The Joy of Empty Pockets

Keys, wallet and phone are the holy trinity of the modern human’s peace of mind. They are the totem that sits on the bed side table that protect the hungover from worry, because if they are there neatly placed together, it couldn’t have been that bad, everything is alright. Even if they are strewn like pride against an alley wall or thrown in the corner, it is as good as any proof that world has not ended. The wallet may be empty, the screen may be cracked, but to have them is enough. To hold the trinity together at that too early (or to late) hour is a once more repeated revelation that even on autopilot thou doth not crash, that thou art greater than thou own stupidity and thou art invincible! Or at the very least that one’s regrets can be savoured as they should be, privately and through a sufficiently hazy memory to allow for kind reconstruction.
When you leave home, the trinity is again the talisman by which your wanderings in the world are kept safe. For what malady will the modern wanderer encounter that cannot be remedied with recourse to either, the wallet, the keys or the phone. In fact what positive action can be undertaken without this triumvirate of techno-morphism? The list is not long past physical labour, breathing, thinking and if you’re lucky fucking and eating too. Then again what else do you really need, to have the simple happiness that is the only happiness you can be sure is real? Certainly not the small serotonin hits that Facebook is designed to give its uses every time a little red number appears at the top of the screen. Not the constant connection that means nothing because it is only the potential for constant connection. If shame is really a fear of losing connection with others then keeping your pockets full with keys-wallet-phone becomes the most shameful of acts when it becomes necessity. Communication doesn’t stop when a phone is switched off and a connection between people is not broken when a phone call is missed or a message is unreturned. Time with friends does not need to be bought and the best experiences are often compliments of the unplanned. A home loses its warmth when its doors are opened by no-one save its residents and becomes a chamber of isolation the more it’s feathered with comforts that render the outside world unnecessary for superficial pleasure.