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As I stare into my crystal ball I wonder just what the future holds for me. Or maybe I’m only traveling into the past. A time before technology, the Internet, and rack-and-pinion steering; into a cycle like the waterfall’s only not nearly as natural. One of those artificial fountains in the mall that are too contemporary and decorative to bother granting the penny-wishes I throw at them. Or like an escalator that carries you up to the skies of judgement or down to the bottomless fiery depths, constantly climbing to eternity’s end, or at least until the gears jam and the electricity gives out. Was there history before television? Or was a past fabricated to accompany the image that’s cut into billions of pieces and sent by Wonka-vision to your home for only $24.95 a month? Remember, “If it bleeds, it leads”,3 out of 4 people is 75% of the population, and I really don’t care if Mr. Gambino the car salesman wants to say Hi! to his mom on the local cable network. Am I really here or merely a character in a book who can see the past because she is constantly existing in it? Smashed between the thin pages like a dried rose from some special occasion, destined to relive the same day over and over for the person who dog-eared his favorite passage. Condemned to a 2-dimensional life ever since the first savoring of Eve’s sweet pomegranate. Or maybe 2 out of 3 psychologists are right: Dentyne does last longer, but only in the mind. Hmmm...very eenteresting What does this inkblot look like to you? If I were a bird what kind of bird would I be? I can tell you I’d rather be a parakeet than a peacock. What good is beauty if you can’t fly? I’d prefer to be penned up in a cage singing to my master than to be dazzling with no use at all. And sometimes...sometimes if you’re good...they let you out and you can fly. Although, I have to admit, I’d rather have a friend than a mirror to talk to, and spending my days on a swing isn’t exactly my idea of productivity. I can’t be living in a movie because I can’t hear the cheesy background music. And I’d give it 4 stars for potential, but everybody’s a critic. As the camera pulls back from the close-up the big picture comes into view, a breathtaking landscape. Is the sun rising or setting? I believe it’s rising even though I think sunsets are more romantic. Press pause and go get your movie-buttered popcorn and official Olympic-sponsoring soda. I’ll be here waiting for you, just don’t forget to remember me. Lisa Game, 1999 |