But what of the losses. I thought I might be left bereft with all the bookmarks and memories that piled up and piled up in "favorites" bin. Then, in a single moment, they were gone. What is that like ... when everything is gone? I thought I might feel the less without them, but the strange thing was, like books on a shelf, there was an odd sense that I didn't really miss them at all. Very odd.
"All it takes is a couple of days without it and the addiction lets up," my older son, Angus, said.
All those links to news, spiritual life, movies and blah-blah-blah piled slophonus-fashion in the "favorites" bin. Gone. "But what if I needed them?" something shrieked within?
After several days without them, the mirror question raised its head: "What if I didn't need them?" True, I learned quickly that television was no place to look for the amount and kind of news I expected ... there is no news on the television news shows.
I mean that literally and it surprised me. Each outlet -- CBS, NBC, ABC or whatever -- seems to provide three news stories, perhaps, and then the three or four talking heads -- tastefully balanced with racial minorities, mixed sexes, capped teeth, fashion-statement clothes and vapid opinions -- talking about what to fucking eat or how to arrange your sock drawer. And smiles that would blind a dead horse. OK... no news. And difficulty signing in here and there. There was no serious news.
And there were the endless, endless ads I hope to eradicate ... if I get around to it. Bit by bit, I inch back. Two steps forward and one step back. All I need is a savvy teenager to show me the way ... my family doesn't care much what I want as long as they can shop. Sometimes the selfishness gets to me, but what the hell, it's too late now.
What is it like when everything is gone? I don't know. It seems like everything appears. I will have to reconfigure the day, but since there's not much on my plate, that shouldn't be all that hard. But since I am getting weaker, "hard" is a relative term.