Psychic anesthesia

I am listening to “Waitin’ For A Superman” on $40 headphones I purchased at an outlet mall.

I visit a place called City Creek the Mormon Church erected in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. I find comfort and a disquieted mind in the sky-touching ceilings, the smooth futuristic flow and the glass, everywhere the glass. I am worshipping in a hypercapitalist cathedral simply by stepping into the place. I ooh and aah at the displays and the diamonds and the fountain. This place is only futuristic to 14-year-old me. To 32-year-old me it is simply uncomfortable present.

Jeff Buckley’s “Last Goodbye” is rich and haunting through the $40 headphones from a brand called Skull Candy.

I am now listening to “Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth).” When I was a teenager I thought the song was meant to make one’s teeth hurt (which would mean the anesthesia wasn’t working I suppose). I believe I clung to this myth because Alan Nichols, a guy who could actually play some Metallica songs (or at least a couple of cool riffs) on guitar said so. Even now I imagine I feel my teeth ache to Cliff Burton’s distorted bass solo (take one).

I am sitting in a living room watching a one-hour video of logs burning in a fireplace.

I attend a rally at the Utah capitol building. The rally is for clean air. Many persons are wearing masks. Basic masks, gas masks, respirator masks.

I am living in the future. The air is too toxic for our present-day lungs. Reality is too much for our fragile bodies and psyches. Our fireplaces must be safe pixelations.

3 thoughts on “Psychic anesthesia

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