Introspection and the drain on our lesser prophets: Who’s running the show?

brennendes himmelmoorThis article (“Being Busy Is Killing Our Ability to Think Creatively” by Derek Beres) prompted this post:

It never ceases to amaze me that those who most need quiet and introspection—those we rely on to be the lesser prophets in this modern world, with a measure of eloquence and insight—are forced to spend their limited resources, precious to us, indulging in behaviors anathema to their personalities. These people, by and large, are not socially driven. Good observers of the party, yes, not the life of it.

And here, today, consumers insist their artists work in a state of constant noise, that they daily post, tweet, and ruminate publicly (and punish artists severely if they get it wrong). Hey! Folks! This is insane! Who’s running this show? I’m beginning to think those operators aren’t our friends. Ever thought of that? At what table did they sit during the pubescent lunch hour?

Yeah, artists, you’d better check your envy while viewing all those cheerful faces NOTsmiling-atyou.

And how will this unnatural demand to speak to the electronic four walls–well-known to trigger anxiety and depression–affect our artists’ ability to reflect upon the state of the world? Dampen it? Dull them? Mute them? Because they’re too overexposed and exhausted to hold a thought?

Twisted clock face close up. infinite time conceptWhat happens when this happens?

Don’t you know? Are you enjoying the experiment?

Who’s running the show?

“Oh, well, if only I hadn’t spent the last two hours editing that post on Fluffy’s latest escapades. But gotta get some likes! Platform’s small! Nooo money….noooo… money…. Aw, man, I’m way down on the likes…. I don’t know any of these people…. Yes, yes, please do have a nice trip, you whoever, maybe I’ll get to go out to dinner by next month… or the one after…. Jeez, look how unpopular I am! Who would have guessed?… Who would ha… well, duh, everybody….

“Damn! I can’t remember my idea…. Had one. And it was a good one, too… I still feel it in there, kicking around, or like that little itch out of reach just between my shoulder blades… Cursed tip-of-tonguekeeps on happening to ME!… A vision, I feel it was…. I feel it was something… yes, something… special.


“Wait, what? Doom???…. What doom?…. It’s just that I can’t quite recall, you see, been busy…. Eh, oh well…. Why, hello, Fluffy, there you are!”

Funny evil white cat with open mouth

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