Flashes of Panic

Outer Life has put up two entries titled “Bubble Boy” which hit two of the things I dislike about living in cities. I’m particularly fond of the second, which describes a sort of bunker mentality which I associate with the “burbclaves” in Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash. (How can I not like a book which, with a straight face, has a main character named Hiro Protagonist?)

Interesting timing, anyway. I was watching the first part of Good Will Hunting the other night. I like that movie, but haven’t seen it full length for years; I don’t often re-watch movies. I’m waiting for the scene where he explains to The Suit why he’s not going to take the think-tank job. Anyway. Last time, I saw it as a smart kid getting his due. This time, I’m seeing it as a defensive and messed-up person figuring out how to open up and let people help him. Odd.

The reason these two things fit together is something I noticed in watching. Whenever Ben Affleck’s character shows up to pick up Will, Will never seems to lock his door. Is he living at home with his parents, so there’s someone there? Why is the door never locked? This is South Boston, after all.

Out here, it’s touch and go when to lock your doors. I lock my car in the driveway; I had a CD player swiped from my car less than half a mile away while I was in the post office. But a neighbor leaves his bike outdoors, unlocked. At work, I don’t lock up; we’re in the middle of nowhere, just about, and several office windows look out on the parking lot. But I reflexively have the key out when I go to leave in the afternoon.

Maybe it’s just a feeling. Maybe when you’re comfortable somewhere, you automatically skip the locking up step. Clearly it’s so low-level I don’t really think about it most of the time.

Now playing: Next Lover from Seven by James