I am not a mirror. I do not always reflect. However, most times I reflect, so in that way, I am something reflective, like a pool of water or glass. Sometimes, information and experience pass through, other times, I cast the inverse of that knowledge outward for others to see.
My desire to understand comes second only to my desire to be understood. This may explain my obsession with information. It explains a portion because like a bucket, I am filled with personal experiences that shape the lens with which I view the world.
I might see the world through a focal length of 50 millimeters. I blur the background, sharpen in on the subject, aware of minutiae like the jewelry on the wrist or brand of the bag on the shoulder. Yet, I forget that people reflect as well.
I began the first few pages of a novel I would call powerful for one reason. Its argument appears to reflect completely. Written in a time well before 2024, I am alarmed at the consistency of Mander's descriptions with today, July 10th, 2024.
Take this line I relate to, written by Jerry.
I didn't want to own the cars and yachts so much as I wanted to be like the people who did. More, I wanted to help create those images, to be around models, artists, photographers and writers whom I imagined to be the sleek and sophisticated people.
Here, a man I may never meet, who may not meet me, explains I perspective I held, even still hold.
He goes further, to describe a situation I fear grips the modern world like a pandemic.
I had the impulse to repeat a phrase that was popular among friends of mine, "Nature is boring." What was terrifying even then was that I knew the problem was me, not nature. It wasn't that nature was boring. It was that nature had become irrelevant to me, absent from my life. Through mere lack of exposure and practice, I'd lost the ability to feel it, tune into it, or care about it. Life moved too fast for that now.
I am positive Jerry could write circles around this pot-smoking, video-gaming nearly 30 year-old charlatan, but I would make one change to futureproof this excerpt.
A good writer would most likely find information to highlight how stark the contrast appears. I am but a blogger farming digital tokens. A frequent occurrence in my presence I could describe with a phrase that is popular among my friends.
"I'm bored."
In an age of information, with access to technology more capable than what most people older than us fathom, we are perpetually bored. It was my impression in this period that boredom would go the way of the vaquita. Boredom would cease to exist as we know it, with more ways to learn, share and exchange value, as of late.
This could not stray farther from the truth. Without a doubt, I am only reflecting partially what I see. I don't want to share anymore than that.
This is wild. I was just thinking about this old, obscure book yesterday, wondering where I put that copy I bought second hand for a dollar in 1990. I think I left it at my grandparents' house, hoping my grandfather would take the hint and turn off the TV that was always on, even back then, and also the one in the bedroom that they would sleep to.
I've always hated the sound of a television, the way it destroys all opportunity for thought, the way it robs us of some kind of consent necessary for attention. I was sketching out a blog post about how the internet was the opposite of television, just for a while, and now it's turning into something worse.
I miss the old boredom. It was something different, last century, when it came from too little. Today's boredom comes from too much, and I think there should be a different word for it.