It’s been a while since I again found the muse to make another blog entry. Actually I got hit by life. This new economic climate has made it somewhat adventurous for me in these last months and in particular these last weeks. But I am able to front up to it now, whereas when at first we got hit, I felt a bit shaky at the knees. You know, asking mundane questions like “What am I going to do with my life?”
In reality this economy is no more than a series of agreements that it’s all bad. I cringe every time I hear that old hackneyed phrase of “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.” Thank you sir, can you stop saying that now? You’ve said that every time y0u were at a loss for words in front of the American public since the Primaries.
Oh, well, now I’ll try not to get political on my blog, the last thing I want to start is some kind of political discussion club. I gave up on politics in my Junior year in high school, Advanced Placement Government class. But if one thing has happened to me in 2008, it’s that I felt my wisdom grow. You know, that’s an odd thing to feel.
I’m not that old (34 in Earth years) and over that time I knew I was naive as a doe in a grizzly den in my late teens and early twenties but it never caused me much concern. My vulnerability was never apparent. Then I hit 30 and got scared. Weird. For me thirty was more ominous than any other age simply because it meant that I was supposed to be an adult now. Supposed to be. Get the difference there, because what you are supposed to be and what you are can sometimes be a long ways apart. Honestly, I don’t know if anyone has a good definition for Adult. Actually, the only thing I see attributed to the word “Adult” is in connection with lewd entertainment venues and that, my friends, is a sad state of affairs for a word that is also suppossed embody the concept of human beings who are in charge. Go figure.
Anyways, so suddenly it seemed that that eternal well of youth that had been cascading about inside my pysche might, possibly someday run dry. Yes, I had that fear. And I can’t really explain why other than the significance of an age. And yes I know that is melodramatic, but if you know me at all, you know that I am a bit melodramatic anyways. If you didn’t know that it’s only because I’ve been fooling you, and that’s not your fault, I can also be a very accomplished actor when I want to be. So, back to the point, I had this dim inkling that I might grow old, that my flesh might sag or something and it scared the holy hell out of me for a good 3 years. I’m not kidding.
But I had this thing happen in the new year here. I was looking back at 2008 saying my unlamented goodbyes to the year that was, the year of heart break for so many and a year that gave me too much annoying politics (it was the first time in my life that I actually gave a hoot about politics since I was 17 and I think it will be another 17 years before I get into it again) and I had this little thought:
You have to forgive yourself for the wrong things that you have done enough so that you’ll retain sufficient self confidence to do right again.
In other words, there are a lot of things to feel lousy over, there are a lot of little failures along the way and if you beat yourself up about each one too much you won’t possess enough fortitude to keep going and win the game. You’ll stop yourself and that’s the real pity. I had that thought and I knew then that I had become wiser. And then I realized that if age has it’s virtue it is wisdom. Christ, if I keep this up I’ll be a damn budah by the time I retire.
Anyways, so that’s my sentiment for 2009, because I had been feeling drained by 2008, as I am sure so many else were, and I decided that I needed to formulate a new outlook for the new year.
I’ve been also getting myself more and more onto these social media lines. If you’re not on at least half a dozen of these networks you don’t really exist and in that regard I’ve been feeling a bit like Poppycock and his brother Puk.
Funny story, I got onto Twitter–you know that website where you have to explain what you are doing in 100 words or less–and I started messaging this and that and then I got a dose of my own medicine. Someone–I don’t even know who this person is, I can’t tell by their online handle which only served to freak me out more–messaged me with the word POPPYCOCK! And for the first time I had an idea what I’ve been putting my poor charcaters through. It seemed in that moment that Poppycock was after me for an instant and I had to look about the room to remind myself I wasn’t inside one of my novels. (Thank God for that.)
Poppycock gets himself onto all the social media as does Puk–it’s the best way to become infamous and stay corporeal. To give you some background noise Puk is a fairy like Poppycock and in his native form he looks very similar to Pan the goat god. And Puk is actually upset–has been upset now for several centuries–that a certain playright, who he refers to as Blind Bill, wrote that silly, little play and portrayed him very poorly indeed. Made him into a Fool’s Fairy and did not at all do him justice as a fearsome and terrible god of the wood that he was always meant to be. Eclipsed by Pan and half a dozen other minor deities Puk has become largly forgotten in history, his power and infamy leaking out into antiquity and onto the pages of children’s stories. So he too has got to make a comeback. He’s not only got to get corporeal, he’s got to get a following together, a group of adherents who can keep their man in the running for godhood. Hey, I didn’t make all of this up. Fairies are said to be “gods but not gods”. They are the Christian equivalent of angels and demons, somewhere in between men and gods. So, naturally Puk craves such a state of being, it’s how he stays alive. The way he does it is similar to the old circus freak shows. If you remember correctly Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream turned that one dude into a donkey–er a donkey head. So, that’s what Puk does in this universe I’m telling you about, he makes chimeras–human-animal hybrids. Problem is it doesn’t always work out. He’s trying to perfect his skill. He considers himself an “arteest”.
It’s fun even if a trifle strange and at some times downright sick. Again, blame it on the characters–it’s their story.
Until next time…
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