Let’s face it. We’re all going blind and our brains are turning into strobe light garbage dumps.
Content! Images! Content! Images!
I used to be able to sit down and read an entire novel without moving. I have vivid memories of giddily reading John Clellon Holmes’ Go in a single sitting and devouring Ellison’s Invisible Man in just a few hours. I lament that we didn’t read more women writers in college, but I digress.
These days, my brain is like a Polaroid on crack (see above: digression).
When I closed my eyes last night, this is the kind of stuff that flashed before my eyes:
Violent Paris! Virulent Trump! Voracious Sex! Volatile mommyblogs! Venus herself a.k.a. naked Amy Schumer!
All of this, at once, replete with images and emotions that I don’t even have the time to process before I feel my heart rate tick up and my breathing get shallow. None of it means anything and little of it makes any sense, yet this is apparently the fuel this planet needs to keep spinning on its axis.
As much as I fancy myself a writer, I am also a careful curator. These days, we call it content curation but in the pioneer days, we just called it “get out your scissors.”
Seriously. I still remember the era before text, email and RSS feeds, when you would risk life and limb by physically taking hold of a pair of scissors and, wait for it, clip something out of a magazine. Then, you’d take the time to handwrite a little cover note and send it off (with a stamp!) to a friend or loved one to let them know you were thinking of them.
The other night we were watching Togetherness. Do you watch it? It’s awkward and funny and will give you a sentimental lump in your throat when you least expect it. Which is a strangely realistic portrayal of what it’s like to be thirtysomething and trying to navigate the realms of marriage and friendship.
In one scene, the lead couple with the fractured marriage are muddling through a tough situation where their sex life just isn’t working. The husband harkens back to an interview with George Harrison’s wife he saw [in a Scorcese movie]: “When she’s asked to name the secret to a long marriage, she laughs and says, “You don’t get divorced.”