Glow

Look at the many things I have bought. Admire them. Observe them. Take note and stroke them. Sense their tactile sensations. Silver things and shiny things and shiny silver shiny things, safe in their original plastic wrapping. Stackable things, packable things, rows and rows of easily rackable things. Box sets of trilogies, shelf-fulls of seasons, catalogues of back-catalogues, completed works of era-defining oeuvres; alphabetised, eulogised, chronologised and deified. Sit with me and we shall watch outtakes of deleted scenes with director's commentaries and extra behind the scenes footage of cast interviews never before seen with screennotes and hidden easter egg bonus web update features, subtitled and surtitled in the full complement of foreign languages. Minor works, major works, works of art and works in progress, I have them all and play them on 42" widescreen technology. Turn a blind eye to the outmoded, ignore the incompaitable byproducts of the past, cast your eye from the carcasses of outdated technology, sitting forgotten on self-assembled storage solutions, discarded and rotting in their tinny plastic; once the smooth minimilism of the future, they are as forward thinking as the apocalypse. Bask in the glow of full high definition, absorb and be lost in 5.1 surround sound, cry no more unless someone else is watching, this is the age of light, of vision, of ones and zeros and on and off. Lose yourself in the white noise, it's as close to heaven as you're going to get.