Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Somewhere in the wending avenues of my fevered brain, secreted far away from the dominion of common sense, was this idea that forgoing a delicious dinner at Chipotle granted me the right to purchase a shiny new Xbox 360. How any semblance of parity can exist in this reality, I can’t say for sure, but it just made sense at the time–a desperate, urgent kind of logic I was only too happy to oblige.

Hundreds of dollars and numerous wasted hours later, I’m the bewildered new owner of the latest gaming technology. And you know what? It was everything I had hoped it would be. Not more than a minute gone, and it was all like, “Oh, shits. I think I’m controlling something damn near photorealistic.” I’ve refrained from such electronic entertainments for a good while now, opting instead for ol’ fashioned television shows, but this was the real deal, and like a sailor on shore leave I drank deeply. And once it hits your lips, it’s so good.

But not for long, you see. I plan on giving the little white box a few more days, and then it gets the boot. Why? It’s the same reason I still don’t own a teevee. Both devices are portals to a lifestyle that harbors a very real danger of becoming absolutely unhinged and all consuming. Once you get into a serious groove, it’s over, you know? Showers not taken. Parrot dead. People ignored. Website neglected. Bags of Cheetos ravaged.

I’m trying to paint a quick picture, so you’ll have to excuse the broad strokes. There’s another layer to this discussion, and it’s this idea of media self-consciousness, kinda like, “Alright, I’m consuming this piece of media. How would it appear to an outsider looking into all this?” I’m still craving that burrito, however, so let’s adjourn for the evening. We’ll talk next Wednesday.