visual asceticism

Yesterday it rained. This is not unusual for London. And, in preparation for moving from a land that knows no rain, to a land that knows some rain, I made sure to get sufficient supply of contacts. (N.b. I say ‘some’, because it is rare that it actually ‘rains’ in London, most times it is just ubiquitous damp falling.) (N.b.b. When I say ‘I made sure’ it is better to read ‘My loving wife made sure’.)

Yesterday, however, I was wearing my glasses in order to give my eyes a bit of a break. And, as I have already mentioned, it was raining. Not really raining, in the sense that any self-respecting rain storm would think of ‘rain’, but in the usual London fashion of ubiquitous damp falling in a generally downward manner. This being the case, I removed my glasses when traversing the damp city scape.

I am not blind, or at least not in the technical sense, and since even ‘colour blindness’ is sometimes referred to as being ‘colour vision impaired’, I am not blind at all. Anything past my elbow, however, is blurry. And so as I walked on the cobble stone through fuzzy patches of puddles and leaves, I felt wonderfully secluded.

Being cut off from the constancy of the flying simulacra and their battery of detailed contours and meanings lets one’s thoughts speak all the louder. And as yesterday was a grouchy day, most of my thoughts were banal and vain. I found it rather odd, almost pleasant, in a way, to hear each futility as though over a loud speaker and, not having the distraction of a nuanced visual scape, be able to address each in turn.

~ by jeorgesmith on 2 June 2010.

One Response to “visual asceticism”

  1. There are some days when I wish I had a hearing aid I could turn off. Then I’d nod and smile and people would think I was very polite. :-)

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