Thursday, January 5, 2012

Year One, Jackson Street

The street outside my apartment cycles through the day and night, rising and ebbing but rarely pausing.
If I put a microphone by the window you'd hear...
Jackson Street: Year One ambulance; the hum of traffic; honking horns; firecrackers; people talking loudly after midnight walking home from bars; the long squeal of a trucker's brakes outside the Chinese Hospital making deliveries in the middle of the night; the clang of trollies turning west off Powell Street, climbing up Nob Hill; cable car riders at night hollering in unison as if on a roller coaster as the trolley turns up the hill -- WwwHhhOoo; a flock of screaming wild parrots passing overhead; the Cantonese chatter of parishioners leaving Cumberland Presbyterian Church across way; tourists taking pictures or looking at maps, talking about where they are, or where to eat; handsome paramedics guiding gurneys into the hospital, the patient's relatives going in or making worried phone calls outside; medics on smoke breaks talking to the security guard; garbage & recycling trucks; car alarms; drunk pairs of women teetering on spiked heels, spinning each other around, vomiting in the gutter; kids playing kick ball in the alley.
It might, for brief moments, seem still but always the rustle of the city, the electric light, the waves.


ak debb said...

not a single sound is what you'd hear if you stuck a mic out our window. Even the silence is muffled with so much snow everywhere. Occasionally you might hear a chick-a-dee, but that's about it.

DbV said...

Silence, too, can be deafening.