“I am the warm little centre that the life of the universe crowds around”
 – Chuck Palahniuk
Fight Club
This is fantastic! Why did nobody tell me?!
Technology delivers on paradise promise.
Early adopter I am not. If not Luddite, suspicious and nostalgic. Wary eyes in undergrowth. Let others eat the berries. No need iron, still have plenty stones . . .
Have a laptop these days. Mobile phone (Nokia 5110) inserted in typewriter wouldn’t connect to interweb. Made typing hard.
Have smart phone too now. Smarter than me. Nokia second hand. Nicely three years ago.
Touch screen no. But . . .
iPod!
iPod iPod! iPod! (Microsoft spell-check recognises not)
Used to have walkman. Discman. Clunky. Junky. Battery eating unwieldy drop and break it chew cassettes and scratch CDs. Bleh. Leave at home.
Left at mercy of world. Had to pay attention.
iPod. Fits right in pocket. Own little world next to house keys. Music best injected straight in head and mixed in brain. Outside a vague hum between tracks. Everything bliss.
Street life glides by a mime removed.
What’s that, man at bus stop, whisper lips and charades? You like to kiss your fingertips? Oh, you’d like me to kiss your fingertips? No, thank you. I’ll just walk over here and finish my cigarette.
Yes, woman outside train station, that is a nice palm. You should be proud of it. I’ll be here again tomorrow. Maybe you can show me the other one . . .
Supermarket scrum. All out of courtesy, so everyone wants that last mango. Escalator dominoes. Sonically beta-blocked flat line bp. A sweet smile and fuck off outta my way. Machine gun Zen.
Phone rings out in pocket vacuum.
Autistic Valhalla.
Untouchable.
Uh-oh, bus.




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