Local Color

It occurred to me long ago --and the point was hammered home last nite-- that there are two kinds of people who live in Chicago: those who clear the fuck out of here for the Fourth of July, and the rest who remain behind to blast off fireworks like maniacs in this big, tightly-packed city.

I'm serious --I live steps from a beach, it's a gloriously sunny and dry but not hot day, and there is an abundance of available on-street parking out front during the noon hour of a Saturday, which is otherwise unheard of (and the same goes for other major summer holiday weekends, but it's particularly noticeable on and around the Fourth).

As for those who stuck around, they were at it bigtime late into the evening last nite. Loud, colorful, elaborate and seemingly endless displays went on, with howls of delight and approval issuing forth into the nite. I tried to bed down at about 10:30 I guess and just put up with it for a while --just when you'd think that a moment's silence indicated that the show was over, you'd be rudely corrected by the next salvo-- but I at least managed to sleep until nigh on 7 this morning.

After 9:30 or so this morning I cued up Hunky Dory on Y'allTube and let it play. I didn't blast it, but I played it loudly enough to hear it from across the unit whilst doing the dishes --and if it distracted anyone else's sleep, well, serves the buggers right for staying up so goddam late with their fireworks displays...