Wednesday, February 26, 2014

'as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on the screen'

Failing again the other day,
to read my telephone screen
in the sunshine, either with
polarizing lenses or bare-
back, as it were, should I
have resolved then and there
to investigate an app that
would go on recite to me on
call, such content as I may
care to entertain, selected
from the heaps of inputs to
which we're all subjected?

But it would take fuh-evah
to educate an app in all my
preferences; and possibly,
if there's anything worse
than being nannied, it's
being nannied without be-
ing known. Again, however,
if one were to think about
it, a nanny app to read to
me from my nanny device,
could only carry diminish-
ment to diminishing returns,
which I happen to think, ar-
rived 'long about the same
time as the Touch Screen,
and the enthralling dance
of Cover Flow. Where would
go, unlikelihood?

I ran into a fellow who
struck me as conversant in
devices in the sunshine,
but this was no confidant. 
What peach would read his
Prufrock as incompetent?
How assume the spirit our
devices so distrust? A
most disarming greeting,
yet not a feeble posture,
the genuine condition?

T.S. Eliot
  of  J. Alfred Prufrock

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