Garbage In, Garbage Out
Traditionally, the best fertilizer in which to grow flowers has been shit. Excrement in, beauty out. But, I wonder, does the same thing hold for human beings. If you consumed nothing but shit culture would it — could it? — flourish prettily in your mind?
In the past, when we only had four channels, you did something else if there was nothing on. Now, with hundreds of channels, you flick through until you find something worth watching; and if there’s still nothing worth watching, you watch a DVD or play a video game or go on the internet — just so long as there is a screen between you and reality. Tom told me that he worried that by stopping his son from watching telly he might be stifling the next Adam and Joe, a duo who have made a career from talking about rubbish films and television. But for every Adam and Joe there are a thousand bores in the pub talking about Rainbow.
Perhaps I am easily led astray, but I have found myself severely affected by Celine’s Journey to the End of the Night and it makes me wonder what other effects my cultural consumption might be doing to my soul. Celine’s nihilistic classic is a pleasure to read, but I wake up feeling bleak and nasty. Should I stop reading it and turn to something more wholesome? If so, what is the best fertilizer for the mind?
While I decide, I have gone on another information fast — no internet, no news, no books. It feels like breathing fresh air after being in a confined space for too long. The geek maxim is true: garbage in, garbage out.