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Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's Bête Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com
Monday, June 06, 2005
FOREBODING
9 days ago, a week ago last Sunday, my beloved spouse was at work, as is her Sunday routine. The 2-year-old and I went to Seattle Center to catch some of Seattle’s annual folk music festival. At the center is a permanent amusement park. Since there were no musical acts I was itching to catch, we went on the carousel. The 2-year-old is too small to go by himself. So I stood with my arm around him as he went up and down and we went round and round, listening to the canned, electronic calliope music. “Turkey in the Straw” or some such merry number was playing. It was a grey afternoon with a big crowd of people going through, and I realized that the countless TV shows about Omniscient Cops had trained me to associate the music and noise and sight of a merry-go-round with foreboding and danger, and I instinctively searched the crowd for murderers.
Sometimes I hate TV.
9 days ago, a week ago last Sunday, my beloved spouse was at work, as is her Sunday routine. The 2-year-old and I went to Seattle Center to catch some of Seattle’s annual folk music festival. At the center is a permanent amusement park. Since there were no musical acts I was itching to catch, we went on the carousel. The 2-year-old is too small to go by himself. So I stood with my arm around him as he went up and down and we went round and round, listening to the canned, electronic calliope music. “Turkey in the Straw” or some such merry number was playing. It was a grey afternoon with a big crowd of people going through, and I realized that the countless TV shows about Omniscient Cops had trained me to associate the music and noise and sight of a merry-go-round with foreboding and danger, and I instinctively searched the crowd for murderers.
Sometimes I hate TV.
Comments:
I think Hitchcock's famous finale in Strangers On A Train was the template for this.
Jay
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Jay
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