Cave man is a mega telly addict. And to be honest I’m beginning to envy his obsession.
I flit from task to task, engaging with the hum drum he devotes night and day to the box. Without deviation or interruption.
With a gargantuan appetite, he devours episode after episode, series after series. I’ve yet to discover the thing that would consume me in this way.
A bewildering kaleidoscope of colours and mutant life forms flicker over the cave walls. Armageddon with pearly teeth, frowny-faced men throwing punches and grenades, pencil slim women frozen in youth. Behind their pretty visage desperation glitters. Multiple screens are permanently on – one is just not enough.
Telly addiction eclipses all other hunger. Black coffee, sugar and toast satisfies the basic nutritional requirements. There’s barely a need to pee let alone chat. The bedroom was abandoned long ago in favour of slipping in and out of sleep on the sofa.
Shrouded in tobacco smoke, things have lost their defined shape, linear time is circumvented. Hitler wins the war.
Telly is as relentless as the seasons,
rolling night into day, non stop,
Whether you like it or not.
Addiction allows no time to pause, savour the details or anticipate what comes next. In the temple of the telly god, devotion is slavish and questions are discouraged. No picking apart the plot, analysing the subtext, nothing must pierce this bubble.
Grey skies of Ulster are overhead, but you wouldn’t know it here because the blinds are tight shut.
I have come to respect this escapism. I’m even wondering if I should jump ship — what’s the point of persevering with reality. Is it madness to stick with the month by month adventure of making ends meet, keeping reasonable hours, trying to find sense in it all.
At night the house squeals and shudders with bomb blasts and screeching brakes, emotional reunions and showdowns, searing violins and gruffly voices.
But cave man slumbers sweetly with the cat dozing on his chest. And I am left to toss and turn and wonder – why I am the only one not sleeping.