No more TV. Not even videos. Today at about 4:25,
I set about fastening the door on my TV/VCR
cabinet. First I removed the cassette I made
in Ohio, that had demos of my work from graduate
school, and another anti-advertising piece made
while in Bowling Green. That had been the last
tape I watched. I flipped down the Che Guevara
visor that filters light from the screen and pushed
the foundling TV back so I could shut the doors.
Glancing at the VCR, while the doors closed, I could
see its led readout blinking 00:00pm.
The cabinet was something I made during the
summer before college. Its purpose was to protect
my stereo system and CD collection: the fruits of
much labor mowing lawns in mid-Michigan. It stands
rather high, since it was also designed around the
mini-refrigerator that was allowed in dorm rooms
at the University of Michigan. That part of the
cabinet now contains my guitar amplifier, and has
collected dust most months since I decided I preferred
what my group, Artskool, calls "acousticore."
I fumbled for the key to the cabinet. Only one
remained and, amazingly, was still on my key chain.
It was bent. I noticed a fissure. Nonetheless I stuck
it in and turned it around a bit. But it didn't seem to
be the right key. Looking over the bulletin board and
the various keys pinned to it, I sized up the likeliest
candidates. Nope. This had to be the right one. I glanced
nervously at the somewhat ill-used key. It was very short and
probably couldn't be duped. Not a typical model.
Fatefully, I tried one more time to get the lock to
turn. This time it moved and locked the cabinet.
Carefully I extracted the key. It was intact, but barely.
Clearly one more recidivism will be the end of this key.
So it is now an indoor mausoleum, a standing coffin, with
television, Che-visor, an assortment of videos inside.
The cabinet is now an indoor counterpart to Bert
Hornback's backyard television burial of the 1980s,
in Ann Arbor. I can't say I will really miss it, knowing
its terrible character, and imagining no end to its decline into
the crassest and most invasive registers of symbol shuffling.
I would bury sooner than move it to my next abode....
if I had a back yard. |