"The nothing that is not there and the nothing that is" Wallace Stevens
As a child I never had the poetic comfort offered by Mr Stevens. Fears of the unknown were dealt with by well-worn homilies such as, ‘there's nothing in the dark that isn't there in the daytime.' The reassurance seemed to work OK, in that the boy-strangling thing never made it out from under the bed.
These days, the phantom's switched to the day shift, capable of causing actual – rather than imaginary – harm. I can't remember whether the old thing had a name – it was safe to call it 'Nothing' in daylight, but that changed pretty quickly to a whispered 'It' when the light went out. You could get rid of the old one with a torch flash under the bed and in the wardrobe to prove it was off somewhere threatening some other kid, but light doesn't seem to bother this new one much and I reckon it can move things!
The cane's OK for basic defence against chairs and half-opened doors, but it doesn't help much with the smaller, portable stuff. I should be match ready for that but I'm not. Cups, saucers and the like seem to sit around the edge of the table, waiting for me to arrive. The accident-free touch process for blindies should be simple enough; you kick off with the thought, transmit to fingers and freeze when something rattles. Much the same should apply to phones and remotes – jab a few buttons and hopefully someone in Silicon Valley will do the rest. But it’s just not happening and I'm beginning to think that this Nothing's not going to go away without a fight.
"I got plenty of nothing" George Gershwin
