Deadpan Poetry

May 15, 2025

COMPUTER MADNESS

The computer madness has overtaken Gordon again. A recurring affliction. He is shopping for computers. Yes, plural. He’s not collecting them, per se, but courting the idea. It’s the strangest thing. When Gordon buys a new computer, he invariably finds himself using it to shop for a different computer.

It begins with wistful ideation, then the familiar rush of false momentum, and soon enough, the usual collapse. Gordon has grown wise to this side of himself. He means to end the cycle. This time it’s the more sensible model. Something empirical. Unsentimental. No brushed titanium cooing under his touch. Just a flat, obedient rectangle. He needs a computer with the humility to forget the others. He needs a screen that does not reflect his face.

Last time, he sought transcendental power. Something to bedazzle the eyes with more vivid sensory experiences. Reviews spoke of color spectrums not visible to mortals. This computer would unlock a cerebral floodgate sealed off by some unknown psychic embargo. Gordon began to believe it could simulate alternate timelines. That was a tense month. But the torrent never came. Instead it offered a trial subscription to Adobe Cloud. He returned it citing “insufficient awakening (from sleep mode).”

Before that, he invested in versatility. A modular hope with hinges and leathers and a display that swiveled into several unlikely positions. It could bridge the gap between creativity and productivity. That’s what he told his wife, anyway. It promised to reconcile his artistic self with the shade of a poet he once believed himself to be. That reconciliation did not occur. There was, instead, a substantial discount on something sweeter.

We refrain from judgment, officially. But we do note, with some professional obligation, that Gordon is unemployed. He has been for some time. He has multiple resumes in a folder marked Drafts and a calendar full of spotless mornings. Gordon should probably be using his computer to look for meaningful work. Stop this madness, Gordon.