poignent moment #1

how is one supposed to feel when one, streaming a movie via netflix onto one's computer screen at an unorthodox time of night, a movie that may or may not happen to be the movie fletch, notices during a momentary still black movie frame one's own marauded face in the ultra-reflective computer screen, sees for just a half-second one's unshaven, unmoisturized skin, textured with dead cells like sheaves of wheat in a snowy field, and the red sting of a next-day-delivery pimple announcing its presence to the world, a world that happens to inhabit almost exclusively chevy chase?