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Isolation Insanity
July 3rd, 2009A dentist – who in the future will surely occupy a lower ring of hell – prescribed for me temporary medications that require avoiding alcohol for two weeks. Three weeks back a bone doctor slapped a leg cast around my fractured fib and thus I’m forced to stay in at night. And the Devil is keeping me celibate (well, gotta blame it on somebody). Isolated, sober and hard up.
No wonder monks act so odd. Pleasure deprivation warps a mind.
Incidentally, and for purely promotional purposes, I’ll mention in passing that depravation is an underlying theme in my book AFTERLIFE. My theory and subplot is that ghosts, having lost most of their temporal sense and being forcefully disconnected from their loved ones, are bored and in large part isolated (they do have the company of other ghosts, but ghosts are notoriously bad company and only exacerbate the protagonists postmortem predicaments). This is part of the reason so many spooks seem insane – because they are, having gone madder than monks.
With my social life on hold, I have had way too much opportunity to think and tink with technology, and now I wonder if modern information tech fosters, restricts or puts human interaction in silos? Accidental interaction is if nothing else, exciting. Not always pleasant, but often engaging. To quote myself – a sure sign of growing, isolation-induced insanity – “The unexpected is the essence of adventure.” Getting mugged might be disagreeable, but it certainly livens your day.
Take television – please. Thanks to digital roll-out of this particular dementia, the local cable company – which is operated by Somali pirates – sent a letter telling me how to acquire the necessary gear. I ordered it online, it was delivered to my doorstep without a knock, I installed it myself and activated it with a phone call though a computer voice prompted system. I implemented a whole suite of new technology without once speaking to or seeing a person.
The World Weird Web has that effect daily. We can absorb the full scope of inhumanity from the comfort of our couch. Want human humor? Drop by YouTube and see what’s funny. Want human lust? You’ll trip over it with a misguided Google search. Want human stupidity? C-SPAN streams congressional floor votes.
Want humans and humanity? Technology erects filters against that.
When technology is not preventing Homo sapiens pack animals from communing, it is cutting the herd into isolated groups. Facebook gives us tools for keeping abreast of the meaningless moments in the lives of friends and family … and nobody else. MeetUp let’s us meet new people, but only people we want to meet. Much of our online activity is destined to isolate us from the infinity of individuals.
Randomness has been removed, and to our detriment. Have a look at page four of AFTERLIFE. The art there is the handiwork of Mister David Preston (who the brave can locate at Dammit Jim Productions). I met David by chance at a coffee shop and have since developed a fond friendship. I write songs for his movies and he tosses art work into my books.
And we are so different we would never have met through the inhuman human hunting ground that is the Internet.
Thankfully there are still people who make humanity their way of life. My college buddy Steve is also a southern boy, hailing from Mississippi, though I suspect he has more Cajun the Mud Puppy in him. One day we wandered through a crafts fair in Richmond, Virginia, stopping to admire a display of rather crafty wares. We chatted with the creative old timer who was so southern his drawl would be unintelligible to Englishmen. After forty five minutes we knew about him, his cousin Betty and her bursitis, how his daddy fought in the Big War, and when his heifer was due to calf. He knew me and Steve to about the same depth.
As we walked away, Steve said “You know, Yankees would never understand taking the time.”
Or taking the opportunity.
‘Getting mugged might be disagreeable, but it certainly livens your day.’
That does sound like ‘growing, isolation-induced insanity’.
I know what you mean about technology though, my local library has recently installed a machine that I can use to withdraw my books, just incase I should get the crazy idea of chatting to the librarian, who is basically in there on her own all day anyway.
After 6 long years of having my ear constantly bent by two young children, the idea of having several weeks of solitude seems like manna from heaven.
But I’ve probably already done more than my fair share of sojourns into insanity.
I did come across a rather dark poem about lonliness though –
Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly.
let it cut more deep.
Let it ferment and season you
as few human or even divine ingredients can.
Something missing in my heart tonight
has made my eyes so soft
my voice so tender
my need of god
absolutely clear.
–Hafiz
I have always thought that my happiest moments have always been when I’ve been alone, and I think the essence of the world is the same as my own essence so I am never alone.
Looking on the bright side, I’m sure that first drink after 2 weeks will taste extra sweet, not to mention whatever other pleasures may lay ahead.
Amen to that first drink. I’m not sure it it is sacrilege to treat whiskey as a sacrament, but that initial tipple will be consumed ceremonially.
To think it might be sacrilege to treat something as a sacrament itself seems sacrilegious. I suppose the main thing is that you don’t consume it sitting in the gutter.