Bradbury 5v model Grostundian Unit

 3.  Experiment with the uncanny. Pick an object or even a person in the room and describe them in a short paragraph. Then describe it again. And again. And again. Describe this same object or person 10 times. How does your last paragraph compare with your first? Do you see a progression in your descriptions? Does the object seem more or less familiar to you now?

 

 

 

It lights a small corner of the kitchen. Very little light. Open, it contains the world. But it is a world of little value to him now. He wishes to be an artist (ha!) and the light emitter is merely a tool. An unimportant tool. Other tools could work. The important tool is he but he is unimportant. 

 

The laptop stares back at him, talks to him. But doesn’t say much. But it beckons, without words it beckons. It is tapped, and tapped, and tapped. Some good comes from this tapping, a salary earned. But art? His art? 

 

It is black. Fitting. It is in the dark, before 5 A.M. most mornings. Then, light, to see with, to look at. Words, tapped out, ideas forming, stories brewing, art creating and created. A black sleek tool of electricity and circuits and processors but no more than a blunt instrument; a hammer and anvil of a different sort. The person matters, not the tool.

 

It has, of all things, a space bar. It is the biggest key. The largest key. The most used? A space bar without a drink. A space bar without aliens. A space bar without some ET on a futuristic instrument. A space bar that can’t get you tipsy or drunk or feelin’ it. A space bar without a staff or a band, even a shitty one doing their shitty original songs. The space bar isn’t even in space. What the fuck. It’s right here, space space space, only showing itself where it isn’t. THAT is cool. Even without a beer or a shot or a mixed drink or a purple Geeelshejune from the Mixtolendian realm, who just came in on a Bradbury 5v model Grostundian Unit from the 3060’s, it’s cool.