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  • Touch Orientation...

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        Sunday, May 04, 2008

    Touch Orientation...

    I don't remember if I have touched on this before, or not, but even if, I think it is important enough to bear repeating. I don't even remember when I started doing it. It is so much a part of me, that it seems like I've done it forever.

    One time, a long time ago, I got to wondering what it would be like to be blind. So I blinded myself, and lived for at least a week in my own place, as a blind man would. What a trip.
    Try feeding yourself. Taking a shit. Showering. Dressing. Opening a damn beer bottle. What room are you in? Who's that at the door? Where's the fucking phone? Fucker is ringing.

    Boy, being blind will sure open your eyes.

    Well, not really, but all those other senses most of you just let lie fallow, jump out like you would not believe. Smells, sounds, your very skin vibrates like a low tone tuning fork. Like a cat, you know someone is at your door before the knock. And blindo sex kicks ass. There's a reason those fuckers in the dark glasses sit there rocking slightly back and forth, smiling.

    And touch. You appreciate your fingertips for perhaps the first time in your life. You begin to actually realize textures. 'I am in the hallway, because the paint feels like this...' 'Here is the bedroom...I know because the paint is worn on the doorjamb from rings over the years...the bed is...yes, right here...hmmm, sheets need to be washed...need to call the girlfriend...tang of steel and oil and brass, there's my pistol...a squeak in the floorbord...that always means the loose board in the hallway, by the entry door, and in three seconds...yes, there is the next squeak, which means a person of weight, either a good-sized man, or some fat chick I've pissed off just stepped in front of the bathroom door and is about six feet away from my bedroom door in a hallway I have measured with my fingertips and shoulders many times and...'

    You spin and fire the gun empty. And listen for the thud. And maybe some gurgling. While you reload. Repeat as necessary.

    The wife has noted what I do, and is beginning to copy me. I rise from the couch, and take stock of my surroundings with my fingertips. It may look like I am supporting myself, but I want to know where obstacles like ottomans and such are should I need to wend my way back in total, sudden darkness.

    I enter a close room, and place the back of my hand against the wall, and 'pull' myself on in. The kids have trained me well. Greater pain hath no man than to step barefoot on a Lego block in the middle of the night whilst going to take a piss.

    So sweep your feet, and shuffle forward. Some of us have been trained in the detection of tripwires. That has been a useful skill to retain in the real world. Just imagine, being in a dark tunnel, where black tripwires are hooked up to devices that are designed to blow you to mush. Well, I don't see a whole lot of scampering about in your future. If you want to continue to have one.

    So, long story short, when you take stock of your surroundings, take stock of your surroundings. See them. Smell them. Taste them.

    Feel them.