In Which We're All Powerless.

The power was out when I got home this evening. I wasn't really surprised, because a section of my street was blocked off by police cars, and all the traffic lights between there and home were out. But it was still weird. I couldn't get on the internet, couldn't have a hot dinner, couldn't hear the phone ring (never mind, it's too complicated to explain here), couldn't watch the rest of the Creature Comforts DVD that's already overdue, couldn't put music on the stereo. I read for a while, dozed a little, and was startled by a distant screeech -- thud.

I put my shoes back on and went out to investigate. A car had hit a telephone pole at the far end of the block; the driver was standing nearby, shoulders slumped, talking on a cel phone. Blocks beyond, traffic veered around blinking blue and red lights. I couldn't see what was going on, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. How many things can go wrong in my neighborhood in one night?

It was getting darker inside, and out of boredom and curiosity I set out on foot to investigate. The traffic accident(s) and line repairmen were in different directions, so I chose the latter, knowing that the only way to find out why the power was out was to just walk down and see for myself. (News publications, online or in print, never seem to cover important things like this.)

The blocked-off section of street contained several darkened apartment complexes, and clusters of residents stood around, watching the men in the cherry picker do mysterious things to the power line. The atmosphere was light-hearted; neighbors swapped info, cracked jokes. "Well, I wasn't here, but apparently something wore out and gave way, and a line fell," a tall blonde woman told me, tugging at her dog's leash. "I heard it happened about 3 or 4:00 this afternoon. The line was sparking, and it caught the grass on fire right over there." The dog growled at a line repairman who tried to join the conversation. A Schipperke: what it lacked in size, it made up for in venom. "No lights indoors, no TV, no internet -- what are you gonna do but stand out here and watch?" the woman said. "I bet the power will be back on just in time for bed."

The fading light brought people outside all down the street. As I walked home, I saw couples sitting in their front yards chatting, parents out toting kiddies in various carriers and strollers, way more people than usual hanging out at the park. A male vocal quartet stood in front of one house, harmonizing with sheet music in hand: Too late, my brother; too late, but never mind.... One of them glanced at me self-consciously; I grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

I am way too tired and cranky to draw philosophical conclusions about the effects of technology, or the lack thereof, on community in urban neighborhoods. I would prefer not to extrapolate predictions, optimistic or otherwise, about life after peak oil. All I know is that this evening, for the first time in a long (long) time, I felt like blogging again.

And also, on the way home, I had this song in my head:
The Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)