(no subject)

Is there a point at which the singularity of a life, its experience, any hope we have of empathy, is drowned by its medium of perception? I am reading about video games. I am reading about art. I am clicking I am reading about stupid facebook posts from people i don't know i am reading about twins and their suicide pacts, i am reading that the survivor "refused to tell US authorities why...", as if they owe us an explanation for their pain. Ban the written word, it is too realistic, or it is too distant. Give our children obscene, visceral murder simulators, that simulate everything there is to feel about killing and everything there is about losing someone, so they won't just skim over the headline like we do, or study the text at a detached distance, carefully slotting each character into the box of killer or distressed teen or bully or

( trove )