Recent Conversations with Fate

Me: "And so, Fate, as I was saying just a moment ago, I've decided to go ahead with my decision."

Fate: "Well, if you're sure about it, then I suppose there's nothing I can do to change your mind..."

Me: "What? You want to change my mind all of a sudden? I thought we were both good to go on this."

Fate: "Don't let me stop you, my friend. What's done is done."

Me: "It's not too late. I haven't done anything yet. I've merely decided."

Fate: "Okay then. That in itself is a victory of sorts."

Me: "Are you mocking me again?"

Fate: "Not in the least..."

Me: "Well - I thought we were working together on this project. Basically, I'm simply trying to unravel your most recent bit of cryptic advice."

Fate: "Am I so hard to understand? And besides, do you really need to consult with me to see clearly what options remain available."

Me: "Of course I need your help. I have a tendency to overlook certain possibilities."

Fate: "Additional options...More to choose from...More to get confused by perhaps."

Me: "But your job would simply be to point me toward the right option..."

Fate: "And wouldn't I be cheating you out of a certain type of experience if I did just that?"

Me: "Oh I see. You want me to feel the excruciating weight of confusion, panic, uncertainty..."

Fate: "No. I simply don't want you to feel forced into something that doesn't feel right to you."

Me: "Well I've got news for you Mr. F. I'm getting sick and tired of your non-directive therapy. Just tell me what to do. Just give me some answers."

Fate: "Sorry that's above me pay-grade. The person you really want to speak with about that is named..."

Me: "Stop right there. Look now. I'll talk to whomever want to talk to me. But right now we're having a conversation and once again, it seems, we've hit a brick wall...which leads me to suspect that you really do want me to fail. You'd like nothing more. It's entertainment for you and your ilk. I'm like some bug, some plaything that you taunt for your own amusement - which, if you ask me, is really twisted."

Fate (smiling): "I've afraid you're getting the wrong idea. This little conversation of ours may be strange or a trifle unusual, but that doesn't make it bad. Despite these little circumlocutions we seem to keep falling into, I actually think we're making progress."

Me: "Do you get what I've been trying to say for the past 10 minutes? I don't want a pile of needless options. I'm looking for the one option that I MUST embrace. And up until just 10 seconds ago I thought that I had found it."

Fate: "Until I..."

Me: "Until you..."

Fate: "What?"

Me: "You're causing problems. It would be easier to just treat everything you've said as mere random verbiage."

Fate: "Fine. Go ahead and insult me."

Me: "You see... I really don't have to do this. It's just that it represents something entirely new for me, a major switch, a new path, a new enterprise."

Fate: "Fine. Then it's decided."

Me: "Or else...I could just go back to my old life...my old dreary life...where I refuse to venture out into the unknown forest with my pack of bread crumbs and a compass on my cell phone..."

Fate: "You know what. Your persistence has paid off. I'm going to give you a final answer."

Me: "About as clear as the Oracle at Delphi I bet..."

Fate: "You should not go back to your old life."

Me: "Really? So you agree that I'm doing the right thing...[pause]...or do you mean that I should repudiate every aspect of my former persona and begin again from scratch as if it were the year zero? Is that what you mean."

Fate: "Just what I said before. Do not go back to where you were before."

Me: "But that would be impossible. You can't step into the same river twice..."

Fate: "Exactly my point. Embrace the new. It may look the same, but it's not..."

The Wild Bunch Redux (or another first attempt at pure pulp fictional product)

Trudging slowly along the uneven sidewalk, entering the edge of the common, that formerly benign gauntlet where college students and other vain loiterers huddled on benches or sprawled out on the dry grass eating their lunches, staring off into space, Herbie and I were resisting the urge to fall into yet another long, drawn-out conversation.  We were in no hurry to meet up with our "counterparts" at the local theater in the mid-morning hours well before the first matinee. Our counterparts were two tough, hard-edged ladies of indeterminate age - somewhere between twenty and thirty-five, calloused, worldly, practical, cordial, known for their love of art, architecture, ballet, music, botany, wild and domesticated animals, clothes, food, shopping, sociology and various subliminal forms of gossip. What we had in common with them is somewhat hard to explain. I guess you could say we shared a knowledge of this postage-stamp sized village of ours, this remote little college town; we had a weird familiarity with this forlorn place in which none of us had grown up but to which all of us had been drawn because of that once-touted institution of higher learning that, despite falling into disrepute over a scandal involving special privileges and misuse of finances, had still managed to graduate some of us while squashing the rest of us, and handing us a bill. We made up part of the residual "youth population" that had yet to move on. What was keeping us here? Probably the appeal of our familiar turf along with a healthy dose of anxiety about the next stage of life. Dug into our present routine, we had become almost too adept at keeping the future at bay. Today had its own share of drama in store for us. There was going to be a show-down of sorts with another posse made up of assorted mangy antagonists known collectively to us as the Drips. The aforementioned clique was a typical bunch of snobs devoting their energies to cutting down a few notches, despite our attempts to avoid all confrontation. We were the self-proclaimed Dregs who had clobbered them not only in certain spontaneous debates over music and movies, but in multiple rounds of Frisbee Golf and our own make-shift version of Lawn Bowling. We had tried to avoid the fated encounter with Queen Veronica and her posse at high noon as it were, but negotiations had broken down during the last chess game we had consented to play. They beat us at chess - so what? But it was their continued, ridiculous arrogance that demanded a response - that warranted a resistance of a kind - even if that meant - some sort of physical exertion that resembled violence. Herbie was unusually calm, considering the occasion. And yet, as I usually did, I sought to forestall with words, to use conversation as my buffer. I wanted to blot out this dreaded encounter from my mind so I launched into another one of my obsessive rants. "I think I know why people talk," I said. "Why people talk?" "Yeah - I know why talking is necessary for humans." "Oh. Is this a new revelation on your part?" "Well - it sort of just came to me yesterday - although I know I'm probably borrowing the insight from some earlier thinker." "Is that so?" "Yes - it is." "So what have you discovered?" "About our need to speak. Well it's simple really. I think it was Kojeve who said that people talk to give voice to their discontents." "Discontents." "Yes. Suffering promotes good conversation.  Extended pleasure renders us mute." "So to be perfectly happy...means we wouldn't want to say anything? What ever happened to wanting to share one's joy and excitement with someone else?"Well - it's just that we have more of a need to complain or if not that to report to another on the imperfections that surround us." "But people talk all the time - and they seem to be enjoying themselves..." "Right you are. It can be quite enjoyable to drone on about misery and injustice." "But you're saying if there we no problems...if everyone had everything they wanted...then..." "We simply smile back and forth - gesturing - using our bodies to communicate. No need to get so worked up as to call our vocal cords into action..." Herbie grew suddenly quiet, then looking around, he whispered: "You don't really hate her do you?" "Hate her? You think I was the one who started this feud?" "That doesn't answer my question. Do you actually hate her or any of them?" "You mean Veronica?" "Yeah." "Yes, Herbie, I 'm afraid she's pushed me over the edge. What am I supposed to say - that I find her mildly annoying? That would be somewhat dishonest of me." "Do you hate Jackie and Greg?" "Blind followers..." "Do you hate Mac and Zadie?"   "Those two are harder to categorize...They're snoots, no doubt. Heads in the air. Ridiculous posturing. But as to what they really believe...I wish they'd declare themselves more overtly. They're somewhat hard to figure out. I detect signs of rebellion in them...but they won't come over to our side..." "And what about M&M - our trusted allies?" "Our counterparts - use the correct terminology - what about them?" "Do you really respect and admire them so much more than the others." "I respect whoever is allied with me - buster, whoever gives me the time of day and doesn't sit around mocking me and my abnormally prescient insights." "And do they really support you the way you describe it?" "What has gotten into you Herbie? Are you suddenly suspicious of everyone? Meredith and Maureen are solid. They support us...they're on the level. Can't you tell that much at least." "You see them as supporters. Okay. But don't you think on a certain level it's all just entertainment for them? How much do they really have invested in all of this?They just want this fight to continue to keep growing..." "Well, if they love the drama of it then so be it. That doesn't necessarily compromise their support." "You think that." "Listen man -  the battle lines have been drawn. It's a matter of not allowing ourselves to be disrespected, not being outplayed by a bunch of pompous, insufferable, overrated snooty snoots. We can all agree on that." "And don't they say the same about us?" "What they say about us is WRONG. Fool. That's my point. They are painting a false picture of us - and I refuse to let that keep happening." "They have a right to their opinion, dude." "They have no right to slander us and spread lies and tarnish us." "Who else is paying attention?" "That's irrelevant, Herbie. I'm acting on principle here."

Hippies Use Side Door...

Was this sign ever used???

Theory of Improv

According to my teacher, the theory of improv (a.k.a. improvisational theater) can be reduced to two words: "Yes, and..." Always begin by affirming (somehow) what your fellow actor has said or done; next try to add onto it in a way that expands the scene and changes the dynamic. Nay-saying is a definite no-no. When an actor discounts or rejects an idea that someone else throws out there, this is known as blocking. Blocking is like a conversation-ender. It effectively brings the scene back to square one. Improv is sort of like quilt-building. It requires a duo or an ensemble to create something as a spontaneous patch-work. It's all good.

Metroland by Julian Barnes

I started this novel yesterday. It's about these two British youths who love to make fun of people - especially bourgeois types. The goal is to scope out an "authority figure" or  some "uptight bloke" and then figure out a way to "pulls their chain." Sort of reminds you of Holden Caulfield - only more self-consciously European. Everyone's a phony, blimey.  But it looks like one of these characters is going to break ranks and actually grow-up. Hurray for that!

Japanese Alphabet

Color as a Source of Revelation