Archive for April, 2009

Vanity, Insanity and the Plight of Being Uncomfortably Numb…

Posted on April 14, 2009

Natural State of Things...

Natural State of Things...

The Girl hates pain (careful, or this could get metaphorical…)
The Girl has been known to employ extreme measures in order to bury, dull, anesthetize or otherwise conceal any offending hurt, be it the mental or physical sort.

But what of the pain that one cannot hide?
What of the dis-ease which callously arranges itself all over the face?
That most impudent and cruel brand of malady, which defies even the cleverest tactical obfuscations…
This is exactly the impertinent variety of pain ailing The Girl, at present.

The dentist and her drill have turned my previously soft and impressionable face into a distorted, engorged, and distended shadow of itself.

The prescription painkillers have effectively assuaged a reasonable amount of the physical ache, but seem to be doing little to relieve my visual and mental discomfort.
I study myself in the looking glass, and imagine my misshapen face as though it were a chaotic, dream-like representation depicted by Salvador Dali’. By turns revered and reviled, Dali’s overstated flamboyance has always intoxicated me personally, and I have an inking that he might be equally as intoxicated by my current oddity.
This thought makes me smile in spite of myself, but the expression that stares back at me is virtually unrecognizable.
My trademark ‘subtlely amused’ smirk looks ghoulish and macabre.
Perhaps I should photograph this smirk-turned-grimace and post it on the inter-web, in hopes that I might become the muse for some undiscovered and currently uninspired Surrealist painter.
We would travel the globe and he could paint portraits of my gruesome image in front of landmarks and town halls and all seven of the World’s Wonders.

Time magazine will put us on the cover of their December 2011 issue under the headline,“The Face of the Apocalypse and the Man who made it so…”
Gypsies and circus freaks will send me fan mail and praise me as their idol.
People magazine will dedicate a side bar in their annual ’50 Most Beautiful’ issue to me and my “Least Perfect Golden Ratio” which, even before the issue hits stands, is sure to be the newest trend in cosmetic surgery. Women will flock to their local plastic surgeons begging for their natural proportions to be mathematically warped, until they are satisfactorily maimed and disfigured.

I forcibly shake myself from this reverie, lest I get too excited about the possibilities of living life as the new-age archetype of post-modern anti-perfection.

I resign myself to pretending that I am recovering on “The Swan” (arguably the most obnoxious ‘reality’ show EVER.) I once read that all glossy or potentially reflective surfaces (including utensils, shiny plastic, or laminate of any sort) were banned from the recovery house, so that the contestants had no idea what they looked like until the big reveal in the finale. Perhaps I might do well to apply that tactic to my own convalescence.

I lie on my bed as my brain sifts aimlessly through the dossier of nascent thoughts I’d haphazardly filed away for ‘further ponderance at a later time,’ until it happens upon one of interest.
A friend recently solicited my opinion on the value of propelling the plot of a story forward at all costs, regardless of how many characters are destroyed en route.
Her initial inquiry was broached with respect to a television show we are mutually obsessed with, but I found it challenging to answer her solely within that context; a fact which I made clear in my reply, but later lamented when I did consider the thing as the thing, sans extenuating circumstances.
My (partial) initial and fully loaded response is below:

“I find it hard to address your ‘plot at all cost and destroying characters to get there’ query objectively. But, since this is really an opinion and I know you aren’t seeking hard and fast answers, I shall give you mine. Here goes:
I think it’s necessary. I tend to correlate everything on the show to life, and in life, sometimes we must go against ourselves and others (or Others) to move the story along. To get to the next space…
We make choices that we know are ‘wrong,’ or we stick with an ideal that we’ve ceased believing is ‘proper’, simply because we refuse to acknowledge that what we thought we knew, was ill-conceived. And often, we’d rather accept the consequence of these familiar choices, than give over to a new way of thinking. Little by little this destroys bits of our innate being and innocence. We affect our personal plot lines shift our storylines with every decision we make. We introduce new characters and ‘destroy’ others. I don’t always like it but I don’t know if there’s any other way.”

In retrospect, while I maintain my afore stated stance with regard to certain aspects of life, I cannot help but wonder if plot turns, puzzles and mysteries aren’t less interesting when the protagonists who drive them have become contrived, pseudo-versions of their former selves…
When does one draw the line on principles (eff you, principles!) and man-up to nature?
Why do we numb our pain and make decisions based on our deadened perceptions rather than truly feel our despair and allow it to create the story?
Why kill our innate good OR evil in favour of utter dispassion?
Since when is a fruit that is grown like a grape and tastes like a grape, called an apple just because it looks like an apple? The preceding question was brought to you by Rx painkillers
Still, in defense of the passion and the pain and apple and the grape, this numbing, this wholly un-sensational murder of sensation, is appalling.
It is the physical version of inducing ignorance.
And though ignorance may be a reason; it is never an excuse.
So what then, is my excuse?
How might I justify introducing this faux-tranquility to that which riles me so?
Why must I blunt the force of my ugliness, just because it threatens me?
Why does Vanity provide reason towards the unreasonable?
Today, when I called upon her to dissuade my internal anarchist from rearing its swollen, disjointed face; I learned that Vanity was out sick.
And with no positive imagery being mirrored back to sway my thoughts on the matter, I acknowledge that I’ve the same degree of internal disorder whether my externals appear orderly or otherwise.
And suddenly, I feel an odd zing, a fast flash, a quick sizzle, if you will, surrounding the possibilities that await once the effects of this numbing agent subside.
I shall explore. I shall spelunk through my ugliness in hopes of finding my innate cave-dwelling crystals.

I shall…hope that I do not heed the call of my ‘pain’ and pop another of those tablets before I get to the caves in the first place; an option which grows more and more appealing as the seconds pass.
It’s getting late. And my swelling appears to have abated a bit…

“I always keep a supply of stimulant handy in case I see a snake, which I also keep handy.” W. C. Fields

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Droplets from the Dark…

Posted on April 10, 2009

OK, it's not THIS extreme

OK, it's not THIS extreme

Currently rankling/ haunting the Girl:

Death, Taxes (not necessarily in that order), my missing microchip (known to some as a ‘filter’), Vienna (the song, not the place), Pirates (though entertaining in theory, somewhat disturbing in practice), perception (skewed and otherwise), smoke, mirrors, kite surfing v. windsurfing, shooting straight, straight shooting, realization v. acknowledgment, sacrificing character for the sake of plot, sacrificing your plot because you believe you have character, humans who claim they aren’t hypocrites, humans who actually aren’t (this may be worse), that which remains secret, that which does not, clairvoyants, prioritizing, mobilizing, fraternizing, catechism, dreams which are painfully obvious but wholly mystifying, the death of the comedic film as it once existed, reprisal, forgetting (both intentional and not), talking too much, saying too little, saying enough and it not making a difference, heroin, heroine, volleys, flames (lighting, stoking, extinguishing), permanent deletion, lack of 24 hour diners which deliver, immorality, immortality, drugs (working and non), lame duck politicians, lame duck relations, lame television, trials (court and other), musicians who directly speak about a songs actual ‘meaning’ and muck up my own interpretation, the return of my innate disorganization…

All that we see or seem, Is but a dream within a dream.
-Edgar Allan Poe

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Marinate On This…

Posted on April 1, 2009

Take the time to let it seep in...

Take the time to let it seep in...

I’ve never been much for subtlety…

“In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man’s proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it’s yours.”  Ayn Rand

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