Ein²

[Ambulance Angst]

The sound of an ambulance always makes me cry. The pitiful wailing reminds me of how fragile the bonds of life really are. The rising and falling scream rarely signifies good tidings. Perhaps that's why I cry. Deep inside, where I keep it carefully hidden, beats the heart of a sensitive.

[Doped Out Doper]

Yesterday, the sunlight called to us through the open window. Putting aside our duties for part of an early afternoon, we went promenading in St. Ann's Well Garden, a local planned garden spot, occupying a few city blocks. On our way back, we stopped to stroll through Brunswick Square. Brunswick Square is the slightly more upscale and definitely more beautiful residential square in our area. Unfortunately, the less savoury elements who inhabit the closer Norfolk Square have migrated the few blocks down the seafront to this beautiful Regency square. On this particular day, we had walked through almost to the seafront entrance when we passed a person lying passed out along the path. Passed out drunks are a relatively common fixture around this part of Brighton, even in early afternoon, so we did walk past initially, our eyes flickering over the sight as we continued our banal conversation on a bright day. Something wasn't quite right. The image passed again quickly through my mind and I doubled back to be sure. This wasn't a passed out drunk. A capped needle lay nestled in the crook of his neck and a small serum-sized bottle on top of the bench nearby. He was out completely, hardly moving. I couldn't tell by looking if he was breathing and his eyes were mere whites, rolled up into his head.

Caught without our cellular phones, I ran towards a man yabbering away on his and begged him to call 911. He instead pointed me to a telephone booth on the other side of the hedge. While I was on the telephone with emergency services, my conversational partner was dispatched to check on the poor man's breathing and try to rouse him. Within a short time, we were attended by an ambulance. The man had just returned to the mundane world, but he was confused and seemed concerned with the fact that another man had perhaps run off with his money. He denied to the ambulance crew that he took drugs, but the needle so carefully crooked capped next to his neck had been used. The bottle on the bench had been painkillers. He'd knocked himself out or been knocked out by his accomplice on a combination of painkillers and cooked smack. He stumbled away, refusing assistance from the ambulance crew, and headed in his shambling, confused way down the street. I, choked up with emotion, watched silently, wishing him well. Had I helped him? Perhaps not. But at least I hadn't blindly walked on by.

[Lock Those Libraries]

I visited the library at the University of Sussex yesterday for the first time in ages. I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that the library is now locked up tighter than a drum. In order to enter the library at all, you need to have a valid library card which is scanned by a card reader attached to the turnstyles. This just seems so... odd. I can understand preventing unauthorized people from removing items from the building, but why prevent anyone from entering and using the contents in a polite way? I've been to university libraries in several European countries, across three Canadian provinces, and in a few American states, and I've never seen a locked down library before. The war on terrorism has spread to libraries: our knowledge might be contaminated. Lock those libraries!

I went to the library yesterday expressly to find the supposedly available copy of Delany's Babel-17. After fumbling with my card at the turnstyle (no instructions were provided -- in fact, I just guessed that it wanted to scan my library barcode), I went on a exploratory mission to the deepest, darkest depths of the library, hunting for the elusive, improperly signed 'PZ' category which holds the library's limited science fiction collection. As I went down darkened row after darkened row (yes, dark!), lights magically came on before me. Actually, I thought this was an excellent new feature of the library. After all, many areas of the stacks are very lightly trafficked, if at all, so only turning lights on when someone is in them and moving is probably a win-win situation for the environment, for electricity costs, and for cooling costs in the summer. Now we have a library that keeps terrorists out and lights up the lives of permitted patrons. Will wonders never cease?

[Wheelie Bins for Waste]

Brighton + Garbage = It's a real mess.

My solution: wheelie bins for all. Yes, I secretly lust after a wheelie bin for my rubbish. Actually, I lust after a whole city full of wheelie bins, just like Nottingham. If everybody had a wheelie bin, then I could probably rely on mine not being stolen. I could also put out my garbage the night before collection and not leave the house the next morning to find that the seagulls managed to break into it and strew it all over the street, making a very large, unsanitary mess on my doorstep.

First, we get Wheelie Bins, then we take care of the poor recycling!