The psychological census, garden gnomes, wind-chimes, revenge & Russian roulette…

There is something so devilishly irrelevant about contemporary garden art—

That it cannot help failing to stimulate…

223102_10151214972906041_603918045_nThis is not always a good thing. It’s actually positively cruel in ways I am loathe to describe in too much detail, just in case my points are used for criminal purposes. There’s no doubt in my mind that some of this rubbish’s innocuousity— quite shamelessly so— could be exploited for tormenting the innocent; myself included, and I mention it only because the winds that pound my window, are also the same winds currently upsetting the wind-chime next door; belonging to a woman so grotesque, I have a mind to suggest she audition to become a garden feature— in someone elses garden.

It’s not that it’s something I could reel off a hundred objections against with ease, it’s just— well, everything about them. I fail to see anything remotely redeeming about them— it’s just my hope that someone I’m not too keen on is being creeped out too. They are made from scrap, crap and rubbish; they look like it and their sounds reflects the way they look. And just to compound the issue, the weather at present is far too intemperate to contemplate many more nights like last night.

The godawful racket wasn’t so much as reflected as it was carried off and up and around, before being thrown about with great force, seemingly sucking energies from the earth as it tried to dent my windows, my ears and my tranquillity— three things one really ought, if one does not already— hold dearly. No one need feel put upon in this way, which is what precipitated the streak of ruthless cunning with which to whisk future gales— should one reappear— perhaps one future day. Perhaps tonight?

My plans are dependant upon one unlikely event however and should it not transpire, I’ve a mind to just insert my own: the introduction of a psychological census. With the results, I could then ensure the correct noise was placed under the correct bedroom, correctly of course— in order to procure maximum nocturnal irritation. And if I couldn’t be specific and individually tailor my treats— there would always be the car-alarm— at least I’d like to think resorting to such a thing would be unnecessary: car-alarms are bastards.

My uncle is a great lover of tack: that would be inane rubbish to you or I. And were it not only his passion for buying it, but his passion for hanging it in his garden, we’d propably have more in common. A collection of twirly throws of coloured plastic whizzing back and forth are one of his more tasteless stylistic comments, in fact I’d prefer to call it a commitment. Another is a set of chimes; made from bamboo. It rather puts me in mind of ‘The Bridge On The River Kwai’ or the Vietnamese POW camp in ‘The Deer Hunter’, you want to rattle it and shout ‘Mao-mao!’ loudly, preferably within a foot from someone’s face. Though the temptation to actually put my foot in anyone’s face is rare, I believe I would make the except if next door pretended she was a gnome.

Now this is coming from someone who only saw the film— it’s rhetorical and I am not being influenced by television— but imagine if you’d actually been there and something woke you up by rattling bamboo outside your window. Imagine you have a slight incontinence problem only to wake up with a replica of the Trafalgar Square fountain floating in front of your face. Imagine being afraid and finding your fear hanging outside your bedroom window:

Perhaps it will be me, with a copy of: 

The psychological census…

And don’t get me started on gnomes…

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2 thoughts on “The psychological census, garden gnomes, wind-chimes, revenge & Russian roulette…

  1. Argus

    I have two problems:
    1) I love wind chimes. Some of them.
    2) My sister gave us a really great wind chime—made from old boiler plate (welded, triangular with one gap) that sounds exactly like an old nautical buoy. Designed to, it succeeds. I love it.
    3) It also rates very highly on the decibel scale, right up there with crashing 747s and a party political broadcast.
    4. I lied about the numbers …

    So I solved the contradictions inherent in being a kind, caring, compassionate/considerate neighbour and loving my wind chime—by hanging said beast up in my garage, right over the bench. A wind-free zone if ever there was one, but with the added bonus that (I’m a forgetful old sod) every time I’m passing by or working at the bench I give the blasted thing a fearful smack with the ol’ skull and set it off. A lovely booming chime and all the stars I could want, free.

    I’m now pondering if I can do the same with the noisy Jack Russells in the neighbourhood—okay, they’d honk a bit after a while but the peace would be all the more appreciated …

    Reply
    1. Just a Little Background Noise Post author

      Hahaha, you’ve got a yapper in the vicinity have you, jeebs! Then again, my cat is a noisy creature: she does the whole screaming-baby thing better than a starving infant, bless her! Ooh, I have some things I’d like to do to the neighbours – purely hypothetically you understand, it’s much more fun. They too are on the list of things to write about! This idea tickled me immensely though: the domestic psy-op! It opens so many doors for the amateur guerrilla!
      😀

      Reply

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