Ok, that's it. I've had it!

No more Mr. Nice Guy (in this story, I am Mr. Nice Guy). The guy upstairs who had the audacity to complain about the noise of my piano-playing has not heeded my many requests for him to please not smoke in the basement. It wafts up through the vents into our apartment and is disgusting. I asked him. I asked the landlord. I have been a plain old bitch and just yelled down through the vents to stop. So...FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT! I'm no longer trying to keep my piano playing to a minimum. Why should I try? I hate knowing I'm being passive aggressive or petty, but I'm so sick of it, and it's not fair. What I'm doing is art; what he's doing could give me cancer.