The Eye of the Beholder

The other night, we watched this movie called "The Eye" (2008), an American remake of one of these Asian horror movies in a language nobody speaks (Mandarin, maybe?).  Jessica Alba stars as a blind violinist. (Is there any other kind? Do you suppose anyone messes with blind violinists by switching their violins with violas?  Does it make a difference?  Where was I?)  Alba receives a corneal transplant, which gradually restores her sight--only its not just her sight anymore: Now she has ghostly visions inspired by the donor's corneas.  Or something like that.  I admit I didn't pay close attention.

The movie gave me a great idea, though: I should hang out at the opthalmological surgery ward at my local pizzeria. . . or even better, at my local hospital.  There, I will volunteer to help the recovering patients--all of whom no doubt look like Jessica Alba!  I will help them adjust to the unfamiliar sensations caused by this thing called "sight."

"So," she'll say, "you're here to help me learn to see?"

"Yes, I am," I'll reply.  "And, by the way, you should know that this," indicating myself, "is what the ultimate sample of masculine beauty looks like."

"Really?!?"

"Why, yes!  And you know what else?"

"What?"

"I like YOU!"

"Oh, my!"

(WOS: Hon, what are you writing about?

(SOL: Nothing, Dear!)

OK. We have to keep it down.  You were saying?

"Oh, my! That's wonderful to hear, Mr. Solipsist."

"Just 'Solipsist' is fine."

"Hey!"

"What?"

"What is this called?"

"That's a magazine.  It says, 'Entertainment Weekly.'"

"Oh.  And who is this a picture of?"

"Uh. . . That's Johnny Depp.  He's an actor.  Why?"

"Oh! It's just that. . . well, I understand that you are the. . .what was it? 'The ultimate. . .?'"

"Ultimate sample of masculine beauty."

"Right.  But. . . When I see this picture, I feel all. . . tickly."

All right, so I'll have to keep them away from magazines.

Actually, I just need to make sure I'm there the moment they wake up from the unblindectomy. If I'm the first thing they see, they'll imprint on me like so many baby ducks!  Perfect!

(WOS: Can I read your blog now?

(SOL: Uh, sure.  Just remember, I love you.)