What’s the price of glory?
My grandparents had a huge eighteen inch screen television. If I was lucky I would get to go to their house some days after school. There were always push-ups or moon-pies … If I was REALLY lucky, something amazing would be on television. Elvis, or maybe the Rolling Stones. I would have to watch with the volume low, as my Gran didn’t understand the shenanigans of Mr. Jagger. I loved the Monkees, and I remember seeing the Beatles a couple of times … they all did such fantastic things. Not just in their music, but in their lives … I would sit there, transfixed, just thinking: “Can you imagine living like that? That’s just the best thing ever. They make this music and all of those people are just in LOVE with them and they follow them everywhere … can you just imagine having that?”
The entertainment business sucks people in and molests their minds. It builds them up into something awful. I don’t care how strong you are, no one can withstand what that deal can do to you. When it spits you out again, it’s much harder to deal with where you end up. Metaphorically: There’s a place they take you, a cave. In this cave there’s a box. In the box are the treasures of the earth … you are allowed to look at it, and then the box is closed and taken away, and you are much worse off than if you had never seen it at all.
I’ve been to the cave and I’ve been allowed to look in the box. It changed me. It almost destroyed the true treasures I hold. I spent a long time trying to find the cave again, but lately I’m thinking it’s better to just walk my road and enjoy the beauty of what I can see right here, right now.
I still lust for the box, though …