The Toto Hole
Late at night I’m minding my own business, doing my own thing, and then Youtube says, “Hey, you watched Rosanna last night.”
I’m thinking, “Bloody algorithm. Leave me alone.”
It wont leave me alone.
“You wanna watchit again??”
It’s the “40 Years around the Sun” tour version. Brilliant and totally epic. Delicious no matter who you are. It’s video cocaine. And when Steve Lukather goes into his guitar solo toward the end it’s like we were submerged under water. A fish tank of Time and Space descend and it’s an expanding globe of wowism and holy-what is this! You are lost in sound and sight and nostalgia, because, well, it’s a great song from the 80’s.
And I’m thinking “Yezh I do, but no, because it’s too soon. I just watched it last night.”
And Youtube wins. SO I watch it again.
Then Youtube says, “You like Rosanna. You wanna listen to Hold The Line?”
And I’m thinkin’, I gotta move on. There’s a whole world of content out there. But OK, YES.
So I watch “Hold The Line”.
And then Youtube says, “You wanna watch “The rains down in Africa?” and I think, like a prison victim, like a crack addict, “OK. Yeah, I’ll watch Africa.”
And when I cannot take anymore, Youtube says, “You wanna watch Georgie Porgie“?
And I say, Oh, Hell No.
New Beginning
Today marks the first day of my new career as a writer, that is, not as a hobby or something to piddle around with on evenings and weekends. Today, liberated from a traditional American employment model, I now set out to discover what it means to be a professional writer.
It also means the resurrection of this blog and likely other blogs to come. So I restart this blog with a poem by Langston Hughes that someone shared with me some weeks ago. It is a fitting vessel to describe my new endeavor.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Does it fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?—Langston Hughes