Thursday, August 28, 2008

she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

I witnessed the dead rise today, but it was short-lived.

My ipod has been broken for several months... it happened unexpectedly, and for no apparent reason. When it happened, I couldn't understand why. I had taken such good care of her (the thought crossed my mind that she just couldn't handle the weight of so much awesomeness, and decided to take her own life out of shame and feelings of inadequacy). Despite my desperate cries and attempts to revive her, no tunes arose from the beating of her chest (click-wheel), or mouth-to-mouth with her USBport, so with heavy boots I gently placed her in a wooden box beside my desk.

Well, today I opened that box, and saw her, and decided to give an old love a second chance. I plugged her in, at first seeing only the familiar signs - a spinning wheel saying very low battery, followed by a frozen screen - but some glimmer of hope arose in my spirit and I tried one last time at resuscitation. And I don't know whether it was the cool melody of Cat Stevens playing through the nearby speakers, or the sunshine falling just right through the blinds, or the position of the cosmos, but my heart froze as I saw the wonderful spectacle of a flashing DO NOT DISCONNECT sign.

My love came back to me.

And it couldn't have been better timing, because at approximately 7:00pm a loud crack extended through my apartment complex and the image on the television screen abruptly shot to black, and the hum of the AC was replaced by silence. A telephone pole had exploded or something... I don't know, but I was alone, and the sun was setting, and had no power. So after it got too dark to read, I took out my beloved ipod, and sat there in solitude listening to her, and felt immense comfort. She filled my ears and heart and soul until I was completely surrounded by darkness.

And then something horrible happened.

I had to use the bathroom, but by this time (approx. 9pm) it was completely dark, so I took her in with me, and used her as a sort of flashlight. As I lifted up the toilet seat (because having had four sisters I have been conditioned to put it down after every use) something happened: my fingers faltered, my muscles refused to respond quickly enough, she slipped, I flailed, I screamed, she fell. There was a horrific sound of a splash as I saw - as if frozen in time - her beautiful, illuminated being submerged in water. Had it been a foreign bathroom my reaction might not have been so immediate, but as it was I reached right in and pulled her out, wrapping her in a towel and yelling no, no, NO!

I quickly dried her off and returned the headphone plug, and enjoyed about 30 seconds of beauty before she started faltering. Cracks and static came rushing in like high-tide, and then nothing.

The power has come back on now, but no sign of life radiates from my beloved friend. Six months of grieving, only to be taunted by a few hours of her presence... what a cruel joke.
I am - at least slightly - comforted by the fact that she went out in style... her swan song: Jeff Buckley's Lover, You Should've Come Over. (I don't know if you've ever listened to Jeff Buckley Live at SinE in darkness and solitude - preferably while driving - but you should, you really should.)

So this is my ipod's obituary:
She was faithful, she was filled with greatness, and these were her last words:



2 comments:

catherineamendola said...

my ipod is fine.

ally said...

if you give momentarily drowned electronics five to seven days to dry out -- this means you don't touch them at all!!! -- there's usually still a chance at resuscitation. that's been my experience, at least