through the fish-eyed lens of dilated pupils, i can barely define the shape of this screen or the keys on which i type these magnificent words.
i went to the retinal specialist today. he seemed a little skeptical of my concerns (based on my age), but on seeing the pictures he admitted, there is unquestionable damage to the macula in both eyes, but the damage could have been caused by sun exposure or other trauma, and is not necessarily symptomatic of a degenerative condition.
this, of course, i already knew. this is essentially starting the process over, since the previous doctor claimed he lost all my pictures. the pictures are a pain in the ass to produce, and i could barely understand most of what that doctor was saying. this doctor exudes every confidence, even if he talked kinda fast and didn’t listen to anything i said.
the dilation is not as bad as past dilations. those made sunlight feel like daggers in my head, and this had the same effect, just not as dramatic.
so, in 6 months, we’ll do it all again, and see what progress might have occurred. if none, i’ll probably stop this hopefully useless charade, and go blindthrough traditional behaviours of staring into computer screens, masturbation, and reading piano music too close to my face.
…..
sitting at a place, all the windows and doors opened, the rumble of the overhead subway rustles by in the near distance.
my mind keeps rustling back to a woman i saw in midtown this week. gawky and beautiful, she crossed the streets like she was marching in a parade, twirling batons and shaking pom poms. she had no baton or pom poms but her gait was that of a performer, of someone on whom all eyes laid.
i thought of the communication people make, the signals we send when crossing the street. i cross a street and see a car racing toward me, from safely far away but moving fast enough that a reflex reaction is appropriate. i scurry quickly across the street, not because the car poses a particular danger to me but because i want to communicate to the driver that i see the vehicle coming, and to have no fear that i will linger in the street.
it’s a bit like a game of chess, in which a Bishop lined up to take the Queen from clear across the board is moved most of that way across the board so as to “reinforce the threat”. the effectiveness of the bishop’s position changes naught whether it is 6 squares away or 1. yet a certain breed of chess player will execute a useless flourish of moving the bishop closer to the queen, not to increase the threat but simply to “reinforce” in the mind of the opposing player the distraction of doom which faces the queen.
similarly useless gestures haunt the streets and sidewalks. i saw a speeding vehicle heading my way and i scurried across the street not because the little sprint would save my life or ameliorate whatever threat the distant-but-scarily-approaching vehicle might have posed. i picked up the pace, demonstratively, to communicate to the driver of the approaching vehicle that any concerns s/he might have as to my safety were negligible, because i see you, and if you see me then we all see each other and we communicate in these elemental ways.
the woman in the invisible parade may have bene communicating something of substance to someone in the urban tundra of intertwined vehicular and pedestrian traffic, but it seemed like self dancing.
…..
aha, the sociology of crossing the street. a ripe and ready field for research.
