UNIQUE EYE MOVEMENT

His home theatre is secretly rigged with equipment that monitor unique eye movements, flitting eye movements, straying eye movements, static, strained, pinioned, dazzled, sparkly, glassy eye movements, because he is always so concerned people he invites to come and watch movies don’t enjoy themselves or aren’t engrossed or aren’t having a good time. Always so concerned they’d rather be somewhere else. Always so concerned they’re wasting their time. Always so concerned it's more fun to let their eyes wander about the place instead of fix firmly on the home theatre screen because apparently it's more fun to let your eye stray toward a dusty fake pot plant than keep them fixed until stars and stripes and pale electric spirals form on the home theatre screen. Don’t let him show you his art works because basically the same principle applies there. He’s fashioned a strange little showpiece of a sleeping bag that has whooping coughs and progresses along and around a short square area in stop motion. It’s a rather disturbing and saddening sight seeing the sleeping bag crawl along the floor not unsimilar to a caterpillar or some other crawly creature but in stop motion, each jerky bend or crinkle of its body accompanied by a whooping, heartrending and saddening cough. I’m given to pitying such creatures, and usually it shows, I cannot help myself, thus it is especially awkward for me to be asked by him to watch his artwork in action as I cannot forbear from putting my hand to my mouth and staring on in horror. And it is the last reaction he wants from appraisers of his art. He wants them to enjoy it. He has unique eye movement sensors in this little room where the coughing sleeping bag is held captive like a starving animal or kidnap victim, too. He can see, brooding some time late at night in front of the monitors when playing back my visit, if my attention had been arrested pleasantly or not. He can see where my eyes had been straying toward. Which usually is all over the place, as I cannot help it.