Bcc: A Simple Spoon
...their bold and all-encompassing plans for the next year or five, which are based on absolutely nothing save certain intricate and elusive patchwork of "norms" and "values" mostly unconsciously accepted from the peer group they least detest. E. referred once to the Great Battle of Narratives, speaking of the futility in seeking fine distinctions between thinkers brandishing the same grand political affiliation. The more I read and listen within this narrow and obscure social circle of ours, the more I am inclined to forego the personal differences...
(And oh! am I not, with my mind all hazy, irrational, and unsuited to abstraction, am I not especially well positioned to recognise and savour those differences? Shall I tell you how the world looks for a legally blind man when he takes off his glasses? And he has to, sometimes, lest they fall accidentally on the floor or be squashed by a careless turn of one's limb. Unaided, his vision can only work in two very distinct modes. In one, he can acknowledge the presence of the other person, whilst not being granted much in the way of any poignant detail. A head. A torso. An arm outstretched or dropped in a meticulously uncalculated fashion that is lost on him anyway. In another mode he can simultaneously observe with reasonable clarity approximately twenty square inches of an arbitrary surface, whereof the perception is rather precise, but his vision is already mingling rapidly with all his other senses at once. Except hearing, of course. The hearing is the last that remains and the auditory memories are the ones that survive the longest before fading away into the grey and dull preserve of the Verbal.
Some may cite Kerensky at this point, stating that all women are equally attractive to the unspectacled. This might have been true for Kerensky, but bear in mind that his worst myopia was probably the best I can achieve with either glasses, lenses, or surgeon's laser. Hence, I do believe this mot of his to be a cheap bravado, or otherwise people are much more focused on the strictly visual than I expect them to. You need about a thousand pixels to grasp other's body language and my glasses probably give me half a megapixel. Then come the skin colour, the hairdo, and the minute uncontrolled shudderings and twitchings of the extremities, all perfectly catchable even by very inferior optics — and all of this even before we have left the domain of the eye.
Now, I do most of my life with ears. I love with my ears and I loathe with my ears, I get amused by one's wit and appalled by one's self-righteousness, I tell friends from foes, I am taught, but I also do teach, I am driven, but I also do drive, all with my ears. Men and women alike, their looks and movements are so very crucial on the spur of the moment, but it is their voices, their breathing and the tiny noises produced by their attire that is left me after the cornucopia of the Visual is gone and forgotten like a dream. They sometimes call me on the phone too, helpfully refreshing my memories beyond what is rising from the screen pockmarked by the black and wiggly letters. And not everyone likes to visit in person, especially if purchasing flight or train tickets is involved. Especially in today's economy. Should you leave this city, my friend, an elaborate replica of your manner of speech will stay behind you. Can't promise I'll remember many of the words that have been spoken. I should think about starting to take notes at last.)
But I digress...
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