What thoughts dare I pour onto these pink pages today, as I wait for the train to push off, barely able to see through my fashionable yet non-prescription (and thus non-functional) shades?
I like the idea of being unable to discern the mammalian shapes of my commuter counterparts. When I can’t see, I can’t judge anyone by the shape of their host containers.
And, since I can’t even see the words on this page very well, I’m less concerned about my words being a vehicle for peripheral public entertainment.
I also think it’s more relaxing when I can’t see sometimes, ‘cause then I’m less able to play the find-the-cutest-guy-on-the-train-car-and-stare-at-him-then-look-away game the whole trip.
And I’m less inclined to have my usual OK Corral-type staredowns with the people facing towards me - the ones where I focus my eyes just above the person’s head just to fuck with them, or where I hold disinterested-looking eye contact with them for extended periods of time to see if they avert their gaze.
Those eye-contact games don’t work as well when you ‘re not sure if you’re making eye contact or not.
I think not being able to see is better sometimes, because then you’re less inclined to believe. Putting yourself in touch with your unmodified, uncorrected vision can also illustrate the deception of perception: how does this thing or person really look? It all depends on the instrument of observation, really.
Lack of eyesight can lead to insight.