Flicker

Somewhere during Celine Dion's performance I lost all interest of watching the Oscars. Somehow the glitz and glamour of huge white snowflakes coating downtown New York was more captivating than guessing what movies were in the montages (and which ones should have been) or watching painted faces smile forcefully at the camera... I opened the window and looked out across the stillness and silence... through the white haze noticed dozens of lights flickering the same colors at the same time in separate apartments, in fact in apartments hundreds of yards away from each other... In the window below, across the street, over in the penthouse, behind semi-transparent curtains, off the faces sitting on couches... all illuminated by the broadcast of the Academy Awards. Each television a vessel, an escape, a dream. There is a reason Hollywood is massive. There is a reason we dedicate ourselves to telling these stories... the ones in black box theaters, the ones on silver screens, the ones inside virtual characters... it wasn't the Oscars that everyone was watching... sure they watch the popularity contest, but in the end, we, the reflection, are watching them... looking out and wondering - do you feel like I do? can we laugh together? will you hear what I'm saying?... am I saying anything at all?... We are always saying something. Even when we're silent. I especially enjoy the kind indicating Celine's performance is over.