Friday, October 17, 2003
Prince of Darkness
I have written in the past about knocking out streetlights (like, here and here). In short, for almost 20 years I’ve noticed that streetlights seem to go out around me, not all the time, but often enough for me to notice it. Most people I ask deny such experiences in their own lives. Once I’ve sensitized them to the phenomenon, they usually tell me that they still don’t notice streetlights going out - unless they’re hanging out with me as I “pump up the entropy” and spread darkness and gloom wherever I go. And that’s cool. “Prince of Darkness” isn’t the worst nickname I’ve ever had. (That would probably have been “Spazamanic,” for purposes of comparison.)
Well now I learn, belatedly, that my spiritual leader, Cecil Adams, has seen fit to address this critical issue. His explanation seems to relate primarily to one of two phenomena: the physical striking of, or disturbance to, the lamp (and this would explain the first such incident of which I was aware); or the cycling on and off of aging lamps with sodium vapor that needs to build up to a certain internal pressure, at which point the lamp turns off automatically.
As for this second theory, I will admit to a passing familiarity with the buildup of internal vapor pressure - but I’m not satisfied with it as an explanation. First, I continue to notice this phenomenon (and much moreso in the last few months) even in the presence of brand new streetlights, like those stylish ones they just installed in Golden Gate Park. Regardless, let’s assume that even the new lights are somehow beset with this pressure-cycle delumination issue. That explains, to some extent, why the lights go out. It does not explain why they go out around me. I can watch the light shining uninterruptedly for several minutes as I approach; it’s only when I get near it that the damn thing goes out. After I’ve left it appropriately far behind me, it goes back on again, and stays on.
In a rare example of wimping out, Cecil has offered an explanation that begs the question. The crude mechanism for extinguishment is not my interest, it’s how my proximity relates thereto. But at least I know now that I’m not alone. It was hard to tell, you know, hanging out here in the stygian blackness. But I guess I have a support group if I need one. I don’t think I do, though. I rather like being able to extinguish streetlights. I can’t control when it happens, but I am now completely convinced that it’s a reality - and one which has its distinct advantages. There are times that the obscuring darkness is just exactly what a fellow needs.
