Sunday, September 28, 2014

It




It can come into you at any time.
You can feel hollow, dried out,
defeated.
It can come into you.
You might not know it,
but it will be there,
a subtle happiness in the blood,
a bit of color in the dark.
It can happen. 
You might be like a tattered flag
waving on the bastion of a weary
and lost cause;
it can come to you.
It can knit the fabric of your being,
seal the holes in your soul,
it can do that.
When your breathing labors
as you climb the steep mountain
and you think you have no steps left in you,
it can lift you further. 
It can do that for you.
You might not be looking for it;
you might not know it exists;
you might have forgotten it;
you may never have known it,
tasted it, longed for it.
It will find you, remind you,
show you what is beautiful,
prove to you what is worthwhile,
make your worst fear
bearable.
It can do anything. 
It can come into you
when you deny it ever existed.
It can enter you
when you have done your utmost
to banish it from your heart.
It will find a way to your heart.
It finds ways, always. 
It knows
what you are,
what you have been,
what you will become. 
It can come into you
at any time.
It is already in you,
it never left you,
it is here.  

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

The Worst Shows On Television



Art Rosch
Copyright 2014


         
          There is no worst show on TV.  There are a plethora of disgusting, heinous, exploitive and dishonest shows.  Trying to chose one is like sticking my hand down a fairground Portapotty.
          I won't do it.  I have neither the courage nor the desire.  I've watched some shit, to be sure.  I've watched TV shit out of curiosity, morbid humor, a sense of snobbish superiority.  I've watched TV junk for a lot of reasons.  I wanted to bring a report back from the Front, from the cesspool of modern broadcast entertainment.
          I can't do it.  I descended the circles of Hell until my nerve failed.  I watched HOARDERS.  I watched the inane chatter of The Kardashians.  I watched as America's fixation on puke, pee and poop exploded out of the Big Screen and landed on my defenseless psyche.
          I watched Rob Dyrdek's RIDICULOUSNESS in which teenagers addle their essence by launching themselves into tricks that crunch their skulls and explode their scrotums. I watched kids do the "don't try this at home" stunts purveyed by Johnny Knoxville (and don't get me wrong, I laugh and wince too).
          The veil between television and internet is very thin.  Youtube weirdness ends up on Daniel Tosh's hilarious show.  Uploaded videos are all over the television landscape, pockmarking  the Cable Universe with ridiculousness.
          It seems as though the Lowest Common Denominator gets lower all the time.  As the world's population explodes so do the number of niche market Reality TV shows, most of which are carefully scripted and engineered to stretch fifteen minutes of content across an hour of commercials for smartphones, cars, cosmetics and fast food.
          I quailed at watching MY 600 POUND LIFE.  I feel for Melissa's situation.  I know about weight problems.  But I couldn't watch the show. It was transparently exploitive.  Let's just give the "Worst TV" ribbon to HERE COMES HONEY BOO BOO and stop there.  I'm not sure why this boring insipid show is on television and the fact that it gets renewed for another season makes me sad.  Very sad.  Maybe we have been hypnotized by Big Mama's cross-eyed gaze, as she fixates on the progress of the giant zit at the bridge of her nose.  I don't know what it is.  People watch it.  They love it!
          God help us all.


Tuesday, September 23, 2014