From the Haze
Writing has been slow in coming the last few weeks due to travel and my inability to see. After the Last American Road Trip surf experience I recalled my promise of the last eight years to keep researching lasik until I was comfortable with the technique. Sitting out beyond the break was the turning point. I could just make out the swells as they formed and it was hard to not only read the incoming waves, but to truly embrace the ocean that was so much an essential part of the beauty of the experience. I came back on a mission.
I’ve always had a list of reasons for the procedure, the primary being the ability to survive in remote regions of foreign countries where I don’t speak the language and might suddenly be blind. Teddy Roosevelt rode into battle with the rough riders and twelve pairs of extra glasses for essentially the same reason. This also lead to my choosing a form of lasik called epilasik that involves regrowing a new cornea. This should help some with long term integrity, essential to someone as prone to nutty environments and weird stunts. (As it turns out, I already regrew a part of my cornea years ago when a flying wood chip got under my glasses.) The downside to epilasik is that the healing time is longer and so I’m only now able to start computing again using high contrast super zoom.
In an effort to get out of the house after a long weekend of recovery, I threw on some dark shades and headed out to slam poetry night last night. The theory went that while I couldn’t see, I could still hear. As my life would have it, it was decathlon night and so despite not having a poem to read I was easily goaded into joining the melee. There were plenty of events like competitive eating, sock puppets and a dance off that I could get in on. The next thing I knew I was miming poetry for a group piece, leaping off of monitors, thrashing and crawling along the floor with an air guitar, and gyrating wildly though an improvised, synchronized dance routine. None of this fit into my recovery plan and I recall all of it through the dark, soft haze of my vision at the time.
Despite being driven to such madness the weekend wasn’t so terrible. It was filled with visits and long talks with good friends. I practiced guitar more thoroughly than I have in a long time. I listened to a lot of This American Life and ate a lot of tubular food: vegan wraps brought from Wheatsville by my generous housemates. Most importantly, I experienced something breathtaking: I looked at myself for the first time in my life without manmade lenses. There was nothing artificial between me and myself. It was incredible. I just stood in my own gaze for a long time. I have the most beautiful blue eyes.
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