Monday, August 9, 2010


Because It is sneaking up on you, awareness is not a key player in the dramatic equation.  If you saw It, you would recognize It, wouldn't you?  

Here is where the entire equation falls apart.  You would not recognize It; you have no idea what It looks like.  Even when It lays a hand on your arm or calls out to you en passant, asking for the literary equivalent of any spare change, you still do not consider It an adversary or even a miscreant, not even a Republican.

So we have established that twenty-first century life being what it is, you do not necessarily recognize It when It confronts you.  It could well be someone approaching you as a cuarandero or  shaman is approached in a rural village, asking for you help, please, senor, do you have any charms or potions that will cure my ailing manuscript?  

You are thus in a two-down position because you do not like to say no, but they, whoever they are, have already spent their budget on the services of a literary cuarandero or shaman and quite obviously the manuscript is ailing.  They thrust it at you.  See.  It is sick.  There are of course other Its It might be; Life does have a sense of humor.

This being the twenty-first century, there are enough Its out there to be offered as a loss leader at COSTCO and so you may have already opened the package and tried to use It before It reveals its true nature, its It-ness, to you,  You are a pending file in a limbo of Its, your poise and comfort an oncoming windshield in rush hour traffic on a Hollywood Freeway in the midst of a migration of bees; your chances of getting out of any one situation risky, your fate almost certain.  

Worker Its and Guard Its will sense you out, then come rushing at you to the point where you would gladly trade places with Franz Kafka's lead character in The Trial.

You understand only too well this is not some Oliver Stone conspiracy theory, they're-out-to-get-you scenario.  The simple matter is, there is enough It out there to withstand an avalanche of reason or symbols to the contrary of reason.  

Although you try to keep up with the literature, do the reading, check in daily with Google, make outrageous claims about having been saved or enlightened or merged with the One without a Second, you are mindful of the enticing target you are, out there alone, in plain sight, where It can see you.

1 comment:

Storm Dweller said...

There seems to only be one cure for my It. A very fast and painful shot of "Delete" followed by a dastardly and laborious chaser of "re-write." If It rears it's ugly head again, repeat the painful shot of "Delete" and forget the re-write part. It leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth, but if the story is dying, the story is dying. Put the damned thing out of it's misery.