Archive for July, 2008
Courtship
Thursday, July 31st, 2008 | arts, vintage | No Comments
Old-fashioned erotic ritual. And snow.
Fairytales
Thursday, July 31st, 2008 | analysis, mythical, style | No Comments
Oh, those sweet old times! How trendy they prove to be today! We’re always in for some candlelight or vintage furniture, aren’t we? It’s just the charm of living brand new lives in brand old eras that steals our soul. It’s that beautiful, oh-so-polished image that wraps us into some novel/movie/whatsoever character and that usually lasts until candlelight goes out and the lightbulbs go in. Cause fairytales are just fairytales, right?
Truth is fifteen minutes of poetry won’t make up for 15 hours of prose. And we always come back to our daily life and those overused contemporary myths: The Strong Woman, The Self Made Man, The Success. It seems like The Princess, The Hero, The Accomplishment have transformed overnight in their Business-World-Equivalents. That’s the model for today, nothing else we’ve got in stock, so take it or leave it.
I was not aware of my own, personal need for fairytales until some years ago. Back then, I was in the middle of some love-affair and way too preoccupied with being cool about it. Being cool was cool, right? So I was being so cool that one day I realised it wasn’t fun anymore. I was looking on the window, smoking in silence, my dreams were blocked somewhere on the way, there was no thrill, no thrill at all. I was feeling strong, the night was warm, there was no wind blowing and no sense of adventure. Nothing could have been more boring. My lover was a nice, calm, almost passionless person and I wasn’t looking for commitment. Everything was awfully clear and there was nothing to fantasize about. Suddenly, I realised I was living an uninteresting solitude, as my experiences were losing their meaning, and I got extremely sad. And out of that, of course, because that boredom thing wasn’t making feel like a novel heroine at all.
What I came back to was not idle dreaming, but a world full of sense. An interesting solitude, where you could plant fairytales and let them grow. And then I actually realised the value of being able to wait, hope or fight for something. It’s not the adventure that makes our hearts beat faster, but the possibility of it.
So, the prose? It will always be there, but when you do have something to wait for, something to believe in, well, it just turns to poetry a lot easier. And then we can just get rid of all those models and write some true fairytales. True fairytales rule.
Innocence and when does it fail
Monday, July 28th, 2008 | analysis, mythical | No Comments
Innocence. I truly, madly, deeply want to talk about this. We tend to consider innocence as some angelic phase in somebody’s evolution. So appealing, that we even want and try to prolong it.
Children are innocent, and this is because of their immense ignorance. Even though thinking of childhood fills me with a peace that is older than me, I don’t remember my childhood as being serene. I was a happy child, having all I could possibly need, but my life was full of internal conflicts, of questions, of contradictions, of small-sized dramas that meant the world to me. I had absolutely no responsibility, so I was innocent. I knew nothing, and my ignorance was preserving and protecting my innocence. I was not good, as I didn’t knew what good actually was. I was simple, instinctual, selfish, narcissistic. And that was natural, I was a child. However, my continuous struggle for knowledge, my growth, and each new everyday experience tore my innocence to pieces and that was exactly what had to happen. Being innocent I wasn’t at all pure, cause no efforts were made from my part to achieve anything. Being innocent was no quality, but the lack of them, my mind was like the fertile ground waiting for its seeds.
Innocence was from heaven, because was the one and only remainder of the prenatal state. It kept me close to heaven, but that heaven was one of the unconscious, while reaching out for reality was tough and painful. Still, if I was to grow up and become a real humane being, my conscience had to grow too. There was no room there for denial, I simply had to leave that sweet, warm heaven and face the world, my whole being was urging me to this.
When now, as an adult, I try to speak up and talk about my innocence, I’m usually wrong, and I only do it out of cowardice. I try to escape responsibility, and this, my friends, is no longer possible. I try to limit my consciousness, and that makes a part of me wanting to scream out loud the truth, the whole truth. I try to pretend that I’m ignorant about one thing or another, but I keep forgetting that, now, I’m the one to blame for this. That’s because I’m not a child anymore and I have to assume full responsibility for almost everything around me.
I’m only human and I make all kinds of mistakes. I see all kinds of things, that may or may not affect me. I sometimes act when I shouldn’t or keep still when I really should be doing something, anything. My thoughts and feelings seem to have a life of their own in many cases. But closing my eyes about this would be the biggest of mistakes. I must get out of that womb and try to know, feel, live, and this is the long, everlasting fight of the wannabe-individual against innocence.