Bay window (Part III)

Nighttime in the neighbourhood. I want to give you an impression of the people that live here. As usual, that impression comes as a single image. I was walking down the street, when from across I heard a ruckus. It was a biker jurling strings of obsenities at an SUV driver. Poor little lady had no idea what to do. The biker was determined; since traffic was frustatingly stop-and-go, he managed to follow her for several blocks, shouting. The content of what he was saying will remain a mystery, but it points to an interesting ambiguity. Was he the environmentally conscious crusader, righeously bitching out this urban engine of greenhouse gas production, this engine of distant oil wars? Or was he just an asshole who could not afford a car shouting out his otherwise mute rage at "society"? Such is the character of this neigbourhood: we are comprised of idealists in minimalist livign conditions intermingled with assholes and burnouts in cheap housing. Sometimes this intermingling occurs within a single person. Are you cheap because you're on a budget or is it a front to hide the fat bank account which, in this neighbourhood, might as well be a bludgeon waiting to drop. I'm cheap. I don't pretend to have squared away my own reasons.

Additionally: festering garbage odours waft in through the window; soon the porch will be filled with the bassist, singer and guitarist of an up-and-coming (read: unknown) band. They will be talking, their conversation a curious mixture of the above-mentioned ambiguity.

Consider: "We've arranged a civilization in which most crucial elements profoundly depend on science and technology. We have also arranged things so that almost no one understands science and technology. This is a prescription for disaster. We might get away with it for awhile, but sooner or later this combustible mixture of ignorance and power is going to blow up in our faces."