Sounds of the Hood

Right now, it's pretty peaceful for a Saturday afternoon. Baby, it's cold outside and the guys who usually hang out on the street in bunches, basking in the deep thump of their car stereo's bass are -- well, I really don't know where they are.

Where do they go to be cool when it's cold or raining out? Most of the baggies (so called for their low-slung denim and untucked, XXL white t-shirts) still live with their parents, and I suspect that spending time outdoors playing with their astoundingly loud music systems isn't really for love of fresh air and sunshine.

Someone down the street has their tunes on, and though it's muffled by my double-glazed windows, I still hear a thud-thud, thud thud thud pounding low from someone's car. Or it might be Janelle, the girl across the street who's almost always sitting on her front porch with her outdoor porch stereo on.

She's either staring into space, or she's braiding someone's hair. Her clients are usually Latino or black guys who drive up in pimped cars and leave them double-parked while she works on the tresses. It's quite a little social scene, and the tough guys look kind of vulnerable as they sit under the spell of her braiding hands, like little boys with their mother.

Other sounds include squealing tires, the passing rise and fall of music as a loud car drives towards my house and then away, birdsongs, the damn ice cream truck, followed by children, the next-door dogs barking, cars revving, helicopters, and, like right now, sunshine and silence.