Nesting Essays

this bit of philosophical and true writing is told in two voices

   The first thing you should know, I suppose, is that I don't watch TV and I don't listen to a radio (because I don't own one). So that may change the tone here a bit for you. I recently discovered, after much time spent looking at memes, reading news and books and stories, watching gifs and videos, et cetera, I discovered that media does not overwhelm me anymore.

     This is a new thing. I appreciate the books and stories still, the music and maybe the rest - I still look at it nearly every day.

     Not all day by a long stretch (not anymore), but every day.

     And it does not overwhelm me now, not even the stupid or scary things. Sometimes I wonder why that is, but not for long, because yesterday I asked myself - what is it that media does to me, then? I think it just washes through, like a river of bytes and images and creativity and destruction.

     Yet it doesn't feel like it changes me as much now. The only thing I can say I worry about is possible mind-erosion from too large a flow.

I.

     {...and i could fix that, if only i didn't have to give up cigarettes. if only they wouldn't kill me, i could smoke and relax a minute between flutters of images and words. i'd light one right now - because i want to read what i wrote so far and to fix it, and i used to smoke whenever i did that. but the truth is i haven't smoked in years because i coughed nearly all the time and had to stop. but they seem so  lovely sometimes - at least as welcome a river as media...}

     I can't create the things I see and read these days, barring a short story now and then, maybe even what some may call a poem, but that doesn't make much difference. Not really. It used to leave me wide-eyed whenever I saw some image or gif somebody made, and any "moving pictures" (lol) and all that stuff that erupts on this screen every day. I tried to soak it all in.

II.

     {...but i can't smoke after such a media "meal" anymore. i can't even smoke after literal meals anymore. and i see that very few people do that now; they don't smoke like they used to, like i used to. i liked everything about the habit: the inhale, the exhale, the stream of smoke spiraling up, the glowing tip, a clean-ish ashtray, the precious full pack...}

     Media is not soaked in or overwhelming now. But I suspect that it washes through me, and that it has an accumulative result. I sometimes picture a gully or two in my head, little influences that remain in my mind. Perhaps a *news flash* or a meme or a paragraph or something similar are all flowing through my mind. Some of them aren't even identified. However, I must realize what comes next after a gully is made.

III.

     {...and when i get nervous - and nervous i do get - a cigarette was one of my best friends. i could sit back, light one with a cool lighter and take a moment to myself. yes, smoking is a rather selfish thing - i mean, who likes second-hand smoke? and what happens to white paint on a wall if i smoke by it all the time? and a cough, i can't forget that. but the act of smoking - it seduces...}

     Years ago, I spent a lot of time living in the country, rough living, so to speak, because it was identical to camping out, even with a generator or a more sophisticated shelter around me. I was still way back in the country, no electricity, no indoor plumbing worth writing about - you get it: rough living. I liked it very much and mostly stayed there for years.

     But the results were two-fold. I rarely saw any TV or news or movies and all, so when I did, all of that got my full attention. I mean, full. It overwhelmed. It did that for years. And I also saw what happened to erosive land in real time. A thing that was once a gully was prone, downstream, to become an arroyo big enough to put a car in. What does this say about media and me now?

IV.

     {...when i lived there i rolled my own cigarettes. i didn't much care; it was no bother. yet still, when i could buy a pack of rolled cigs, it made me happier. then i lived in cities and could smoke almost anywhere as long as there was a safe place for ashes and filters. i thought smoking not only made me look cool, it helped me be cool. i could write better and more often, because i had wonderful smoking breaks every little while. it seemed to give me more clarity of mind. but it got to where i coughed a terrible, racking cough because of that habit with those lovely cigarettes...}

     When I think about it, I know I don't want any arroyos in my head. What protection should I have from media? Time, I think. Time to form strong opinions about many things, including what music I like, what book I really want to read next, which news teams to listen to most, what poems and stories I ought to let flow in and settle in my mind, gently, lightly.

     I'm of an opposite opinion about news, it seems. I think it's all 'real' until comparisons and information say otherwise. There is no 'fake' news. There's real news and always a propaganda of sorts. Then there's entertainment. And mind-expanding creativity by others in mediums of all kinds, to whom I give thanks.

V.

     {...and all i really want to know about smoking is: when the hell will an urge to light one go away, all the way away?...}

     So, what I think about media is: Welcome in, you scamp you, and let me find what I like about you and send the rest out.    

Author's Note

Is it easy to follow both voices?
Do I have it in the right category?
What's you overall reaction?
Thanks for reading!

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I read it through once, then went back and skimmed a little in an effort to really understand all that was said. (I have an odd need to understand things, and suck badly at abstract writing. Or art.) Smoking, media, arroyos, and off grid living--I can dig it all, or once did, at least.
After heart surgery at age 43, I quit the ciggies. It took about a year and a half for the urge to puff went away. Then it didn't just go away, but became sickening to smell.
I sensed two voices, but both coming from the same person--one external and the other, internal. On the subject of media, I would probably be like you and avoid a lot of it if my health wasn't so bad. Pre-bad health days, I spent my evenings after work in the garage, working on motorcycles or in a spare bedroom painting pictures. Sometimes, I'd play guitar with a buddy. Nowadays, I slump on the couch in the evenings and try to find something on tv to watch that doesn't insult my intelligence or drain IQ. I have a little energy in the mornings, and that's when I can do stuff like writing this review.
I enjoyed this piece. It's well-written and the subject appeals.

[LJ]

I'm so sorry your health is bad. From what I read, you were an active man. I'm glad you have a little "energy in the mornings" at least. And memories.
Yes, there are two voices here, external and internal. Both are trying to come to terms with either media or no-more-cigarettes. I'm very glad you enjoyed this. Because this site didn't keep the spaces between each voice, it's a little hard to read. Still, your appreciation here means a lot, and I'm happy.

[Unspoken poet]

I love the part of rolling cigarettes, lots of imagery in this and detail.
I remember my step father rolling his at first I thought he was rolling a joint... LOL

[LJ]

Thank you! I worried about the two voices here being distinct enough, since writerscafe didn't keep the blank lines that were between them.

[Unspoken poet]

if you copy and paste your work from word or where ever it won't leave lines in between.

[LJ]

And as far as I can tell, you can't put the lines back in between. Oh dear.