mobile phone as mirror deserves a whole nother thread imhoOut flew the web and floated wide-
Black mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
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mobile phone as mirror deserves a whole nother thread imho
im sceptical about the distinction hes trying to draw butIndeed. In Brooker's TV show the black mirror does undoubtedly mean the phone, he said something which I thought was fairly spot on about how recent technology feels like a drug (I suppose particularly in the way usage can be shown to have a measurable effect on the brain) and we haven't properly investigated the side effects.
I have a friend who is an artist and he told me that there is also a tool called a black mirror, made from obsidian I think - something distinct from the scrying mirror as I understood it, a real and practical tool - but I'm not sure what it helps you to do or how it helps you do it. I had acquick search on Google but didn't find anything.
I wonder if there's a direct connection with Eliot's heap of broken images? I know Pound's Hugh Selwyn Mauberley is supposed to have been a model of sorts for the Waste Land, and it must have been around the same time.She who could never live save through one person,
She who could never speak save to one person,
And all the rest of her a shifting change,
A broken bundle of mirrors . . . !
Near Perigord by Ezra PoundComments & analysis: You'd have men's hearts up from the dust / And tell their secrets, Messire Cino,allpoetry.com
Not detective-related, but this is a crucial mirror scene. Skip to 2:30.Read something the other day that I can't find now, annoyingly, about how fractured mirrors are a common trope in classic detective novels, symbolising the confusing, complex maze the detectives find themselves in while trying to figure out the case etc etc, I'm sure someone else here can flesh this out a lot more.
for twenty-four hours, I indulged in voluntary vomitings induced by drinking orange blossom water and interrupted by a short nap. I hoped that my sorrow would be diminished by these spasms, which tore at my stomach like earthquakes. I know now that this was but one of the aspects of those vomitings: I had realised the injustice of society, I wanted first of all to cleanse myself, then go beyond its brutal ineptitude. My stomach was the seat of that society, but also the place in which I was united with all the elements of the earth. It was the mirror of the earth, the reflection of which is just as real as the person reflected. That mirror — my stomach — had to be rid of the thick layers of filth (the accepted formulas) in order properly, clearly, and faithfully to reflect the earth; and when I say “the earth,” I mean of course all the earths, stars, suns in the sky and on the earth, as well as all the stars, suns, and earths of the microbes’ solar system.
Not detective-related, but this is a crucial mirror scene. Skip to 2:30.