The Boredeom
April 29, 1999
It all started when
I got back from the
Mountains. It was the middle of the week and I nothing to do. Computer
wasn't connected. Hi-fi buried away somewhere. TV with no reception and
of course nothing would be on at two in the afternoon anyway. I was
bored. Very bored. I started staring at a crack in the wall.
Time passed slowly at first but I soon found myself mesmerised by the subtle shades of cracks and blemishes, chips and textures, all embedded within my wall. This wasn't watching paint dry - this was watching dry paint. But still I felt its force draw me into its white and blotchy world...
I awoke from The Boredom a month later, calm and sane, and in reasonably good health, except for a little hunger and bright red bloodshot eyes, common to all who survive The Boredom. Most survivors do not remember the delirium in detail. I apparently took detailed notes as I sat staring, in complete and total boredom. I have no precise memory of writing these notes which are published below.
I have long exhausted all the cracks in my wall and have moved to the sole of my shoe. I stared at it for eight hours yesterday, and today it will be longer. I never clean or dust the room. I have not taken a bath in a week, nor changed my clothes. I do absolutely nothing. If a friend came to visit I would sit here not caring that he had entered my field of vision - and not caring when he walked out of it. If he died on the spot I would sit here looking at my shoe waiting to go through his pockets for something new to stare at. A lighter, a pocket gameboy, anything. Wouldn't you?
This was a deep boredom. It had become a spiritual journey. I no longer saw the world as a whole but only as its parts: geometric shapes, edges, colours, curves, depth, focus. No longer did I see trees or houses or people. It's all just matter, stuff. Stuff that began its life 15 billions years ago in universe that was smaller than a pin head. And from the waves of energy came atoms and stars and galaxies with planets and finally apathy: the end result of a 15 billion year long journey. It was apathy that allowed the human brain to develop to its size. Language developed from a need for more ever more boring chatter at cafes. And finally consciousness. How else could a species truly appreciate boredom except with conscious thought? And so those who had a true, conscious appreciation for their boredom prospered and they outnumbered those without conscious minds. Conscious boredom's conquest may have taken a mere ten thousand years since its accidental beginings. Spiritual leaders emphasized the importance of boredom through prayer and meditation. I got sick of this idea and wandered outside.
My neighbour tried to engage me in conversation as I stared at our dividing fence. A tall fence made of an ugly balsa wood. A knot in the wood had transfixed me. "How's it going, mate?"
The sounds of the question reverberated through my head. It took a little while for a meaning to attach to the words, but the reply came automatically: "I don't naturally express my feelings," I said in no particular direction. He blinked at me in my peripheral vision. I turned to another random direction as I thought how to explain, "I have no strong feelings, either positive or negative."
"Mate, sounds like you got The--" And he was gone. He had caught himself mid-sentence and run inside. A wise move. Much later and he may have become Bored himself.
I felt butterflies in my stomach. Dizzy. Sweating. Was it the flowers I had just eaten? Or was I feeling a craving? An anxiety? A desire? I hadn't desired anything in so long that I couldn't remember what desire felt like. I collapsed. It was the sun, I had later deduced. I had been staring into it.
I awoke the next day with a glimmer of hope. I had seen colour in my dreams. Today I will rid myself of this curse. There has always been only one cure. I could see it now. Perhaps I knew it all along. I had to pass The Boredom onto an unsuspecting victim. It was a game of tag. I had caught it talking to a hippy in Katoomba. We had been discussing the pros and cons of different image formats for the web. The conversation had slipped to the handling of animated gifs by various browsers and versions. The train ride home always seems dull, but looking back I realise it wasn't just dull, it had been Boring. The bastard had Bored me. Tag, you're it! He must have been laughing the whole time. He had freed himself from the shakles of the disease which plagues me now. My mind was currently focused on a particlarly large crack on the ceiling and these realisations came slowly. Much time passed before a particularly strong realisation struck me: I needed a way out. A solution to my dilemma. I had to pass the buck. Bore my family? My friends? No, they had all built up an immunity to by brand of boredom by now. I needed to deliver a sharp, swift and fatal dose in a single blow. The victim must not suspect a thing.
The answer made itself clear during my daily ritual of bathroom-tile gazing. The patterns started talking to me. I knew what I had to do. I would utilise this global network we call the Internet. I could feel The Boredom fading already. I broke away from my tile enduced trance just six hours later and made my way to the computer. I will start a chain-letter. An email which will be forwarded and reforwarded and bore thousands. I will be forever cured! And I will type up this chain-email as soon as I finish staring at the mouse mat.
You will now suffer from The Boredom for
up to 14 days. This will be reduced by one day for every person you
forward this story to. Send it to 15 people for a very unboring day.