Reality Bites
Home again, home again, two weeks away and four weeks behind. If only work weren't so irritating -- it's not the work, exactly; it's more the failure to comprehend my clients experience when I show them that if they save 2 cents a year, they won't get to retire in the style to which they have become accustomed. Ever.
Then, the Tony award nominations: Rabbit Hole and Shining City, two of the three plays I have seen this season are up for "best play." If that's the best Broadway can do, I don't see much reason to renew my theater subscription.
The former is not at all evocative of what it purports to be; the latter uses "fuck" as its all-purpose adjective/adverb/noun as it comes out of the two main characters mouths. For dialogue like that, I could stub my foot at home and curse the furniture.
There is "our" government, so embarrassing and successful at reaching the lowest common denominator of our society that I wonder why I pay taxes.
In short, I do not return to this side of the pond a happy camper.
My friends and I all wonder: when was the last time we had mind-blowing sex? Is it too much to ask, for one's so-called romantic partners to make an effort in that department? Or have we been so mentally drunk on sex earlier in our lives that sobriety makes it all seem like been there, done that, discarded the condom and used up the batteries in our vibrators?
Where has the creativity gone? Has all of it been focused on unorthodox accounting and lies, damn lies and statistics? Or is it too much to ask, that some of it appear in English? Judging from the protests I saw taking place here on TV in Paris, that does seem to be the case.
I am a former editor. I would like the drugstore clerk in Wonderland to know the English word for "film." The store stocks it -- is it too much to ask the staff to name those objects in the language the clientele speaks in this neighborhood? Or has xenophobia crept into me while I wasn't looking, while I was studying the history of immigration in this country. Me, not the last of the great patriots by any means.
We have, it seems reached the era not of the accidental or armchair tourist, but the cyber tourist. You can sit in front of the computer and pretend you are anywhere.
It is only in the small town corners -- without video games, Internet cafes and other so-called modern conveniences that you can get a real sense of what it means to BE THERE NOW. And those are few and far between. There is one county in Connecticut with no cell phone access. Sign me up for the summer.
E-mail and blogging are the best technology has offered me in the past ten years or more. Show me different, show me better, inspire me to want to learn -- is that too much to ask? We have reached the era of 500 channels and nothing's on. Looking at reality head-on is overrated. It's on a collision course with sanity. Convince me otherwise -- I do remain open to suggestions.
Then, the Tony award nominations: Rabbit Hole and Shining City, two of the three plays I have seen this season are up for "best play." If that's the best Broadway can do, I don't see much reason to renew my theater subscription.
The former is not at all evocative of what it purports to be; the latter uses "fuck" as its all-purpose adjective/adverb/noun as it comes out of the two main characters mouths. For dialogue like that, I could stub my foot at home and curse the furniture.
There is "our" government, so embarrassing and successful at reaching the lowest common denominator of our society that I wonder why I pay taxes.
In short, I do not return to this side of the pond a happy camper.
My friends and I all wonder: when was the last time we had mind-blowing sex? Is it too much to ask, for one's so-called romantic partners to make an effort in that department? Or have we been so mentally drunk on sex earlier in our lives that sobriety makes it all seem like been there, done that, discarded the condom and used up the batteries in our vibrators?
Where has the creativity gone? Has all of it been focused on unorthodox accounting and lies, damn lies and statistics? Or is it too much to ask, that some of it appear in English? Judging from the protests I saw taking place here on TV in Paris, that does seem to be the case.
I am a former editor. I would like the drugstore clerk in Wonderland to know the English word for "film." The store stocks it -- is it too much to ask the staff to name those objects in the language the clientele speaks in this neighborhood? Or has xenophobia crept into me while I wasn't looking, while I was studying the history of immigration in this country. Me, not the last of the great patriots by any means.
We have, it seems reached the era not of the accidental or armchair tourist, but the cyber tourist. You can sit in front of the computer and pretend you are anywhere.
It is only in the small town corners -- without video games, Internet cafes and other so-called modern conveniences that you can get a real sense of what it means to BE THERE NOW. And those are few and far between. There is one county in Connecticut with no cell phone access. Sign me up for the summer.
E-mail and blogging are the best technology has offered me in the past ten years or more. Show me different, show me better, inspire me to want to learn -- is that too much to ask? We have reached the era of 500 channels and nothing's on. Looking at reality head-on is overrated. It's on a collision course with sanity. Convince me otherwise -- I do remain open to suggestions.
Labels: Big Brother, technological hazards, work
posted by alice, uptown at 7:04 PM
2 Comments:
Wow. You certainly open a lot of doors with this post. I wish there were some easy answers, but I don't even know where to begin.:(
I love your style, your tone and your outlook. You captured exactly how I feel on every topic you mentioned, except the vibrators they're not as fun for me.
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