Sunday, May 08, 2005
Scorched by the Phantom
I am feeling a bit of pain and anticipation at the same time. Once more an alternate future has been cast out from my life and my future has been shaped by my decisions. People move together or apart based on whether they make the same pictures. I might have been left alone with mine, to bask in it without a partner still. Who would have thought that my path requires such discipline to maintain, and that this discipline would be an acidic poison puddle that would scold the feet of anyone who was not a proper partner who tried to walk by my side? An angel blocks their way, fills them with fear, tempts them with their desires of their secular past of which they left behind, and tells them that life will be fun no more.
Why is it such a big deal to separate one's self from the electrons, the light beams, and the deafening radiation that fills the desires of so many people who crave to be numbed? Don't they realize that television might as well be knives and razor blades shot out from the glass of the screen? If people only heard the high frequency sounds that I hear when I am near a television, they would turn it off and they would never look back.
But there is a small possibility that I might be rejected by a wonderful angel of a potential wife because in her picture there is a television in the living room and in my picture there is not. Would you think that it was ever contemplated by Sony or Zenith or HDTV that a person would choose the idea of having a television in their house over the opportunity of having a loving husband and the promise of a life of warmth, excitement, and meaningful experiences? Why would someone contemplate throwing away the possibility for a real life of their own so that they could attach themselves to the lives of a fictional sitcom characters? Other than the deafening sound and the poisonous radiation that oozes from television screens stunting our existence, sapping our energy, and poisoning our minds with junk -- why would someone choose that death over me who believes in living life to the fullest, experiencing life from the first person, and leading a truthful existence? Am I that unattractive?
During the fourteen hours I have spent with this angel, I looked deep into her eyes over one hundred times. What I saw was her looking back at me, penetrating any mask that may have shown up in the course of our many conversations. I gasped many times and my heart beat rapidly on countless occasions. Was this not shared? Is television -- an inanimate object that teaches a fantasy world -- my nemesis? Is this technology my enemy against which I should rage?
I might have lost an angel of music to the phantom of a television sitcom. If this has happened, I think I would cry. She will be calling my people tomorrow with her decision of whether to continue our magical encounters or whether to recede into the depths of lifelessness by choosing a show over a life with me. Free will. Television. G-dliness. Emptiness. Truth. Mendacities. Choice. Choice.