A World Later
By Bryan May
Late.
Again. I was late. Again. That’s the way I lived my life-
late for first dates, tardy for job interviews, running
frantically into movie theaters to catch the last preview
while the lights were already off and the seats already
full. Last count was at three the number of times my name
was heard over the loudspeaker announcing, “Bryan May,
please report to Terminal X.” Terminal X. What was even
the point? I never knew where I was going anyway. The way
I cured my ongoing on-time problems was to try and arrive at
my destination not just early, but stupid early. It worked
for a while, particularly at my place of employment. I
simply started getting to work insanely early, that way
there was no traffic, and no chance of me being there late.
“To make up for getting there early, I stayed late.” That’s
one of my old man’s sayings. I figured this behavior would
translate to the rest of my life, but it hasn’t just yet. I
had two formal dinners last week, and I was late to them
both. Today my cousin and I met to shop for crucial items
of secrecy, and I ran ten minutes behind. The items weren’t
crucial, and not too secret either, but the element of
mystery just isn’t out there like it used to be, so why not
try and bring it back? Everything previously hidden is now
exposed, everything quiet has become clamorous, all that was
once modest is now shrouded in vanity. So it is.
Who’s
gonna be at Ad:Tech? You? If so, let’s meet up so I can
apologize for the bland nature of this entry. I tried to
get it spicy, I really did, but I’m just out. Even on
weekends, when I get “plenty” of sleep, I’m exhausted and
relatively devoid of innovative techniques to keep my reader
interested. I could throw some titillating literary
cunnilingo your way, but what’s the point? If I can’t reach
my audience without the use of sex and violence, I don’t
want to reach them at all. Now that I’m on and soon to be
off the topic of sex and violence, what’s up with the
Presidency? Did you vote? Do you care? At least we got a
couple of good Bush-Kerry sweeps offers out of the whole
affair. I used to really dislike Prince. Not dislike him
as a person, just his whole style in general. There was a
Prince-fest on MTV, and I did everything I could do to turn
the channel and not subject myself to his flamboyant ways.
It was the first time I’d sat down in front of a television
in probably a month, and there was nothing decent being
televised. The Prince interview was forthcoming, and I
decided I was curious to hear his non-singing voice for a
minute, so I turned it back. The conversation started with
music and his life and his love, and then the symbol man was
questioned on the subject of film. He was asked about a few
of the summer blockbusters, and about a couple of the
Halloween horror slashfests. His whole scene really turned
me around on him. His response was simple and concise,
consisting of a single theme. He does not like to watch or
think about violent images, and with everything that is
going on in the world, he chooses to only view films of an
upbeat, positive and pleasant nature. Fair enough, but the
especially engaging aspect was that he was so non-judgmental
about it all. To choose not to watch violence and anger
while appreciating and understanding why others would flock
to it was refreshing. And the fact that he was only fond of
things that he felt bettered the world gave me some quality
respect for him.
The Prince of Lightness had distracted me. I was
supposed to pick my brother up ten minutes ago. Damn it, I
finally thought I would have the opportunity to relax for a
few minutes, and here I am off rushing again without a
second to lounge. I’ll hurry, but not too much. Rush, rant
and run. That’s all we do. When does slow-down begin?
When we’re so old and so decrepit that we are forced into
slow-down mode? That’s not cool, being forced to
slow down. Give me the choice, because choices are good.
Oh well, I’m off. And I’m behind. But hey, it’s better to
be late in this world than early to the next.
Bryan May
bmay@emarketmakers.com
