Sort of Out of Sorts
Dec. 16th, 2005 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphMore fairy holiday winter Christmas Holy Days lights are being installed by dwellers along the street. The guy at the dead end of the block who always lights his stunted bushes and non-pine lollipop tree has added two new window decorations this year, side by side. I think they are a star and a wreath of lights (at least that's what they look like from this distance, given my blurry vision, and I don't feel like going up there to get a closer look), but from here they look like two big googly eyes. That's "googly" like Barney Google, not "googly" as in something you'd look for on Google. Now, every time I go out, I get the feeling that I'm being watched-- perhaps by one of the minions of Bill O'Riled-up.
Thuggish Neighbor has festooned his house with one of those webs of lights that drapes from the eaves, but he has chosen blue lights rather than the customary white. There's something very chilly and off-putting about blue lights. The lurid red lights which drape the front yard tree of the corner house do bring a slightly whorish atmosphere to the street, but at least red lights exude some warmth. Thuggish's blue lights are the icy color of an Aryan poster boy's eyes, which I find quite disconcerting.
Perhaps more revealing is that fact that, with one exception, the houses which are lit up this year are those which are occupied by the younger citizens of the block. All but one of the houses inhabited by the elderly (and usually decorated by this time), are dark. I'm thinking they might be worried about their PG&E bills. A large portion of California's electricity is generated by natural gas, the price of which has gone way up because of the damage to production facilities along the gulf coast. It's going to be a costly winter, even if it turns out to be mild. In such circumstances, for those of greater experience at least, the public display of festive lights has less appeal than heat for one's personal space.
In other news, I'm feeling a considerable amount of irritation from no identifiable source. It's the sort of annoyed restlessness which, where I of a violent disposition, would probably make me feel that I'd really like to go out and kick somebody's ass, and I wouldn't much care whose. Maybe one of the people involved in this: It's not about sociology. It's all about him. Not being of such a temperament, maybe I'll just go see if there's a nice, brainless, distracting movie on television tonight.
Thuggish Neighbor has festooned his house with one of those webs of lights that drapes from the eaves, but he has chosen blue lights rather than the customary white. There's something very chilly and off-putting about blue lights. The lurid red lights which drape the front yard tree of the corner house do bring a slightly whorish atmosphere to the street, but at least red lights exude some warmth. Thuggish's blue lights are the icy color of an Aryan poster boy's eyes, which I find quite disconcerting.
Perhaps more revealing is that fact that, with one exception, the houses which are lit up this year are those which are occupied by the younger citizens of the block. All but one of the houses inhabited by the elderly (and usually decorated by this time), are dark. I'm thinking they might be worried about their PG&E bills. A large portion of California's electricity is generated by natural gas, the price of which has gone way up because of the damage to production facilities along the gulf coast. It's going to be a costly winter, even if it turns out to be mild. In such circumstances, for those of greater experience at least, the public display of festive lights has less appeal than heat for one's personal space.
In other news, I'm feeling a considerable amount of irritation from no identifiable source. It's the sort of annoyed restlessness which, where I of a violent disposition, would probably make me feel that I'd really like to go out and kick somebody's ass, and I wouldn't much care whose. Maybe one of the people involved in this: It's not about sociology. It's all about him. Not being of such a temperament, maybe I'll just go see if there's a nice, brainless, distracting movie on television tonight.
