April 2005 Archives

The monolith

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I can't shake the feeling that it's knows I'm there. Even with my back turned I'm aware of it's presence, feeling it's presence aware of me. Faceless, eyeless, it watches me. An absurd thought. It's just another inanimate object after all. Large, black, rectangular. Difficult to anthropomorphise, even for me.

It's been sitting there for a couple of days now, this obsidian cuboid of darkly familiar dimensions. A single solid mass, much larger than I'd anticipated. It dominates the room, drawing the eye above all other distractions. The already small room seems even smaller, darker. It's utterly silent, though I fancy I hear a non-existent hum emanating from it when my mind wanders. Neither hum nor silence offers any comfort.

Gazing upon it the though crosses my mind again. That all it would take is a hand pressed gently against one silky ebony surface and the softest of pushes to follow Alice into a twilight looking glass world. Sheer nonsense of course, but oddly believable despite the rules of common sense. I resist the temptation to touch it.

Perhaps these feelings are common among owners of new television sets. Or is it just me?

The blogging hour

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It's been a long time since I've found myself sitting at a computer late at night with the silent hum of an internet connection filling the air. Perhaps it's merely the scent of spring in the air that's turned this young man's thoughts to blogging again, but more likely it's sheer opportunism. Hmm, young man. I'm hardly an old man, but I don't think I can in all honestly call myself a young man anymore. Note sure what that leaves me. A thirty something? Or just a man? The reason for these grown up thoughts? I found myself listening to a gaggle of young girls on a train earlier. I don't think I've ever felt an age gap so acutely. I wasn't deliberately eavesdropping, but I couldn't fully tune out their conversation. That said, what came as a surprise was just how little of it I could understand. They talked with acute rapidity in a vernacular that wasn't wholly familiar to me. I caught phrases here are there, sometimes a sentence, but oftentimes I was lucky if I could understand every other word. What I found remarkable was how easy it was to reduce to just noise. Normally it's virtually impossible to concentrate on someone's speech and not interpret it. It's not a conscious process and you can't not hear the words someone speaks. The noise emanating from these girls, however, seemed to be a curious exception. By closing my eyes and concentrating I found I could deliberately reduce it to a meaningless drone, much like the wah-wah-wahing of Charlie Brown's unseen teacher. Only several octaves higher. Possibly more.

Hmm, I still don't like the idea that I'm getting old. I'll posit this alternative instead: My age has remained constant, but the young are getting younger.

I think I much prefer that explanation.