On a train in France a couple weeks ago (thankfully, not this one), I dove into an unreserved seat beside a petulant clove cigarette - this fragrant, smoking thing named Zoé.
Seeing Zoé's golden legs up on the back ofmy neck the seat in front of her, spying the empty seat beside, I went sprinting down the train aisle toward it, only to be met by loud protestations as Zoé sensed her alone time getting squashed.
"There are plently of empty seats, Monsieur!" this angry bird actually snapped at me.
"Bone swa," I grunted. "Like to sit here."
Once, twenty years or so ago, there wouldn't have been this French resistance ... my presence, and Zoé's together, would've formed a pièce de résistance! Led to peace ... Would've spelled detente!
Of course, I was that much younger then ... and Zoé, newborn ... But the point I'm trying to make is that seasons, things and people change. If I felt growing "old" back then, imagine being middle aged now - when in an equivalent number of years removed, I'll be pushing seventy ... then daisies ...
And so might you.
What isn't changing naturally, though, is the way strangers regard each other. Like nuisances and interruptions ... With little real interest, attention or even eye contact ... With little compulsion felt to look away from whatever else they're doing, playing or listening to at the moment their worlds -- or Words with Friends -- are invaded.
I feel all ages feed this corruption. It's no longer a "Millennial" thing. Our need to be alone, in fact, be anti-social with each other, is as pervasive as it is desperate. Ironic on so many levels: when we're fed transparently empty "news", and have no one who's driving the apple cart as it careens ever faster toward onrushing traffic, the brakes and steering wheels useless, threadbare tires spinning off ...
We need each other!
Otherwise, no stories left to build upon. No love, or lust -- potential! -- unrequited ... carried through the decades, firing dreams and weighting memories, and hope (yet hopeful. Waiting);
for who or what will be there when our "friends" outgrow their sex machines? "Devices", "apps" and glowing tubes ... their piracies, idiocies, "reality" (really?) ... forced "fails", "quirks", fakely "eccentric" idiosyncracies?
Seeing Zoé's golden legs up on the back of
"There are plently of empty seats, Monsieur!" this angry bird actually snapped at me.
"Bone swa," I grunted. "Like to sit here."
Once, twenty years or so ago, there wouldn't have been this French resistance ... my presence, and Zoé's together, would've formed a pièce de résistance! Led to peace ... Would've spelled detente!
Of course, I was that much younger then ... and Zoé, newborn ... But the point I'm trying to make is that seasons, things and people change. If I felt growing "old" back then, imagine being middle aged now - when in an equivalent number of years removed, I'll be pushing seventy ... then daisies ...
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| "The Death of Jeff Glovsky" |
What isn't changing naturally, though, is the way strangers regard each other. Like nuisances and interruptions ... With little real interest, attention or even eye contact ... With little compulsion felt to look away from whatever else they're doing, playing or listening to at the moment their worlds -- or Words with Friends -- are invaded.
I feel all ages feed this corruption. It's no longer a "Millennial" thing. Our need to be alone, in fact, be anti-social with each other, is as pervasive as it is desperate. Ironic on so many levels: when we're fed transparently empty "news", and have no one who's driving the apple cart as it careens ever faster toward onrushing traffic, the brakes and steering wheels useless, threadbare tires spinning off ...
We need each other!
Otherwise, no stories left to build upon. No love, or lust -- potential! -- unrequited ... carried through the decades, firing dreams and weighting memories, and hope (yet hopeful. Waiting);
for who or what will be there when our "friends" outgrow their sex machines? "Devices", "apps" and glowing tubes ... their piracies, idiocies, "reality" (really?) ... forced "fails", "quirks", fakely "eccentric" idiosyncracies?
 |
| "Blu Jg (Blue.Period) ... in E Major" |
Me, I prefer to tread cobblestoned streets of each city ... avoiding the parking lot choked superhighways (especially our "information" one) to pave my own roads ...
For better or worse! When young, or now old ... willing riders or empty seats beside me ... Not "alone"; ever lonely, though ...
I'll get there.
Wherever "there" may be.
For better or worse! When young, or now old ... willing riders or empty seats beside me ... Not "alone"; ever lonely, though ...
I'll get there.
Wherever "there" may be.
