Cell Phone Transphixion

whale

From my perch on the couch I scan the skies over Bimini.

I barely touch my fingertips to the glass and there is Gunnbjørn Fjeld.

 

I am amused. I am amused. I am amused.

 

I press a button and I hear john Lennon singing Give Peace A Chance and then I see the bones of a thousand and more in the killing fields of Khmer Rouge

 

And Who am I? And Where am I? Man was not built to see this much.

That’s what I say to myself as I watch Muhammad Ali watching Sonny Liston, still in his corner, at the start of the seventh round.

 

I am amused. I am amused. I am amused.

 

Now there’s blood from a surgery somewhere in Luxembourg where doctors reattach a woman’s foot.

And here is a preacher in Bon Aqua, Tennessee, shouting: “Can I get a witness?” and crying like a boy as his rapt congregation looks on and claps their hands to the sound of ‘Buked and Scorned.

 

This is a tunnel. I am here but not here, and I am not there too. Nowhere near there.

I am not where my body is and my eyes water because they’re so dry and they dart in the blue light and they ache from seeing what man is not meant to see:

 

  1. Danny Pearl at the very end,
  2. German soldiers eating rye bread and smiling for the camera in Bergen Belsen,
  3. Sperm whales being hauled onto the deck of the Nisshin Maru
  4. A lamb with five legs
  5. A woman eating watermelon in her underpants and a bra
  6. A fifty foot spider crab scuttling along the seabed with a light from the nose of a nuclear submarine shining on its placenta-red shell.

 

THIS NEXT PART ONLY – to be sung: (Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight) for reference – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThHz9wlBeLU

 

I am, as they say, occupied.

Sucked-in, absorbed, consumed, ravaged, savaged, gripped, taken-over.

 

Steve, if you can hear me… “This is the greatest thing ever!”

 

 

 

 

 

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One thought on “Cell Phone Transphixion

  1. Is this not where a reckless desire to *know* everything leads? Does it not all just devolve into a prurient voyeurism without context or meaning, incrementally diminishing us until we becoming a soulless culture ever chasing the mirage of endless distraction?

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