I can't see

Image by ohmann alianne via Flickr

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there's someplace that he'd rather be
He says, Bill, I believe this is killing me.
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place
From: The Piano Man by Billy Joel

Billy Joel sees what I can't. I've lived forty years inside my head, a landscape with which I am all too familiar. It is possible to bring the world into focus, but it's the exception and not the rule. When I encounter another I routinely avert my eyes lest he should volley a pleasantry for which I have no reply. I don't look at people. I feel them. I get a beat on their intentions by osmosis. I don't see them.

I am a coward.

Since I can not remember and describe that which I can not see I will duct tape my eyelids to my brows. When I walk past people I will look them square in the eye and elevate the corner of my mouth just so. I will perform the quick chin jerk that is the universal signal of acknowledgement in the land of men. I will practice the eyebrow lift, nod and audible release of breath followed by sheepish grin commonly offered to women with small children.

Is this seeing? I have a feeling it isn't enough. How can I exercise my vision without inspiring shudders of discomfort in the subjects of my consideration? Only creepy people stare.

Perhaps it's better to start small. I shall position my children in various places about the house and observe them and jot down what comes to mind.

It hurts my head to think about this. I'm not sure I can do this. I tried once and my efforts resulted in a page of prose worthy of submission to The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Is doing something very badly better than doing it passably? Is there a flip side to that joker?

I'll do it. I'll write what I see with no thought to the nausea it inspires. Shortly thereafter I will summon my old friend edit. Edit's cup overfloweth with forgiveness and second chances. After all, I can't do it alone.