I don't believe I have any recourse, Lucy. Not according to my manager, and not according to the Police. Apparently, a person has the right play anything in their own home, or apartment, at any volume that suits them, as long as it's turned down by midnight. The owner told me that evicting this guy...evicting anyone...is a difficult thing to do, because apparently the guy downstairs has rights. His rights are actually addressed. My right not to have to be driven insane, though it sucks major ostrich eggs, is not addressed in any way, shape, or form that gives me the right to complain. Indeed, were I to call the manager everyday, for everyday it's my world, I could end up in trouble for constant harassment, as I would be pleading about an issue that the owner feels he has no right to control. Apparently, he's a "live and let live" type of person, too. I now know it's easy to be that type of person when worlds don't collide. My last, best hope was to try and reason with the guy, but he said something to me that has made it in his best interest that we not come face to face. I went down to his apartment the middle of last December, to plead with him to cut me some slack, that my Mom was critically ill, and I needed my rest so I could be there for her in the best capacity possible. He told me he didn't care, that his brother had died, so some old lady meant nothing to him. Instead of choking him right then and there, I told him I had lost a brother as well, and I felt for his loss. He said, "I don't give a f**k about you, your brother, or you f*****G mother, and if you don't leave me alone, I'm calling the Police". It truly is in his best interest that we not come face to face. Like I said before, no telling what crazy may do, and I would love to go all "Towanda" on his ass.