Henry David Throw

I know. I know. I misspelled H. D. Thoreau's name. On purpose. For a reason.

HDT had a point, man. Simplify. Keep it simple (stupid). And this before electronics hypnotized damn-near every person on the "civilized" planet. Before.

I misspelled Henry David Thoreau's name...because. Electronically-speaking, I am fucking cursed, man. Everything seems to glitch, for me. Everything seems to go south in a hurry. This computer upon which I am typing is no exception. My baby has been to the doctor more than once. (Let's call it three or four times.) My cell phone has glitched on me. The big-screen TV, that once dominated a corner of the living room, went ker-plunk. And on...and on.

The reason I spelled his name as "Throw" in the title is because, well, I want to throw all my electronic shit out the do', mang. They completely belittle me, man, on a (seemingly) daily basis. They break, they befuddle me with their madness, they mock me from a distance. Am I the only person in the world who has problems with electronics?!

Fuck! The latest malcontent is the Nikon snap-and-giggle that I bought for the low low price of over $300 just six months ago. It's a great camera: HD video, good zoom, high pixels...it's a good damned camera! So why, now, is the motherfucking piece of metal and plastic not charging? Is it the battery? Is it where the battery cord penetrates the camera's body? I. Don't. Know.

And it pisses me off. This is not a ten-, a five-, or even a three-year-old camera. It is about six months. Gimme a fucking break. What do they make these things with?! Bubble-gum and tinfoil?! C'mon .

Anyway.

I have to take it somewhere. Its receipt is long-lost. I have to take it to a camera shop, I guess. And, eventually, I will. Luckily, I found its predecessor (excluding, of course, that hundred-dollar-piece-of-Canon-shit that died, enexpectedly, far far too early.) Yeah, luckily, I found the silver Canon when my mom looked in the sidewall of her passenger door in her car, about nine months to the day after I drunkenly left the boy in her car. Yes. I am lucky. Lucky, I guess, that I can plastic-purchase time-keepers at a (seemingly) manic pace.

I will tell you three this: If the motherfuckers lasted longer...well, I 'twouldn't be so manic.

Back to Thoreau. HDT knew of what he spoke and wrote. Back to Nature. Keep it simple. Simplify, gosh damn it.

I am not going to throw my electronics to the kerb (curb). I just love them too much. But it definitely is a love-hate relationship. Definitely. But the damned things are just too alluring. They call me.

But Henry David Thoreau had it right. Back to Nature, mang. Keep it simple.

Keep your sanity.