I am a child stuck in the middle of the technological revolution. Straddling the societal/cultural storm that change incurs.
Cue music. It’s quite a ride.
Oh please oh please don’t forget how to write
For the love of all, embrace your inner erudite
Recall right in this moment when just one word
Flipped an average thought to one that’s absurd
Remember when a single perfectly prosed sentence
kindled love, grief, hate, or in some, repentance
Recall a time when the intelligent pen
Had the utmost respect of women and men
When nothing else could covey the perfect illusion
Of a culture’s zeitgeist, of an era’s delusion
Of the look of a god, of the guts of a thief
Of some impending woe told in whole but in brief
Of a story ever known but rewritten anew
Of ubiquitous truth, of outrageous sinew
But why this call to arms, or rather call to the pen?
Why this beacon to commemorate a literary when?
Well, right now, I’m rather critical of new modes of connection…
I think they’re somehow evading open honest real reflection.
I think the avalanche of a mass techno/media obsession
Is skewing our potential of unreserved unconditional confession
We’ve seen it all before cause it’s catalogued (sans Dewey decimal) somewhere
And it’s paralyzing people from observing real detail
They compare their own experience regardless of desire to or not
And I just sense a loss, that there’s something missing in this plot
That our future will be a mirage on the internet, a web of math and steel
Leaving us evolving but having missed some essential maturation meal
So now am I just ranting? have I made the point already…?
That our breadth of knowledge doesn’t make us smarter…
it makes us petty.
That while humanity may be evolving, it’s also getting tough and jaded
We forget how to fall in love cause we’ve seen it live!…and faded.
We think we’re batshit crazy from emotion, from intuitive insinuation
But WE DON’T KNOW the outcomes. That’s the job of REAL creation.
Oh
Sometimes I’ve got to take a step back and forget the whizzing breeze
Cause the electronic strangle hold makes me start to wheeze
I cannot will not text to you the meanings in my head
I cannot will not show to you my whole self via profile spread.
Instead I choose to write to all, I appeal with this odd old system
To express the spectrum of my life, and hope for communal wisdom.
how long have you spent debating something via text message?
honestly, how long?
Cathy says AAACK!
i love vonnegut.
one of my all time favorite writers that i've been privy to.
if i ever have a boy child. i'm naming him kurt. or Vonney. Von?
something tells me he'd get this intellectual squirming