I collect iconic fictional characters, not as a fan you must appreciate, but much more resolutely, as a stalker, a kidnapper, a vulture, even a jackal, picking over their still warm, slightly alive, words and actions. Absorption is the ultimate goal, drink in every nuance, strange modulation, singular shade, the essence, marrow, quintessential meat, that makes their particular band of peculiarity unique.
There are so many excellent examples of monsters, for the hugest, overwhelming, to the most seemingly insignificant ever imaginable.
Haigha, the March Hare is a most confusing chap, being famously the personal messenger to the White king, as well as the infamously the old leveret whom attends the Mad Hatters tea parties whenever he is fit and able to do so. ‘Tis quite remarkable that the ever-precocious Alice never do mention that that are indeed the very came Lepus, but perhaps in uniform he is not so easily identified.
A most obligating fellow, always most consistently agreeing wholeheartedly with anyone available. Most likely he was smitten with Alice at first glance, we all do comprehend a hares very open predisposition towards the fairer gender and their inability to do much at all after an initial flirting but protect themselves from the flying feet of their new and suddenly thoroughly irritated female acquaintances. A male Hares romantic fortune is not a particularly safe or blessed.
It do occur that Haigha is but an intrusion of the Dodgson himself into the story. Please do remember that Charles Ludwig’s proposal was rejected by Alice some years later.
I had a most disturbing dream last night about utilitarianism, not such a commonplace nightmare, but proposition if heartedly pursued capable if inflicting that most heinous of inflictions, intrusive and unwarranted censorship. Edicts for conformity begin harmlessly enough, a casual suggestion from the establishment that the wearing white clothing is an unnecessary drain on laundering time and equipment, and vital ancillary public resources, like energy, chemical output, use of labor, increased water wastage, but rapidly descends into a compulsion to adopt utility garments most bland, of officially approved design and hue, creating a dynamic of scrupulous uniformity. From the tiniest of seedlings great monolith’s do unleash, to overgrow all less vigorous consequences.
Totalitarianism germinates in very small terrariums, flourishing, expanding, quickly engulfing any form of individuality. Strangling any vestige of singularly with the razor-sharp cheese wire of unforgiving conformity.
Extraordinary individuals should never aspire to anything less than brilliance, for a short measure will simply lead to a train of unfortunate outcomes. Trying to appear banal is most unusually difficult, will necessarily draw attention to the actor, whose natural ability to mimic plainness will create too perfect a representation of the normal, affectively creating the unusual, a wholly unique pastiche of the ordinary.
Rather, choose to wear your specialness as a clearly visible costume, announcing your presence, participation, involvement, serendipitously enhancing, raising any productions status and quality from average to outstanding. There are always scores of supporting players, but lead performers are rare as hens teeth.
Be the star of your own biography, whom would be better in the part? Explore and illustrate the depths of you own character, your actions, reasoning’s, emotions, those well hid prompts that make us all dance to script like well stringed and manipulated Venetian marionettes.
Much wiser chaps than I do state that you are never too old to learn new tricks, a truth I am hell bent of testing almost every day. Claiming to learn brand spanking new abilities is a stretch of honesty, my time us rather spent refamiliarizing myself with quite ordinary skills my mind has decided to erase, completely forget, or disavow. There is little more frustrating than the surreal feeling of having half accomplished a simple task only to suddenly, explicably, find out you are totally devoid of any notion what the next step might or even should be. ‘Tis maddening quite beyond any easy explanation.
Today I realized I had forgot the mechanics of chewing, an ability a sheep can accomplish constantly and most efficiently. A quite dehumanizing slap on the cheek to someone of my proof.
I am learning not to fret such unpleasant surprises, for the well of forgetfulness is bottomless, and any art, skill, memory, ability, might choose to descend momentarily. into oblivion. Masticating is no real biggy!
The arrival of the quintessential American holiday, the annual festival of ‘Thanksgiving’. Not intending to be too terribly harsh, but the occasion is of course wholly contrived, cunningly constructed to appease every facet of the imagined first harvest festival celebrated by the pilgrim fathers, including a large banquet, lots of joviality, togetherness, a great Christian observance, even the belated inclusion of some grateful pagan subordinates. I find the majority of emotions behind the of holiday quite worthy of annual memorialization, but find it just a little bewildering that anyone ever thought, or taught, the day was a reconstruction of a historical actuality.
I am constantly asked in Britains celebrate ‘Thanksgiving’? We indeed do, but much earlier in the month of November. Our festival memorializes the historical hanging, disembowelment, and dismembering of a traitorous individual in the year 1605. A most joyous annual remembrance, celebrated with parties in the streets, including bonfires, fireworks, much drinking, and feasting.
I have been adapting to, merging with, if you will, with the gravity feeding tube installed in the exterior of my abdomen for five months now. The initial realization of having a possibly permanent add on to the physical system was somewhat concerning, scary, discombobulating,, but after a few days adjustment the mind is quite capable of forming a form of relationship with the new addition, it is after all necessary for the continuance, wellbeing, of the being.
I use the word relationship very specifically, for there is created a definite a two-way interaction, the addition and the original performing separate but equally viral tasks. The new becoming the source every form of nutrition, the old taking responsibility for care and upkeep of the new appendage.
Addition, extra, projection, addendum, the accessory oft do seem to represent a negative, denigrating change, similarly to a replacement limb or organ. New and undoubted necessary, but not fundamentally historically, original. A strange and absurd differential.
This very morning I was obliged to take apart, clean, and reassemble the valve mechanism to my additional orifice, the extra access for my digestive system. This procedure was very much trial and error, look and see, sense, and feel, like clearing a nostril, cleaning an ear canal, trimming nails, normal functions of daily exitance in a seemingly flesh and blood organism, but far more practically an overly complicated mechanical unit.
Whether I simply noticed the blocked valve, became aware of problem in usage, or far more intriguingly felt to irregularity, the problem, the fault, failure, as we might with a tooth ache, a pulled muscle, weakening natural instincts. This novel idea now suddenly haunts my thoughts, questions my understanding of how the human psyche can adapt to, accommodate, include, facilitate, fresh, seemingly impossible, and wholly illogical components. Mary Godwin and her immediate cohorts, Shelley and Byron, indeed most or the late Victorian intelligentsia would have no difficulty with the concept of genesis through adaption, ‘tis an abstraction that science has obliterated.
When we are younger we imagine time is far less finite. But of course thus is an illusion, all time is relative, dependent for our species entirely on the duration our rather insignificant planet takes to complete a rotation under harsh glare of an equally unimpressive star at the edge of this particularly home-spun galaxy in the wondrously ever-expanding universe.
I have found that time can drag terribly as we age, tediously even, making for long periods of nothing important happening whatsoever, requiring some serious effort just so simply pass moments along, as if abstractly sifting sand between outstretched fingers. Creating one of this life’s most absurd dichotomies altogether.
Sleep is a marvelous distraction, a short pleasant relaxing snooze will fill a vacant moment quite perfectly, and thankfully the ability to catnap do improve quite nicely with consistent practice and we lucky elders have usually had more than one or two occasions available occasion to perfect our performance.
Homo sapiens had truly done so very well indeed! We had evolved, survived innumerable challenges to out existence, curtailed our most heinous taste for violence, successfully risen to the very peak of this globes inhabitants, and through all the surrounding pandemonium managed to foster out intelligence and abilities to previously unimaginable heights.
Then quite suddenly, in a foolish drive to comprehend everything, we carelessly forgot the prime truth, that we are merely human, but a small probably unimportant cog in the great design thats is the universe. Blinded by the constantly expanding brilliance of scientific understanding, we mislaid the equally fundamental pillar of knowledge, philosophy.
The epochs at the very end of the nineteenth century, and the begging of the twentieth, saw the divide betwixt explanations and predictions, and morals and transform from a rippling brook to mighty storm invested ocean.
I find it increasingly hard to accept the volume of time it now takes me to accomplish what should be the most straight forward of simple tasks, labors that I am sure used to complete in but a jiffy. Not that a particularly pressing piece of brain surgery awaits my attentions, but such circumstances are inclined to leave me aghast.
My fingertips have lost much of their dexterity, and a good deal of feeling, and added to their inclination to tremble when under the slightest exertion makes even the rudimentary manual manipulation of fiddly items irritatingly challenging.
Thus we reach the cruelest of creeping changes, a sad lack of patience, and the rapidly growing realization that such issues will not improve this lifetime, and that any possible future reincarnation will be wholly too late to address current dilemmas.
I have learned to put things down momentarily, walk away, relax, rest, and when suitably revitalized, reappraise, solve, or as a last resort embarrassingly beg for help.