1974

Everyday the table moves a little closer to the television. Sooner or later one of them will have to go. Behind the television the window threatens the same. Isn’t it better to be sucked into the world instead of phantasmagoria? Possibly both, and neither; there‚Äôs been evidence they are the same.

The cell phone never jumps. It lies lifeless on the table, next to the monitor, lifeless also, though bent towards two flashing screens, never disclosed, but hastened to again, foretold to other eyes on some other screen; or so they say.

Best, then, to put the television out the window; to put the table out the window, the cell phone leaping at last, laptop and all. It’s not the luddite’s leap of faith. It’s more extraordinary than that, and less. After all we would board up the windows.

But my head is still two monitors. One of them says I must listen to the loop, and the other one says you must listen to voices. What do I say? There is no I, when I am other, a teenage boy, a grown man, a phantom limb, a visionary’s bitch.

It’s been a long ride, brother, and I wonder as I wander. Hope to see you at the crossroads. Well, don’t count on it. I already been down and back. But that was a long time ago, and besides, what kind of fool expects Scratch to hold up his end of the bargain?

Me, that’s who. You.