There are moments when you are aware of a gestalt reality, but unaware of the specifics of what is at play. One of these moments came when Keith arrived at my door, hailed my dogs with his customary greeting of intoning, “WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU? WHAT HAVE THEY DOOOOOONE?” and began speaking to me.
I knew only that something was amiss, something was off, something was different. I did not know what the something was. It itched at me, tickled like a sneeze that threatened, but refused to arrive. His face was his face, but it was also somehow, in some fundamental way, NOT his face.
Then it hit me.
He had no eyebrows.
This is the story of how that came to pass. And also the story of old arcade games, what they once represented and now represent, and the vast chasm between those two meanings.