Friday, March 7, 2014
The Dungeon Queen
The guys watched as I screwed the mixer back together. Screw by screw. Allen bolt by allen bolt. The second channel had been crackling and needed a good cleaning. I imagine I could have just dripped the rubbing alcohol down the stem of the troublesome pot and achieved the same effect, but there is a certain joy in carefully dismantling, exposing and rebuilding products that aren't intended to be dismantled, exposed or rebuilt.
It's not so much a "pleasure"--it's more of a comfort. A comfort knowing that the world has some order. That pieces of metal can be held together with screws. That a faulty potentiometer is not a product of demon possession, but of a long-forgotten coffee stain. That, although so much is presented to us in black boxes running on magic, they are really just systems (though sometimes complex) that have been encased in seamless plastic.
It is a comfort knowing that if something breaks, I can fix it. That I can affect the world I'm living in. Physically change it. Adjust it to my will. That I am not simply a victim subject to external forces beyond my control, because look! I have control. I have control over this space I exist in. I can do things.
It is a comfort . And it is beautiful.