Archive for October, 2004

He sees what you can see, can’t you see that

Thursday, October 21st, 2004

This website is being resurrected but without the porno comments. Porno spam comments are so bad that there is no simile appropriate for them. They are the absolute zero of badness so that from now on all bad things will be likened to them. Example: Defecation is the porno spam of the real world.

My wife, (that is one of the major developments in my life, along with a new office chair and an actual real career that have occurred since the last post) has just given me a wonderful, if flawed illustration of how Original Sin is a real thing that we all can recognise.

It comes from Sartre, via Tim Keller, and it goes like this:
Imagine you can find yourself at a keyhole that allows you an unhindered view of the lives of people in a room. They have no idea you are there and you can see everything they do. You could expect to feel a real sense of power from this situation. Not everyone would be thrilled by it and not everyone would be addicted to it but everyone would feel a surge of power that attracts them to some degree.

Now imagine that you realise there is keyhole into your room and someone is observing you as you have observed. Suddenly the power drains away and you realise that you have been deprived of privacy. Suddenly you feel a wave of regret rush through your body and the signs of anxiety begin to make their presence felt. Knowing you are being watched causes you to no longer act as you have acted and you certainly don’t take pleasure in the voyeurism anymore. You feel the guilt, (even though there is no repercussion) and you change your behaviour.

This is how we all react in situations where we are uncovered in a setting we thought was private. We feel hurt because our territory has been invaded but we change our behaviour because we know that some of it was wrong. (Not to suggest that we necessarily change our behaviour to make it right, we just change it to make it less obviously wrong).

I bought an office chair today and it is leather and executivey. I have spent the day twirling, taking my glasses off decisively and pretending my CD player is an intercom to my imaginary secretary. Tomorrow I am going to turn up to work in a suit and mutter to my housemate, CP, about how traffic was a bitch and I want those figures in my inbox by 3. The effect will only be bruised a little bit by the fact that my office is right next to my bedroom and CP will inevitably be in a dressing gown and slippers.

CP refused to pay me €100 to grow a beard until Christmas this morning. He is a scabby bastard who doesn’t know a good deal when he sees one. He is the porno spam of dealing. I am a full time Christian. If I had a big Jesus beard the jokes he could have on demand non-stop everyday would be worth far more than 100 yo-yos, as the kids say these days.

There is very little cooler to me than Michael Stipe playing harmonica. Maybe that is why I was 17 before I had a girlfriend. There is very little coolness about the new R.E.M. album though. Remember the wave of regret we talked about in that Sartre illustration? I felt that when I heard Q-Tip pipe up at the end of that third track. In fairness, R.E.M. built their reputation and their relationship with me, by being a band that always did something different, pushed barriers, tried to progress. And they have achieved a totally new thing for them with this CD: irrelevance.

On that exaggeration I am off to help my wife match socks, if you get my meaning.

My meaning is that she actually is matching socks. Who ever said that married life lacked excitement?

Your Correspondent, Is Caught In A Legend