The other day, I decided I wanted a blue digital clock to sit atop my stereo in the music room. It had to be a particular size, to fit in the hole I had for it, and I wanted blue digits because most of the other lights in my stereo are blue. It had to have oversize (2") digits so I could see the time from across the room.
I looked all over fucking town. Must've gone to a dozen stores. Found lots of red oversize clocks, and a few blue small digit ones, but only one with large blue digits. Its case was huge, twice the size of the digits, and it sat on a stand. In frustration I brought it home, but as expected there was no way to fit it into my stereo rack (it now sits on my bedside table).
So I looked on Amazon -- and sure enough, a dozen "blue large digit clocks" to choose from, including one that was exactly what I was looking for.
When I was a kid, I used to spend HOURS flipping through albums at the used record stores in the U. District. I had a list in mind of records I was looking for, but more often than not such shopping trips resulted in finding something I WASN'T looking for, something wonderful and unexpected and surprising.
These days, I'll go out to Amazon with a particular CD in mind, and more often than not, find it immediately.
It's the same with books. Clothes. Kitchen gadgets. Filters for the vacuum. Doodads and gimcracks.
And if I was single, it would be the same on the dating websites.
It's NO WONDER the world is so divided politically these days. People no longer tolerate uncertainty, no longer surrender to surprise, no longer cultivate and celebrate serendipity.
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