I wish you had a bluetooth heart
|Abigail Reynolds @Guernica/|
Merritt Tierce ponders the connections to those friends who live offline @ Pank.
K stands for Kavanagh and Kay, which are the respective first and last names of my only remaining offline friend or acquaintance. Even my grandmother, who gave birth to two children before the transistor was invented, has an AOL account. My aunt has to monitor my grandmother’s email because she is 85 and though she still walks—with a cane—and can float her Buick LeSabre down the street to church, as long as she never has to go in reverse, she does not have the spam awareness that is genetically encoded in younger wired people, who would know not to reply to that. K pays his bills with a stamp, and takes road trips he plans with a Rand McNally atlas from 1992, which he bought for a quarter at a garage sale in 1999.If I do not know where he is, I do not know where he is, and if he is with me, he is with me. This is why I love him. My other friends and I and the other people I know are transitioning to disembodied states. I mean that we are no longer located where our bodies can be found. I heard that an essay question they ask on the undergraduate application to Yale is Are you your body? K describes himself as a creature, with joy. I am a creature, he says, stretching, and then he says God damn that was some creaturely motion you had going. When he comes he curls into me and closes his eyes and makes a sound like the barest sound of wind over the top of a glass bottle. He never buys anything plastic. He buys only glass bottles and he keeps them, objets of a consumption history.read more