IBM Selectric or so it sounds, to write his memoirs between 1:30am and whenever the fuck he realizes he is an uninteresting prick – usually around 5am.

Where is Proust when you need him to do wet work for you?