There is something terribly noble about a life spent reclined on the cushion of philosophy. To sit back, to fold arms behind head, and think. That is the ultimate cool. Let me take you on a brief thinking tour:
First stop: my ipod touch. There it sits, beside me, next to the frothy coffee (who's every bubble is like a miniature universe), there it sits, catching the gilded rays of the sun on its black curves, blinking away, and next to it, the Voyager and next to that my battered and bruised copy of (yes you've guessed it) Paradise Lost. We've discussed PL in a previous post so won't talk about it here. The ipod touch has a memory capacity of 64GB. Of which 40GB is currently free. Let me put this into perspective. I have currently on it: 300 music albums (from Joy division to the Pixies and somewhere in the middle a bit of commercial pop), the entire Oxford English Dictionary, books downloaded for free from 'Project Gutenberg', numerous Pod casts, a collection of Audio Books from Bill Bryson to Blackadder. I have on it an A to Z of London - so that I don't get lost, a Tube Map with updates, the many learned quotes of 'Seneca', an application that tells me the weather, the latest news, another that allows me to check emails, my Paypal account balance, my Amazon account. I have a program that tells me the latest cinema releases with reviews and where showing. Another called 'Ambiance' that allows me to listen to the sound of raindrops, thunder storms in the Peruvian desert or the calming swash and froth of lapping waves on a Caribbean beach - useful for escape and relaxation when the walls threaten to swallow thee in surburbia. I can explore far away galaxies and Pizza Express at the same time. I can take eNotes of my thoughts for later use, or while away a good hour exploring the London Underground map. I can memorise cool Latin phrases. A caelo usque ad centrum and wonder. The world ad arbitrium. In digitalis...
Why am I telling you all this? I am telling you this because I want you to be amazed (as I am) how it is possible that we have reached a point of advancement where this and more can be squashed into a device that fits comfortably in your back pocket. Wired - Connected - Mainframed - Digitised, my fingers on the pulse of humanity.
I was first introduced to the possibilities of such fantastic devices many years back whilst reading Douglas Adam's 'The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy'. In the book, the device of the same name was an electronic portable computer that contained everything an intrepid galactic hitchhiker would need to know in order to see the marvels of the known universe. If Douglas was alive today he would no doubt be as happy as a pomegranate full of pips. It was Douglas who had the biggest impact on my young adolescent brain. The virus of his initial infection still casts a happy and translucent hue on the way my brain views the world. It would be an understatement to say that I have a Douglasesque colourscape. Douglas wrote a hilarious piece once (well he wrote many). I will repeat it here for your enjoyment. I quote word for word (well almost):
'Imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, 'This is an interesting world I find myself in, an interesting hole I find myself in, fits me rather neatly, doesn't it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!' This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle gets smaller and smaller, it's still frantically hanging on to the notion that everything's going to be alright, because this world was meant to have him in it, was built to have him in it; so the moment he disappears catches him rather by surprise. I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for'
What is it about? Well, many things. Foremost it's a subtle criticism of our homocentric view of the universe. We humans find ourselves in a world that seems to fit us perfectly. So perfectly that it seems to have been built especially for us. Just like the hole the puddle finds itself in. But that is a fallacy. What Douglas did was to turn the analogy on its head and give our homocentric world picture a good shake up. There's nothing like a little dose of Douglas to do that. Give us a good shake up.
Moving on. The 2nd thought that has randomly crept into my thought sphere is Me. My favourite subject! So self conscious me! I have oft been described by my friends; usually after an evenings merrymaking, as someone who lives on the 'other' side of normal. The 'other' being a loving term used to describe a place far away from 'here'. 'Here' being an everyday existence spent in the thrall of such mundane activities as gravity, the X-Factor, gas bills, filling up the car with petrol and the occasional foray into existential musings. Let me be clear. This is not a life I am familiar with. I am as familiar with this life as a Hedgehog is familiar with the works of William Shakespeare. A life followed by the majority of the somnambulating denizens of earth. I, as already pointed out above, live elsewhere - coming down for air now and again (and I use the word down deliberately!). Like the fabled Leviathan monster of the ocean deep the Blue Whale, who spends most of its time beneath the waves, occasionally venturing or deigning to come up to the surface for a gulp of air. I too must come up for my gulp, but then I must quickly dive back down again into the cushioned depths below! The deep dark tea time of my soul. But then life is more fun on this side don't you think? The sun shines so much prettier here. The birds so much less noisesome. Love gilded with gold and silver. Smiles free to flutter in a crystal heart. The problem with everyday life is that it can get rather tedious at times. Even the most sensual and exciting of things can, after repeated revisits, become tepid and ordinary. Which is why ti's important to impart existence with a little variety and gaiety. Human beings are creatures of habit but they also, at the same time, get easily bored. What to do?! What to do?!
Life should be lived in a state of deranged fascination. There is much to see and hear and feel and think in the world. Only the other day I caught some sun beams on the top deck of the bus. Yes I caught them. They were meant for me. So said faith in my ear. They had emerged through a gap in the grey clouds, after a lengthy journey through space of many millions of miles. They had passed through the atmosphere, and before reaching me, on the top deck of the bus, listening and bobbing to a beat from 'The Strokes, they had to pass through a patchwork of leaves, which gave them a soft twinkling light. A soft light that made me smile and vindicated the beauty and possibilities of existence. Moments. All moments. You must catch them. What do I remember of my trek through Lao's northern jungles? Moments. Details are lost. But moments I remember. Life is all moments. When Cadbury's marketing executives sat around a round table brain-storming possible names for their new product, it was no accident that they stumbled upon the following:
Now the 3rd and final topic of today's magical thought tour. And this will be shamelessly dipsy: Starbucks. Or rather the Starbuckscard. Did you know that if you get a Starbuckscard, and top it up, and use it to buy coffee, that's not all you'll get. Oh no, the card allows you free Internet access in any Starbucks in the world. Now, I'm not known for being a corporate slave especially psychotic multinational corporations; I'm just talking about the simple fact that you can get free Wi-Fi access for the price of, well for the price of a coffee. Not bad coffee. I've had better, but it has caffeine and one can blog till one's heart bleeds and fingers hurt.
On that note tis time to end here. I have a tendency, as you may well know, of going on a little bit. I just can't stop! I just want to keep on scribbling (or in today's age) keep on tapping. Consider this blog entry for example. It just won't stop! When will it stop? Will it ever stop? I don't want it to end here. I have so much to say. Like how wonderful I think it is that when you sit on the bus you have an African to your left, a Chinaman to your right and opposite an Albanian women with whiskers and a gaunt parcel on her lap. That you can hear many conversations. This babel of languages travelling through the bus, smothered in rhyming lilting slang and gypsy tones:
'Someone tried to pull him off innit. Yeah off his bike man. Last night. That's what he say's though'
'How's the hood?'
'Hoods fine man. You coming round?'
A little boy plays with his toy. His mother on the phone in a different and more grown up world:
'Why she say that about me and Kevin? Why she get involved? It's getting on my nerves and the way she's jacking us. I don't know...'
Listening to these conversation it seems to me that people exist on totally alien planets. Worlds I have no idea or conception off. There's the inner city world of young black youth. The world of the Polish migrants. The world of the East End Asian diaspora. Like the bubbles in a cappuccino froth, each is totally self-enclosed, yet living side by side. The group of young Chinese students speak in machine gun Mandarin. The Bangladeshi man sitting to the left is staring out of the window. Shrouded in his bedraggled beard and white skull cap. What's he thinking? What thoughts passing through his mind? What's troubling him? For something is always troubling people. We live in a global world. One hundred years ago this scene on the bus would have seemed impossible. Languages, cultures, foods, smells, clothes are all today asked to share the same space. To make room. In a city. A road. A house. A bus. The amazing thing is that they manage to get along. Making room for each other. Making allowances for each others differences. Labelling them as harmless eccentricities. We are a tolerant species most of the time. The thought brings a smile. A smile that wants to hug everybody and everything. Tomorrow who knows, but right now, I'm glad to be human. Well, almost.
Goodbye. Trust this finds you in a state of perplexity and leaves you in a state of perspicacity.
-THE END-
