... thinking about the "collage effect" of media, the bombardment of images and their "immersive" quality, putting us into the crucible of the moment, grabbing us with the choicest morsels - those stories that blot out or at least overshadow those other minor goings-on of the day, kidnapping our attention with an urgent, burning, breathless, aesthetic of now... Look at the headlines...a massive mushroom-cloud-like explosion in Beirut, Lebanon - followed by protests and rioting, most of the city in ruins, the entire government resigning...a fraudulent stolen election in Belarus, another corrupt autocrat still in power....more protests by night...a clamp-down in Hong Kong, an "Apple daily newspaper owner" arrested and later released on bail... another police shooting in the States... stores in Chicago looted overnight.... Portland demonstrations...clashes with police...slap-dash executive orders, a relief bill still on hold....school re-openings gone awry down south, Georgia teens with COVID...shark sightings in Maine, one woman killed...Russia claims a first "vaccine" for the virus...and New Zealand, only a single case in the past 102 days... the world in a nutshell existing as the collage....the quick-stream, 24/7 newsfeed, the daily mishmash of everything all at once... The sense of finitude, closure, the packaging and selling of news...And what of other people, places, phenomena? Happening out there? And is there nothing else? Nothing beyond this jarring, jolting canvas??? Much to be sure by way of entertainment, by way of oddities, sports updates, business cycles...but mostly on any given day the breaking news exclusives, the collage of headlines, backed by the official news-reading voice, backed by talking-heads, and by the multiple, unrelenting viral videos that erupt and appear out of nowhere, seemingly random images that feed, frame, edit, encapsulate our diurnal time allotment for us all to SEE and yet...still random...
We had made our way down busy Palm Avenue towards the crosswalk. after zigzagging the usual route from busy Bandini Avenue to Tower Road to Rosewood Place. Bret was our wild-man companion - a fifth-grader with a take-no-prisoners approach to life. The local crosswalk, that most mundane of enterprises was soon to become the scene of spontaneous absurdist theater when suddenly out of nowhere came the random yelp: Hey...Hey...What do you want with us lady? - What do I want with you? said the most predictably normal gray-haired woman by whose ever so brief guidance we measured our daily jaunt to school. Yeah - where are you taking us? - There's only one way kid - It's this way... - You're not really a crossing guard are you? came the cheeky interrogative. The slightly bemused, limping, beleaguered woman was dwarfed by her bright yellow uniform as she held up her STOP sign - showing Brett. The other smaller kids walked by us single file in the middle of th...
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