Tuesday, 6 March 2012

Macbook Pro

Some months of soul searching has led me to buy a Macbook Pro.


It’s sitting in my living room, looking beautiful, but the real issue with it is the belief that it brings with it.


The cries of, “it is great for creative work” “all designers use them”




“YOU WILL LOVE IT”






These people are correct, I do love it, but I am greatly concerned by the responsibility of owning such a thing.


I feel as if I have been gifted the Large Hadron Collider as a bizarre legacy form a long lost Uncle Hadron with a note on a brown packaging label that says, “Please find the God particle”


Well frankly Uncle Hadron I wouldn’t know what a God particle was if it sprinted round my brand new Collider and split my face open. Do God particles eat marmalade sandwiches per chance?


How do you even turn the thing on?


Where is Professor Brian Cox with his white teeth and shiny face?
Ah yes, of course, he is filming in the Atacama Desert; as usual. Drawing diagrams of the Higgs Boson in the sand – Understood.


I often find physics lends itself to writing in sand. It’s just so much easier to understand complex physics in sand writing. I wonder why that is?


“Right do we have a second in command I could go to?”


“No?”


“Well then who is this I’m speaking to?”


“Oh myself? Golly I was convincing”


This, it appears, I have to do alone. I have owned a laptop for a millennium, or perhaps since the millennium and I have often sat with my fingers hovering over the keys ready to pen/type the novel that runs around my head, running, running…pant, running, like a dog. I think it sleeps in that space behind my ear, I can feel it scratching in the night. There are other animals in there too. Animals that want to digitally colour drawings I have made or want to make, ferrets that want to use photoshop to create beautiful pictures of jewellery, a large panda that just wants to cruise the internet and look for mundane nonsense, a lion with a particular interest in setting up a on line emporium of beautiful things. My particular favourites are the field mice who scamper about thinking up blog posts which just fit into a single stream of consciousness and I often quarrel with the guinea pigs that tell me to go to work and earn a proper living. They breed so quickly and are extremely unyielding in their decision making


There is a feeling that if I could train them, circus style, I could be the P T Barnum of 2012, The Cirque du Soleil of Streatham Common – Instead the guinea pigs rule the roost at the moment. They do worry so and I can’t convince the others to fight them off just yet.