Saturday, November 16, 2024

Seven Years - Nov 5 2024

 

Seven Years

Nov 5 2024


The fire-hose of news

breaking news

and trumpeted exclusives,

of interviews

shocking truths

and titillating rumours.

Of fiercely clashing views

argued loudly

in all-caps,

softened, at best

by some satirical cartoons

and a few amusing anecdotes

has me pinned to the wall.

Not to mention celebrity pics

click bait

checklists;

addictive videos,

where nimble dancers lip-sync

to catchy songs.


Streaming in, non-stop

and leaving me exhausted,

with trembling hands, racing mind

and bulging bloodshot eyes.


A breathless litany

of what happened,

      . . . what’s going on,

              . . . what’s next.

As if the future is knowable.

As if we ever call them out

on how often they were wrong.

Which is rarely,

because our memories are short,

the firehose keeps blasting,

and distractions never end.


But not what really matters

in all the noise.


How I long, instead

for a life of contemplation.

For cloistered silence

on a mountaintop

somewhere faraway.


Seven years

sounds about right.

A Biblical sum.

A sabbatical

from all the sturm und drang.

A number that feels balanced, centred

in and of itself.


So on my return to earth

will I want to hear

what happened in my absence?

Or will I be above it all;

still taking refuge

in the rarefied air

of my aerie of one?


Or is escape impossible;

are implicated

in the business of man

like it or not?

As John Donne famously said

no man is an island

entire of itself.


Because we depend

on the kindness of others.

Because belonging

is in our nature.

And because talking to oneself

seems crazy

when we've all so much to say.


A friend just sent me a Washington Post article about Kamala Harris' “possible path to victory”. It's late on Nov 5: US election day. So what possible utility does reading such a piece provide? What's the purpose of baselessly speculating about something that will be actual news in just a few hours?

This is a perfect example of how so much so-called reporting is really just idle chatter about what may or may not happen. Which is usually wrong, as well as pointless: why not simply wait until the outcome can actually be known?!! The media: a lot of noise that signifies nothing. Instead of news, we get unaccountable opinions about some unknowable future.

Even for me — a consumer in print of long form legacy media, rather than the internet, social media, or cable news — the volume seems overwhelming. Especially in the age of Trump, who so perversely fascinates as he repels. Even if you desperately want to, you can’t take your eyes off his utter improbability and ludicrousness as he continues to plumb new depths of depravity.


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