sniff, jog, run, sprint, race, ….. dig dirt, throw it around, mark virgin walls, desperate for volume, but note how filth slides off that non-stick, anonymous glass. Then claim looking for gold, in the slurry, those tiny glints of truth pushed aside by the odd self-absorbing obsessions of the day. That 5 second blink of headline. ……… I look up from my ranting and there is the face ejected from some ‘house’ the night before, a 5 minute superstar for failing. I don’t want to know, in my mute button hammering desperation, I don’t want to know ! What this is or thinks. But I notice how carefully prepared, made over, made up for the studio oven. This dressed up plain person is the moment. Treated like a globe winning deserving non-success. Shortcomings now grab our sec-span attention? The soon throwaway, vanishing, disappearing to be sucked clean of any possible pixel glitter before deletion. A 2-dimensional nutrient for flabby imaginations, dumbed-down, quiet, controlled.
We can’t wait to smell the next pervasive stain.
......over the edge 