Like all good San Franciscans, we spy on our neighbors. Well, spy may be a bit strong. But we are familiar with them. We have nicknames, even. The nicknames started when Harper hurt her back and was largely confined to bed for a year. The neighbors became like her TV show, there being no TV in the bedroom. She was living Rear Window. Complete with our own cast of characters: the couple, comic book store guy neighbor, the girl who is always at home, the big oaf, and, our favorite, the boy. The boy started off as a normal college-age boy. He played guitar. He drank beer with friends, and grilled on his porch. One night, he almost got into a fight with The Big Oaf outside on the sidewalk. (I broke this up, by yelling out the window. "Shut up!" I didn't really care about he noise at all, truth be told. I did it to forestall a fight, re-directing their mutual aggression at me, rather than each other. The Boy would have gotten his ass kicked, and that would have made me sad.)
But then, at some point, The Boy quit being a boy, and started being a user. I'm not quite sure when that was, but it was certainly when Harper's back was still hurt to the point she was largely confined to bed, so at least a year and a half. He quit going out. He quit having friends over, and more and more of the time, he just sat motionless in front of his computer, for hours on end. Not typing. Just staring straight ahead, holding a mouse in one hand. I took the picture below on the left in March. The one on the right was taken last night.
He sits like that for hours on end. Typically, he's there from the afternoon at some point until the early morning hours. I wake up pretty early, it's often still dark out when I get going for the day. And repeatedly, time after time, I've woken up and seen The Boy sitting there. Obviously after a long night of staring straight ahead.
Sometimes, I like to think that he's not just wasting his life. That he's working on some super-important project. Some sort of code that's going to change everything. That will make us all honest and enlightened and happy and free. A comprehensive system, a unified theory.
But that, I suspect, would require typing.
The Boy makes me sad, and maybe he shouldn't. But there have been times when I've wanted to intervene. To throw rocks across the street at his window and say, "Hey, you, Boy! Look around you! You live in a great neighborhood, in a great city, in a great region, in a great state! No matter what you are into, you can find it here! There is all kinds of life happening, just over your shoulders."
And then I think it's none of my business, and I just go on about my day or evening or night. And I tell Harper, "The Boy is at his computer again." And she replies "All is right with the world."
Originally posted on mat.vox.com
