"I'm Going To Fly Away; Hey, What've I Got To Lose?"

"I'll tell you what, man; we just THREW DOWN on guitars and bass. We just finished now. I'm telling you WE. THREW. DOWN! Apartment A206 was just like Woodstock, with the ghost of Jimi Hendrix hovering over us!"

 

"Yeah? That's cool. Hey, you gotta cigarette?"

I continue to get my 3 hours of practice in, even on the nights I don't go out to busk. Those nights I wind up at Jr's on the second floor where, for some reason you can play with your amplifier on 10 and nobody complains; not even the people above me, who stomp on my ceiling as soon as I play a few notes at a volume of "3" on my amp. They are right down the hall from Jr.
Maybe those people have gotten tired of complaining; and take into account Jr's mental acuity or lack thereof, and his forgetfulness (to the point of repeating things that he just said 10 minutes earlier, as if they are novel thoughts).
But, at Jr's, I have to scream as loud as I can just to hear myself over the amplifiers; and this done with his door wide open so the sound spills out into the hallway.