Shallow Reflections

I'm tired. I wish I could take a break from this writing, but that just invites more vicious assaults on my image. I wonder if I'll drop dead of exhaustion from being forced to post work every day just to prove I'm not in jail; just to defend myself from the same transparent lie that has been told and retold and retold over the last ten years by a big ridiculous gang of celebrity frauds who want to be the stars of my music and comedy. What a hopeless world affords them prominence. Have you found something more constructive to do than watching TV or listening to the radio or playing a video game today? I won't count on it, though reading this post is a good start. Just as my smoking habit turned out to be a lot less binding than I first imagined, I bet most of you could abandon your favourite dead-end electronic diversions with little difficulty. You don't really need them, and, at least for the time being, they seem to be doing you considerably more harm than good. I used to love watching TV as a youngster. In fact, my script Boob Tube Brain could be a snapshot of my boyhood. In 1973 I knew the broadcast schedule so well that I could predict the commercials. When I recall this period, I see my school engaged in a tug of war against corporations for possession of my mind. With tedious homework up against the flashy fare of televised prime time, the winner was inevitable. As a teen I later rejected television, though probably too late to avoid its consumerist influence. I also used to like video games and I shudder to think of how much time I wasted on them. Video games are even more dangerous than TV because they are interactive. They enable their players to immerse themselves wholly in the two dimensions of their computer screens, a full step beyond the secondary role-playing offered by TV shows and movies. While their imaginary flights of fancy were fun and compelling, they also left me feeling somewhat more dissatisfied with my real self. I loved my mother but I think she liked TV too much, especially light comedies like the Loveboat. I'd turn and glower at her at the predictable end of such a show, dismayed to find her beaming with delight. She hated cruel reality and thought she should discourage me from facing it, but life is tragic, and a responsible parent would have wanted to prepare me better. My mother wanted me to be comfortable, but I'm not sure if she wanted me to actually be alive. We'd argue about it. Too much detachment from reality clears the way for people to extend their fantasies to pretending ownership of my songs and blogs. Since all my work came from shunning electronic diversions - outside of blog posting, of course - I think it is all the more destructive when a person's internet connection gets more credit for producing it than I do. As for facing life's tragedy, the last thing my mother told me before she passed away in the hospital was that I was right. 1:53pm: Yes, Google, that was me trying to sign into my account from those outside computers this afternoon. I'm sorry I don't have a mobile phone yet, but I thought you could tell it was me by the unique way I always type in those password characters. You know what I mean, right? I sure hope I don't get stuck outside my account like that again anytime soon. It was rather scary.
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