elegy for a non-mac user
When I graduated from college, I sold my Mac Classic to a friend for almost nothing. I had written my senior thesis on that machine. The thesis had been a source of much anguish to undergrad me. But I don’t remember associating those negative emotions with the computer. Or any emotions. Which is a little strange to contemplate - now that Macs and i-anything are all about feelings.
My friend was a year ahead of me, but was staying on at the university to finish a masters degree. Everything was sunshine and promise.
—-
The last time he called, he was in a psychiatric facility receiving electroconvulsive therapy for profound, debilitating depression. ECT is supposed to be all safe and modernnow (cf. Bell Jar). Safe and modern as far as last resorts go.
I asked him what it feels like. He didn’t really say - just that it ate at his memory, made him forget things. He had been there three weeks. He was still suicidal.
—-
“It cannot always be night.” Sometimes it is in spite of what we wish.
—-
I’ve decided not to call in case you’re not there to answer. I’ll pretend you’re gone so I don’t have to find out.
—-
He had a cell phone (not smart, not i). He did not text. He used the computers at the public library. Once he ran up a huge bill at Kinko’s flaming Ivy League-obsessed parents on College Confidential. That was probably on a PC.
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* Most recently revised Oct 20 9:28pm. I will always be working on this one.
