Thursday, February 11, 2010

It's so quiet here in these hours of the night.

So desolate.

So lonely.

I raise my left wrist to my ear.

I listen to the gears of the mechanical movement clinking together, clicking into place over and over and over again, none of them ever realizing the amazing mechanism that they power. Never becoming aware of their own supreme significance to the overall whole. Never once coming to realize that in working together, they form a device that both ruins and breathes profound meaning and order into my life, simultaneously.

I carefully listen to the gears, turning, locking into place. I hear the sound of the spring wind a bit as the weight in the watch pivots down heavily towards the earth. I imagine the mechanism in slow motion, carefully picking out examples of mechanics in each minute nuance of the monstrous machine that is my wristwatch.

I focus on the ticking.





*Tick tick tick*


A car drives past on the road outside.

I panic.

I am ripped violently from my concentration. As I hear the unseen vehicle's front right tire hit a pot hole in the road, my mind is bombarded by slow motion interpretations of the car's suspension sinking under the weight of the impact. Visions emerge of the deformation of the tire upon hitting the jagged asphalt. The vehicle was heavy. It had to have been. The "thu-thunk" of the tire passing over the imperfection was too distinct, too profound to have come from a light vehicle. The rubber bends in my mind, animated force vectors and pressure fields superimposing themselves on the image, meaningless numbers emerging from everywhere. The tire snaps back to normal upon leaving the pothole, the suspension equalizes, and the driver settles back into place as the image speeds up and the car is gone, just as suddenly as it invaded my thoughts.

Quiet for a few moments. I wait in sickening suspense, hoping desperately for just a few seconds to be spared from thought. To focus on nothing.

God, what a feeling it must be.

*Thu-thunk, Thu-thunk*

No! Both tires this time!

Another onslaught of analytical images flashes uncontrollably behind my eyes. My body lies still in hopeless surrender to the nonsense in my head. I consider closing my eyes and praying for sleep.

But no matter.

The eyes have always been the weakest asset in the dark of night.

1 comment:

  1. I love clocks, and watches. So complex, only to do something simple. And's not.