On Demand
the new way to access what we want. on demand. quicker than instant pudding. more powerful than super-ultra cleaners. a newer invention than microwaves, more convenient than a TV dinner, faster than a Commodore 64 and more powerful than Minute Rice. our digital super sonic world of information vacuum packs bits and bytes into nanosecond invisible transmitters of instant self-gratification.
impatient people tapping glass keyboards taking much too much time to download an entire cinema quality film in the privacy of the loo. frustrated with the slowness of a reply from another province or office cubicle down the way—humans taking too long to consider a thoughtful reply.
virtual reality of court cases, what used to be private relationships, security breaches and hilarious practical jokers of real life people and their conflicts airing stained britches and other unsightly objects of the human condition. not to mention the continuous looping of nosey newsy stories. within seconds it becomes old news because there is something more threatening on location at a new location to scare us out of our panties.
shopping till the dropping of the parcel on the stoop, credit cards bulging with evidence of undisclosed emotional pain flowing through lifeblood of daughters and sons of Adam. constantly seeking and yearning for meaning or purpose or success. the adrenalin rush of funds recirculating consumer earning whirlpools. lost is the recirculation of planting harvesting. when the black soil burst alive with sprouts which produced the yellow kernels, portioned to be spent again and the yield weighed out in elevators and traded for a paper cheque.
it pays to drop out of society’s malls and toss out unread flyers pushing the weekly retail drug of choice. it all winds up at the bottom of next year’s garage sale—displayed in dusty back alleys and at one percent of the price—without the extra garbage of plastic packaging to deal with at the recycler.
without. the fuss and bother of mortgages and cell phone contracts and tax breaks weighs down the mind and emotions—plugging love and creative juices from flowing where they were meant to be spent.
Donna Lynne Erickson
