The Next Faze

This was written in September of 2011; an oldie by an oldie.

The Next Faze

By Charles Kraus

Having recently retired, I find myself being exposed to a day-world, with a pace, character, and citizenry that is going to take a little getting used to.  So this is what the rest of you have been up to while I slaved away downtown?    

The particular mid-morning universe into which I now journey seems to be populated by a meandering species of gray-haired pensioners, plus moms with young children.  Physical characteristics notwithstanding, I have no sense of belonging to either group.

The high point of my day, something I’m particularly proud to reveal, is that I have honored a promise I made to myself, way back when.  Yes, despite the gasps of disbelieve, it is true, I now exercise daily at the local gymnasium.

The stationary bicycle is hard on the knees.  The various machines, one evidently designed to perfect each and every component in the human physique, are more serviceable than energizing.   It is the treadmill upon which I find true invigoration.  By pressing buttons, I can walk uphill, downhill, faster and faster, even simulate running, as if being chased by a hoard of paparazzi, and – this part is the most fascinating aspect of the 2.5 miles that I traverse within the confines of my motorized promenade – I get to stare at 9 television screens mounted conspicuously just where the eyes of a speed walker come to rest if and when he coaxes them from the various reports available on the treadmill dashboard.

It is difficult to avoid inspecting those 9 screens.  Some folks place a book on the console and read as they walk.  That gives me a headache.   I intend to purchase an MP3 player and use my stroll-time to enjoy educational lectures.  This is a self-promise not yet executed.   For now, it is to the screens that the mind is attracted.

These TV monitors provide samples, show after show, moment after moment, commercial after commercial, of …  Though tempted, I’m not going into a Sunday school lecture about the corruption of  values and the dilution of reason.  I suspect that would just reveal my naiveté.   I don’t even own a tattoo, and am therefore probably not qualified to comment about contemporary social issues.  I’ll say only that my media sampling does far more to raise my blood pressure and stimulate aerobic brain dysfunction than any treadmill I’ve ever mounted. 

I removed my headset today and just let my eyes taken in the visual aspects, roving from screen to screen.  I saw endless talk shows featuring women who were crying.  Various programs extolling the benefits of public shame, of playing with guns, of jumping up and down like excited children when the participants in question were merely grownups extravagantly emotional about their appearance on an inconsequential game show.

           Rapidly shifting my gaze from set to set, I noticed the same commercials running on 2, 3 or even 4 stations at approximately but not quite the same times.  This was great, because if, while watching monitor #3, you missed part of a pharmaceutical manufacturer’s 45 second disclaimer cataloguing a medical dictionary-length confessional of potential side-effects such as death, near-death, cancer, liver disease, heart failure, unconsciousness, suicidal inclinations and/or the onset of severe flatulation, possibly caused by the extolled product, you could catch the missing revelations on monitor #7.

This retirement business is going to take some getting used to.  Right now, I’m going to try to calm down, take my Finasteride and my Losartan Potassium, and hope I don’t develop a rare side-effect such as obsessive reminiscence syndrome.