hell 6: morning rites
My wife claims that she can tell my mood and general stance by what she finds me doing when she comes down to the kitchen in the morning. If I am reading the newspaper, that is one sort of thing. If I am typing into a blog window, that is another sort of thing.
The other day she said I miss you and the newspapers, you with all of the newspapers in the morning.
Was it Hobsbawm who claimed that the morning paper was the modern man’s version of daily prayer? When I am happy and invested in the world outside, my mornings are a full church-service of engaged attention in the human. Otherwise, it is something closer to a black mass of interactivity.
Hell definitely isn’t other people, but it probably has something to do with compulsive issueless work and nonsynchronous communication.