The Jumble

Why should I labor today to tell a tale when there is so little to be gained and maybe something to be lost.  It is senseless, really, all this writing.  Everyone has given it up.  The era of emails and blogs ended long ago.  We live in a faster world, now, more immediate.  Texts, if you are lucky, but more likely shared IG or X posts.  I do that, too, shamefully, but I must stay "in touch" with friends who complain about my text messages being "tomes."  The attention span of people has devolved.  

Mine, too.  I'm not simply pointing the finger.  Just giving it.  

But. . . Youtubers are making movies that are killing it and overturning the market.  Kids can do more with an iPhone now than corporate studios do with a million dollars worth of film equipment.  At least creatively and monetarily even if not technically.  But all the equipment and technique can't make up for a lack of imagination which is what corporations seem to be selling.  

And that's how you get the Clown Prince for president.  

My buddy sent me a strangely well written message last night.  

And there it was. At first just an image. Not clearly in focus but unforgettable. Blond, blue eyed with a blunt bob. Hair drifting in the wind as she smiled. The kind of look that millions had seen in magazines. Then it was followed by a succession of more faces. I knew them all. Why just now and why so poignant? Capturing a slice of what is impossible to get back i suppose. And there it was. 

He's a really bright guy even if he is stupid.  What could I do?  I made it visual.  

I fucked up, though.  I made it in portrait rather than landscape mode.  Selavy.  I used two A.I. engines, an app to rip the music, and a video editing program to make this.  I don't care enough about it to go back and redo it.  

He liked it well enough.  Memories.  

 They are like that photo, a disoriented hodgepodge of ephemera, reflections, things near and far.  A jumble.  

If you live long enough, anyway.