Movies come like torrential summer rains. One after the other, into our temporal memory. No way to remember them next summer, save for the one or two who will "win" the race for the Oscar.
Our culture has become saturated with icons and slogans, with authors and composers, with hitters and pitchers and sliders. It is the sheer numbers of them, who is to even try to keep track of them all?
Even the most serious messages are relegated to one or another arcane cable channel. Cultural segmentation into strata's of network or paid channels, from print to magazine, and alas, to the old texts.
Competition for a few seconds of aware attention, for more of more, for media time in print, audio and video. And then there is the InterNet, the ultimate cacophony of info-glut, the info-commute into the future of dissipated segmentation.
I am no longer able to be an expert in any field of information, no longer do I have the time to concentrate on any one field. It seems that I were to go mad with cyber-knowledge, were it not for that most precious of times, tomorrow's early morning silence! Good Night surfers, get some rest -:)
August 11, 1994