An Emotional Ketchup Burst
Are written communiques inherently less emotional than in-person meetings?
Every Friday I send out a real love letter that I’ve transcribed from a stack I bought at the flea market. Missed one? Check the chronological list.
Sept. 24, 1961
Dearest One,
I forgot to number the pages on my last letter. Therefore, it shall “remain numberless forever.” Sort of like a man without a country. How sad. The first three pages were a series of complaints anyway, so it doesn’t really make too much of a difference.
Thank goodness Karen stored the letters in the box in their original envelopes to help me track the dates and pages.
At present, I am planning on coming down Saturday morning. I should arrive around 10 a.m. My plans are contingent however on hearing from you and the availability of accommodations. My chances of getting accommodations are pretty fair (that is, likely), but I must know whether it is alright with you. I don’t know what your study load is or will be then.
This might seem weird to those born after the age of constant communication, but DAMN everything was so hard and annoying back then! That said, why can’t he stay with that old roommate of his? I do like that he’s respectful of her and her study sitch. That’s kind and not too presumptuous on his part.
We discussed the question “What is science?” last Thursday in Pscyh. With a group of 40 students, this can become a very entertaining discussion. Lots o’ laughs. Anyway, as Der Herr Instructor stated at the outset, we came to no definite conclusion, but at least it started everyone thinking, which is what the instructor had in mind. The application of philosophy to science in general and especially to psych. Is amazing. Of course, philosophy only goes so far as defining and classifying the general scientific method. But in psychology, the methods of philosophy can actually be used for evaluation of the empirical results gathered by the psychologist. Gee, whaddaya know.
I don’t miss talking to college guys.
I recorded The Sound of Music Friday night. Also Friday night what I hope is the last component failure occurred. A diode in the power supply broke down and consequently the recorder has been “out of commission” all weekend, which was annoying because weekends are the only time I have to use the blamed thing. But that is life. Maybe now it will work satisfactorily.
He’s gotta be talking about a reel to reel, right?
How are you and your roommate getting on? Also, how have your courses been the first week? The future looks considerably brighter now, I imagine.
I am glad I didn’t go to Navy Pier. Studying at home would be impossible. Too many distractions for one thing and a decidedly non-scholastic atmosphere for another. Too much commotion. Like this weekend for example. No peace for five minutes. That’s another reason why I like the middle of the night. It’s quiet. One can think long thoughts. Also, one does not have all manner of other intruding thoughts to break up organization, chains of reasoning or tenuously formed ideas. Right now, I’m really in no shape to write any profound letters, but I want to, and I try, whether successful or not. I find writing a letter and talking to be quite different. A letter conveys much less emotion.
That’s the unfortunate part of a letter, although modern trends are making letters more efficient by creating more and stronger taboos on display of emotion. The natural result of a technological age, I suppose, in which emotionless observation and gathering of data is necessary to advance the technology.
Yes, certainly, when I think of the technological revolutions of the last 100 years, the dispassionate elements of typed communication certainly come to mind. Nobody is ever ruled by emotions online!
But, sociologically, the results are devastating, since effective and sincere communication becomes virtually nonexistent.
Like the man says, words are cheap, and the emotion must be most important. But how can emotion be communicated if everyone is taught to control, repress, expunge and attack and dispose of it in their daily lives. Of course, the stored up supply generally rushes out, all at once, at periodic intervals, and like the gas, oil, or whatever used to heat a house results in a violent outburst of decidedly unpleasant proportion and effects. Too much of a good thing.
Douglas Coupland called this an Emotional Ketchup Burst.
So now that I’ve solved society’s problems, I’ll have to close as it’s getting late. I will continue tomorrow.
Meanwhile sweetheart sleep tight, sweet dreams and take extra good care of yourself. I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope.
Love and Kisses,
Tiger
He doesn’t have any friends, apparently. Long distance calls were really expensive. These letters were his only friend.