Today I devised a character which works in an Harrry Eng like factory where he has specialized in putting large objects into bottles. Every now and then, somebody comes along and asks him to put an even larger object than the last, inside a bottle. I am that character. I am the bottle.
This year's love is strange, uncertain. Gesture based. We come from the same continent and we don't speak, but we have flirted.
(...)
The other side of Fjord is occupied by a company which specializes in mobile and desktop flirting. I have to admit, that I cannot flirt with the tool they've devised. I am a physical being and I miss the nuances that physical flirting entails. You know, when you play with words and schedules and you smile with your stomach.
Flirting is not frontal, but slightly diagonal. To flirt is to engage in a set of replies not really prompted by any question. Ultimately, to flirt is to tell the truth. No love, just need.
Desire can walk on skin and jump from mobile to mobile. But the flirt perishes under electronic precision. When we flirt we draw our breath in public and we educate our gesture. No tool but ones body can empower us to do so. And as marketers and engineers devise new social lubricants, [to get as much in as out of the bottle] I watch from across the room and wonder about the average duration of a flirt in an object oriented manner. And most importantly, can we flirt forever or will we grow tired after a while.
(...)
I want to put a couple of gazes we've exchanged in a bottle. But they've grown before me and it's by no means easier now. In the many years, working in this factory, I know of many tricks to get objects inside the bottle. But mostly they can be summed up to two, depending on the nature of the object:
The first is squeezing, if the latter is of a soft and malleable making. I sit on it, embrace it, hug it tightly, wrap it... Altogether an emotional and highly physical process.
The second option, devised for more complex and mechanically inclined objects, is to pull them apart, pice by piece and then with specials pliers reassemble it inside the bottle. Piece by piece. A job lacking in emotion but transpiring in patience. Today I was brought a large object by a gorgeous woman, just before closing time. I took it home.
Now, I am staring at it sitting on my terrace. It's cold out here. Can I hug it into the bottle? Must I fragment it and take my time with the pliers? I still don't know what kind of an object it is. All I know is that it really want to get it into the bottle.
(...)
The other side of Fjord is occupied by a company which specializes in mobile and desktop flirting. I have to admit, that I cannot flirt with the tool they've devised. I am a physical being and I miss the nuances that physical flirting entails. You know, when you play with words and schedules and you smile with your stomach.
Flirting is not frontal, but slightly diagonal. To flirt is to engage in a set of replies not really prompted by any question. Ultimately, to flirt is to tell the truth. No love, just need.
Desire can walk on skin and jump from mobile to mobile. But the flirt perishes under electronic precision. When we flirt we draw our breath in public and we educate our gesture. No tool but ones body can empower us to do so. And as marketers and engineers devise new social lubricants, [to get as much in as out of the bottle] I watch from across the room and wonder about the average duration of a flirt in an object oriented manner. And most importantly, can we flirt forever or will we grow tired after a while.
(...)
I want to put a couple of gazes we've exchanged in a bottle. But they've grown before me and it's by no means easier now. In the many years, working in this factory, I know of many tricks to get objects inside the bottle. But mostly they can be summed up to two, depending on the nature of the object:
The first is squeezing, if the latter is of a soft and malleable making. I sit on it, embrace it, hug it tightly, wrap it... Altogether an emotional and highly physical process.
The second option, devised for more complex and mechanically inclined objects, is to pull them apart, pice by piece and then with specials pliers reassemble it inside the bottle. Piece by piece. A job lacking in emotion but transpiring in patience. Today I was brought a large object by a gorgeous woman, just before closing time. I took it home.
Now, I am staring at it sitting on my terrace. It's cold out here. Can I hug it into the bottle? Must I fragment it and take my time with the pliers? I still don't know what kind of an object it is. All I know is that it really want to get it into the bottle.