Bloggittens, I am seeing an increase in readers, which is creepy in this world of voyeurism. You can see me, but I can’t see you. I know, you say, “But you chose to dance in the window with your lights on in the belly shirt and hot pants/biker shorts.” True, but it’s ACTIVE WEAR for late middle agers, and I thought it helped accent my bloggy figure. Still, no matter how you slice the cheese, my untattooed butt is hanging out there for inspection, and I feel so, well, inspected.
I recall walking through the Fan District in Richmond, Virginia, where my wife and I met while in college. We would walk down streets adorned with restored homes, all had front rooms lit like art galleries for an anonymous pedestrian audience to admire. Lovely fall nights and all these living rooms were seemingly staged for our enjoyment. I never knocked on anyone’s door to say thanks for the free art/ interior design show. Now I think I should go back to Richmond, research the deeds to the late 1970’s and contact each homeowner so that I may thank him or her for the memories. It’s like that, I think.
Anonymous voyeurism is creepy. If the voyeur comes in and introduces him/herself, well that’s creepy too until relationship is established, shifts scheduled, and perks negotiated. For instance:
Party A, the creepy voyeur Ed, will peer into my living room on Monday evenings from 9-10:00 p.m. EST. He will use the lawn chair provided by the homeowner, Party B. Me. Should Ed need to use the bathroom or kitchen, he will knock on the side door, reserved for friends and family. He will be escorted to either room and allowed up to 10 minutes to do his business. If the living room is not lit, Ed is permitted one reminder phone call. In the summer months, Ed’s voyeur time will be moved back one hour to 10:00 p.m. DST to allow for proper illumination. Should either party move to terminate the relationship, ninety days prior notice is required. This agreement will automatically renew unless notice is given.
With a legal sounding agreement in place, Ed could work his way into a seat at the Thanksgiving meal or eventually participate in our Christmas gift exchange. All that verbage gives a guy a sense of control when actually there is no control, just a slim illusion of control. So, Ed, would you like to meet?
[Excuse me, my hamstrings are spasming. Ahhhh. Stretch and hold. Sitting at a computer monitor for hours contributes to physical devolution.]
Where was I? Yes, the illusion of control. Voyeurism. Ed. Sitting at computers for hours. And what results? Something like the early days of air travel, I suppose. People start zooming around the planet in hours, only now it’s fractions of seconds. The exotic becomes the familiar. Stuff swirls into fascinating combinations. The world shrinks again as the knowledge base explodes exponentially. And here we are, faceless to faceless. The complete opposite of the foreign exchange students we have housed over the years. They were total strangers who became part of our family for a year at a time. Nina, Yushi, and Kaisa. I’ll have to post on them in the future. Each has a few stories that live on long after they left. Relationships were developed at the dinner table, in the car, in the yard, on trips together. They were on the inside of our living room looking out in bold anti-voyeuristic glares.
Hey, it’s wet out there. The trash truck will be coming soon. No need to hide in the bushes. My wife makes an awesome gluten free chocolate cake, Ed. At Thanksgiving she makes this artichoke and creamed spinach dish that rocks….You’ll love it here.