I Love My Sock

This is my new windsock. At least it's as close as I can come on google to find an image. My sock has an orange tail with black trim. I bought it near Ft. Lauderdale, Florida over the Memorial Day weekend this year at a roadside stand or, rather, it was in the parking lot of one of those beaches along the highway. The guy who sold it to me was really a weird dude with weird facial hair and, also, a very cool guy. I kind of wondered at the time how he got that concession in that particular spot, obviously a mainstream area and I suppose condusive to successful sales of kites and windsocks and whirlygigs but, see, he was basically weird, ya know what I mean?

My windsock is currently dangling from my flag pole out the second story window facing the street. I live in a fairly conservative neighborhood in Brooklyn (although it is becoming more diverse) and there is only one other house with a pole like mine that displays a variety of flags throughout the year. The other one is lesbian driven and features very nice flags that I’ve never seen anywhere for purchase so I presume they are homemade, and I always look forward to what they come up with next. They are much nicer than mine. I own about 20 flags that I fly throughout the year, sometimes seasonal or holiday driven, sometimes appropriate for a particular guest; but mostly just by whim. I usually buy these flags while traveling and I’m often taken in by a window display somewhere and they pretty much turn out to be inappropriate for brownstone Brooklyn.

But I love my fish windsock. She’s beautiful; she’s colorful and she’s constructed perfectly to catch the slightest breeze. She rarely gets tangled around her supporting pole and, thus, does what she’s supposed to do. That is, she creates a pleasing flash of color and freshness and I hope passersby like her. Yes, I’ve anthropomorphized her into being a female with attractive traits. It’s what I do.