Frank Corcoran

It´s very early still; mist on the garden trees caused by ( Mussolini´s fault? ) Lake Corbara, the older farmers insist.It´ll rise later as the killing sun moves in. Yes. In a world of hype. In an age of scopology, of gawking, seeing is believing. In this century of ( apparently ) looking ( – it´s too lazy even to be and become reading, registering, replying with eyes wide shut to any deeper reality ) the visual, therefore film, video, you-and-me Tubing and FaceDeBooking and Twittering and Teething and Twitting reign supremo. So the art of listening hasn´t a look in, the arts of sound, of sounding, of music in any even modest form ( I forget De New Dirt, Technowrapping or shtomping or electro-screeching, yowling of all imperious or impertinent kinds… ). No interest. No presence in a world of peeping, gawking hype. Hype on. The mist also rises. The sun is sneaking.