Communication cries out, “Resuscitation, please!”
And why have (those remaining) journalists as well as essayists begun to “affect” sentence fragments? (But such a phenomenon may annoy only this reader?) All literature seems a casualty of word-wars and kindles by now. Which leads me to reveal my grief regarding the demise of possibly the only viable language form remaining. The “art” of conversation. (Pardon my fragments!)
Recently I posted within my Facebook-rectangular-space the following “status”: “PBS re-ran, for the umpteenth time, THE KENNEDYS, circa 1992. This quasi-maligning political piece lightly touched upon the entire clan. However, and for always, to my mind, Jack and Jackie remain above the fray–such fabulous faces, charisma, character–BEAUTIFUL! Both continue to drive Republican-types crazy! Now, just why is that? This ‘first-couple’ will never, not ever, be duplicated either, though many have tried and will continue to do so.” No texting nor even trendy sentence fragments. Fairly groovy.
Of course, I was conversing with no one in particular, yet hundreds at once. I actually received only two responses because the post appeared about 6 A.M. and got lost at the very bottom of the scroll as the day wore on, or since other participants–rushing to work or waking up young families for inconceivably nutritious breakfasts or pursuing deep-sea diving off the Bahamas–may have been far too occupied to reply. Had I written, though, at any point during the day, “Just returned from pedicure” and sent the message via black-berry tweeting, the generated stream-of-consciousness entries, though incredibly brief, would flood in and amass beneath my terse “on the run” entry. Takes one to know one!
This past week-end offered a twist on our “Hi–Gotta Go–Bye!” frantic society now technologized to the maximum. I shared an ever-so-brief, properly perfunctory, almost twitter-ish, cinematic review: “ANGELS & DEMONS? Ha! Can derive more pleasure figuring out a maze-game printed on the back of a cereal box. Protesters? Only the critics. Good Cardinal–bad Cardinal, all around the town! Shot in Rome ? More like Director Ron Howard’s back yard in L.A. Wanted to like it…but no go! Statuary molded from Styrofoam. Helicopter sequence lacked one element: overwrought, vintage Hollywood gangster Jimmy Cagney squealing, ‘Top o’ the world, Ma!’” (Notice an abundance of sentence fragments? Cool.)
In this world of swine flu epidemics, avalanching economic collapse, and all-around general upheaval, my quick take, evaluating a clueless Tom Hanks portraying the ineffectual symbologist Robert Langdon floundering about in a meandering mess of a movie plot saddled with an incomprehensible script, garnered a genuine movie reviewer’s enthusiasm–in Facebook City no less. Our lives are are so hurried lately that said critic relied on my appraisal and has yet to purchase her ticket and pop-corn! Gotta love instant messaging!
Please, somebody somewhere? Furnish me with a blackberry and teach me to tweet, as the less said the better and ASAP at that! Thus, grudgingly, I shall reduce my thought processes, my desire to just talk, my writing to 146 character sound-bite sentence fragments. Stenography returns!
Wanna re-visit the supremely necessary and fulfilling “art” of give-and-take, the land of conversing “1 with another”. Wish to enjoy the attentive reading of complete sentences within paragraphs appearing inside paper-back or cloth-bound books. Hoping to continually sniff that inky newsprint gracing crinkly pages “pulped” from fallen forests! Ah, felled trees? A possible topic for some future day and of monumental interest to wood-land creatures, such as squirrels, chipmunks and birdies…tweet, tweet! Sorta feel sorry “4 all of us”.