The trees arch over the road like a slow wave breaking on a flat black rock. We skim it’s face as the dappled sunlight strobes onto the dashboard. Devonshire roads weave though the undulating hills drenched in low mist and out toward the ocean as we rumble along it’s back on route to the Dartmouth music festival. I’m excited.
Jay stays oblivious to this as he has recently acquired an I phone ( or gameboy deluxe as it has become un-affectionately known ). Something has happened to the being that used to be our bass player. He literally spends every moment on it, chomping at the poison apple. You tube video funnies and circular emails, zombie killing games, pretend pianos and guitars. With his hoody up and earplugs in he has sunk into a parallel universe, his social skills have been reduced to grunts and nods in-between private chuckles and glimpses of the occasional girl he met ‘just the once’ and perused in a slightly dark way through her facebook profile. Can anyone help us with this terrible predicament? I feel like he is going through second puberty. I’m all up for progress, but I can’t help but feel this thing is turning Jay into a caveman by giving him an I phone lobotomy. It’s just a matter off time before the boundaries between reality and fiction break down and he mistakenly clubs an innocent octogenarian to death in the supermarket mistaking her for a flesh eating zombie as she orders a pork shoulder from the nice man at the meat counter. I hope, I pray, I despair.
Martin Harley……concerned parent, Guildford.