Still, some of the images do stick. At night they replay in an endless loop on my bedroom ceiling. Most times I can roll over and feign rest until I fall asleep. I’m betting the homicide detectives I know have an even harder time shutting down that particular hit parade. But I do wonder what my own accelerated intake of other people’s peril is doing to my psyche. I am, after all, a man of limited education. Most of what I know of this world came to me through a television news lens. Before signing on as a TV stevedore, I had little grasp of crime scene protocol, didn’t know just how crazy they were at City Hall, had never visited a homeless person’s underpass campground. Now that I’ve endured all this in spades, where does it leave me? Far more experienced in the ways of the world, but still not sure what to make of all the data I‘ve collected.
Forgo all pretense of proper framing. Silence the familiar inner chant of wide-medium-tight. To try and control the actions of two dozen hyped-up two year olds is a lesson in futility. You may as well try herding cats. You’ll come back with much better footage if you simply lose the sticks, shoulder up and roll with the moment. You’ll have plenty of chances to forge new ground in news lens cinematography at tomorrow’s drive-by shooting. Just don’t be late - the lead investigators don’t like repeating themselves.
1 comment:
I enjoy reading your stories. Thanks for taking the time to write them and to submit them to the Tavern.
Post a Comment