Thursday, May 3, 2001

 

12:22 p.m. I feel very very guilty, tonight, because I let myself get sucked into the TV-athon and sat for three or so hours in front of a machine and watched other people having adventures.

They had tans. I, however, am pasty. They were trim and toned; I am neither. After three hours, I've learned nothing new about myself and I've not contributed a whit to civilization's progress ... unless or until I go out any buy some of the products advertised on tonight's big show.

Of course, in a perfect universe, things are. They just are. Things are not necessarily pushed and arranged and there is no difference between the one big winner and all the other losers.

But still, I do feel guilty. I know it's not really possible to "waste" time -- time just floats gently around us like the very air we breathe. It's endless and we're not, so we most certainly can't waste it. Actually, it wastes us.

But I digress.

Or do I?

So, there's an empty hole in the middle of my evening and somewhere across town, people are having a party to celebrate the triumph for CBS that Survivor represents. Certain images remain: the helicopter taking off into the dark Outback night. Empty lonely terrain, but sky so full of mysterious stars. Then, landing in a foreign place, a world so brightly lit, on a studied backlot, on a blanket of artificial light. Light extravagant, purchased at tragic cost.

And two women. The first one lost, in tears. The last one winning, in tears. The mean lash of fame. The unpure burden of a million dollars ...

Be careful of the forces you stir up when you want something very, very much.