HIGHLIGHTS
MODERN MEDIA
By Andrea Stelzner
As I am walking out the door of my apartment, I am welcomed by several plumbers¡¯ and electricians¡¯ adverts: Competing to attract my attention are black and red telephone numbers glued to the staircase wall. They must have added a new one, I tell myself, how come I notice them today, while I pass-by them every morning? I should know some by heart, but the numbers form an image in my visual memory with all its layers merged. It would be a fun experiment to create a song by putting these telephone numbers on a sheet of music: The number 7 stands for a ¡°C¡±, etc... or I could call¡ and listen to the voice of the person on the other end. But imagine ?C some ads have been up there for a while - if they¡¯ve become dead lines, no one worker who¡¯ll be there and help fix my electricity.
My electric bicycle takes me passed a supermarket the front windows of which are entirely covered with sales ads ?C I vaguely remember the times when you could actually check the weather outside while shopping for groceries and change the items as the clouds would lift. Rather than cultivating a headache over which brand might be more authentic and healthy, while loudspeakers continuously praise goods you aren¡¯t interested in, the shopping chart squeaking, a long line in front of the cashier, a ray of sun shines in. That would be too much distraction from the shelves.
Little pink ¡®n blue flags with glossy little characters printed on them are waving at me as somebody hands me name-card sized airline ads while I am waiting for the traffic lights to turn green. Over there is ¡°my¡± street stall entirely covered in colourful magazines clipped to a steal frame, each covering half the other¡¯s front page they look very rainproof. Impossible to communicate with the salesperson of telephone cards through her airtight shelter, but luckily I come here more often. She knows me and what I want to buy, murmuring the usual, I wait for a hand to appear with my IP card, when a middle aged man in the assumption that I want to buy print media, offers me three newspapers for the price of two. I am not sure which ones they are, but they¡¯re cheap. My cell phone recharged, I feel a surge of physical energy: connected to the world, I feel that I exist.
On time in the office, my movements are preset in the following order: switch on the hot water machine, then the computer and check the telephone¡¯s answering machine (in winter I switch on the lights first, of course). My PC¡¯s anti-virus programme runs automatically every night, so I have a fresh start without commercial pop-ups. They seem to have developed a special skill to slip through virus filters, shields and blockers, however: It takes me 10 minutes to recover some of my e- mail which has landed in the My Spam Box, and to delete the messages promoting potency enhancing pills and other bullocks.
We¡¯re having our weekly meeting this morning. The head of department reads out aloud a new document that sounds familiar to me. I search my bag for something interesting to do and pull out the newspapers, my mobile phone and the medicine my mother-in-law gave me: summary of last night¡¯s television news broadcasting, no new SMS and a page full of side-effects.
We¡¯re still sitting there, but somehow I feel we¡¯re getting closer to the end of this session.
Lunch in the canteen under three blasting loud monitors announcing the latest NBA scores, repeating a soap opera and reporting the latest news of a flood wave ?C it is impossible to follow the details, the sound is turned up so loud you¡¯re listening stereo + one.
In the afternoon, the students and I are off to the countryside to do some landscape painting. Sitting in the back of the bus, I have to move my head from the left to the right to switch between channel 1 (The Return of the Red Lantern) and channel 2 (a car race on the highway through a well known environment). I switch subtitles, too: ¡°Lao Daye, protect our families¡¯ secret of the Dragon Cave, our future will depend on it¡±, and in white chalk on the earthen brick walls outside: ¡°The forest¡¯s safety is the responsibility of the people.¡± When the DVD suddenly turns mosaic, then stops, a heavy-duty silence fills the bus ?C somebody puts on a music tape.
My wife asks me during dinner, if I had a nice day, but I really can¡¯t tell. Somehow moved in between different time zones and places; I am not sure which one she¡¯d like to hear about, and my imagined world seems much nicer if I don¡¯t sort the pictures. Best to pretend I didn¡¯t hear her question.
We used to talk more when we just got married, but I guess we both gave up believing our discussion would bring any changes.
If only the constant exposure to the advertisement of beauty products would make me look more attractive¡ I think to myself washing my feet as the mirror throws a short glance at me...
