A Conversation (Part 2)

He sat quietly as he sipped on his cup of coffee staring past the figure in the booth across from him. "ever listened to Simple Twist of Fate?" The way he spoke was a tad harsh but he said fate with a gentleness, the "F" being but hinted at. 

"By who?"

"Bob Dylan"

"No, I can't say I have." 

"People tell me it's a sin…" He paused for a moment " … to know and feel too much within." 

"What's that?" 

"It's a lyric to the song."

"What Song?" 

"Simple Twist of Fate." he didn't mind repeating himself. 

"Oh, yeah. That song you just talked about. I feel stupid."

"Don't. My my mind is meandering. Just focused on that."

"Why?"

"I can't say."

"Okay."

He raised the coffee once again, it was a little cooler, easier to drink. The harsh sips which often annoyed his company had become more gentle, very much like his "F" in his rendition of "fate." 

"Do you believe in fate?"

"Well that is a tough question."

"No it's not, you either believe in fate or you don't. I'm not asking on your opinion of it, just wether or not it exists." 

"I don't know." 

"How can you not know what you believe in? You either do or you don't. Which is it?"

"I guess I don't." 

"Why?" 

"Can I say that that is a tough question?"

"Yeah, you can. Will you still try to answer?" 

"I think I will." 

Okay. so?"

"I just don't think we are important enough for a concept like fate. That something is controlling all of us."

"I see. Do you want it to exist?"

"Want what to exist?"

"Fate."

"Oh. I don't know. Probably not."

"Why not?"

"I guess I just don't think we are important enough for a concept like fate." 

"I like fate, it makes me feel a little better." 

"Why?" 

"I guess because I believe we aren't important enough for fate, but I sure like the idea that we are, I like it a lot." 

 

It Don't Mean Much (A Poem)

It Don't Mean Much

I know it don't mean much but I'm sorry

I'm sorry for the mistakes I've made 

and the words I threw

I know it don't mean, 

It don't mean much.

I know it won't mean much but I care 

I care even though I fail to show 

With my actions in lieu

I know it don't mean, 

It don't mean much 

What I'm saying is that I think I know 

I know even through I fail to say

To say what's on my mind 

I know it don't mean, 

It don't mean much 

It don't mean much when you have nothing to say

it don't mean much when you have nothing to show 

It don't mean much when you have nothing to prove 

It don't mean much, as such

A Conversation (Part 1)

"Two pints please," was followed by a two fingered tap unto the hard mahogany table, each fingertip on his left hand was calloused while the knuckles where dry, crusted and worn. . "So man, how is life?"

"I can't complain, even if I did no one would listen right?" A small chuckle followed from tight lips. The upper lip was a little tighter on the left side of his mouth. 

"I guess your right. Anyways, tell me about work, was it good?" 

"You know. It is decent enough. I don't really get to do much but that is okay. I sometimes get to do other stuff, personal stuff you know? It is pretty decent I suppose."

"I hear you man, I hear you. It is one of those things, you just gotta put in the hours, get the things they want done and just move on. I'm finding it works okay. Can't complain with the pay check right!?" light laughter followed from a hard face broken by a mirthful grin. 

"No I guess you can't. Tell me, how long have you worked at your current job?" As he spoke his well worn but expensive shoes lightly tapped the ground in a rhythmic pattern, steady as a bass drum. 

"Oh man, its been a while now. 10 months I guess? Wow almost a year. Yeah almost a year I guess. Time sure flies don't it?" 

"Yeah it sure does." Brown hair flicked from covered grey eyes. The skin just beneath his eyes where a shade darker while the wrinkles just above his eyes where deeper, losing nuance a short time ago.

"How is the new job? I heard about it on Facebook or something. Congrats by the way, you deserve the position." That mirthful smile broke free, the lines around the mouth feeling well worn and deserved, lines only created through constant repetitiveness. 

"It is the job I deserved." The lines around his mouth existed just above the surface. His leg stopped moving for a moment. It started up again but was slower, not as precious. 

"Well that is all we can ask for eh? The things we deserve. Maybe not even that I would think. It has been too long since we've seen each other last. We have so much catching up to do, so much so I don't know what to say next. How Weird is that? One day we are talking up a storm and not long after we are sitting silently unsure on what to say when there is so much to say." Brown eyes retracted slowly, eyebrows climbed down the hillside of his forehead and his shoulders lowered ever so slightly. "You know what I mean?" 

"I do. I guess it says a lot about how we've changed and not changed." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't know. I'm just filling in space I suppose." His grey eyes focused quickly on some object in the far off distance, closing ever so slightly to block out the excess light. 

"Always the overly honest type" words better understood with a wink, "I've always liked that about you, straight to the point." 

"I know." 

"What do you like most about me?" 

"You're a mound type person." He stopped, his grey eyes floating while his leg stopped. He nodded.   

Divergent and Plato's Republic - A Little Post-Modernism In Our Lives (Thoughts)

Last night I watched a teen melodrama entitled Divergent, I am sure you either saw the trailer, film or read/heard-of the novel that the movie is based on. To say that the movie is good would be a stretch, indeed it is very much like many of the teen movies that exist. With that in mind I would like to quickly discuss some of the interesting philosophical underpinnings that I believe exist in Divergent. Divergent is set in a small "dystopian" society, in this case set in the city (or Polis if you will allow) of chicago, which has been broken up into 5 factions. These faction, Abnegation for the selfless; Amity for the peaceful; Candor for the honest; Dauntless for the brave; Erudite for the intelligent, are created to ensure that the society will exist in harmony. 

It easy to see the parallel between Divergent and Plato's Republic, the famous Socratic Dialogue. Within Plato's republic we undergo the intellectual journey of The City [Polis] in Speech, a fictional society which Plato argues is a logically perfect-city [Kalipolis]. Within this city [Polis] we are told of the need for a "noble lie," a lie that every "person" fits within a pre-ordained faction. In Plato's dialogue there are three factions (the number three is a common theme in Plato's philosophy), these three factions are The guardians, the Auxiliaries, and the Producers, which coincide with different "metals" within their souls. The producers are Bronze and Iron, the Auxiliaries are Silver and the Guardians are Gold. One could easily fit Divergent's 5 factions within the three that Plato has outlined within the Republic. 

Within both Plato's Republic and Divergent education is a vital component on the selection and factionalization of each member of society. Education and testing is used to inform each citizen on which faction they best belong. They are told a "noble lie" in both divergent and Plato's republic, that the factions are needed to maintain society, any breaking of the faction system will be the demise of the entire society. I have not read Divergent so I do not know if the novel goes into as much detail as Plato's republic on how the education would be applied but the basic principle still remains. 

The parallel deepens. The "Divergent's" are an interesting take on both the guardians and perhaps the true "sophists" within Plato's republic. Within the Republic the guardians are chosen to defend the city [Polis] and to rule as is right. Within the film  (and I assume the film follows the novel) the only Divergent's we are shown are either with the "Dauntless" (the guardians of the city [Polis] of Chicago) or were with the "Dauntless." This is very important for the Divergent are ever so subtly hinted as haters of power, those who are unwilling to rule. Such people, those who wish not to rule, are those who are best to rule under Plato's republic. Only very specific members of Plato's Republic have the "Soul" of a philosopher, not all the guardians [Dauntless] are true leaders/rulers, only the select few ever become the proper philosophical rulers, those which are able to see and understand the Good. Those philosophical souls are very much like the "Divergent," and as outlined by the fall of The City [Polis] in Speech, the persecution and destruction of the Philosophical [Divergent] brings death and disorder to society. 

What I find most fascinating by this development is how historically vital philosophical ideals, underpinnings of our academic self understanding, can be found within every day pop culture. I will admit, out of social hierarchal necessity, that Divergent is a highly bastardized version of Plato's Republic. It lacks the cultural, intellectual and aesthetic refinement of Plato's Republic yet it does tackle many of the same surface themes. In our Post-Modern world I think it is important to accept that the moral and intellectual distinctions between low and high art are increasingly becoming blurred, though many would argue such distinctions are still important. Divergent reminded me that within seemingly insubstantial works of entertainment can be found valuable intellectual parallels and lessons. So when reading a pulp novel or watching a mindless movie look beyond the surface of its entertainment value, consider the structure of the narrative, the basis of the visual design and the characterization of society/individuals;  you may find something a little more engaging. 

Olek

Crown of Clouds (Thoughts)

There is a perplexing cloud that is much alike to a crown. It hovers above my head diffusing deep, seemingly, life changing emotions. This crown of dark clouds brings to my life a sense of disastrous sadness. Such a sadness does not impact within moments but finds itself to dwell deeply in your bones, its darkness envelopes every aspect of yourself. Your memories of yourself in the past are hazed by the darkness, a thicket of dull light which can transform a picturesque memory into one of dusty staleness. The regrets of your past no longer linger as disenchanted reminders of future lessons but as a totem of self loathing. The present undergoes a similar change, every flaw that was once hidden and seemed unimportant rise to the surface and breaks the plain of my consciousness, every mannerism deserves an apology while every success is barely worth mention; the present becomes more hideous than the past for it appears to become a replaying of all past indiscretions, the past repeating itself. Lastly the future becomes bleak, destined to be as the past and the present, void of pleasure and happiness. Such power the darkness can have, such power the crown of clouds holds over me. Such power.  

Let Us Begin (A Poem)

Let Us Begin 

Let us begin not from the start but from the end 

It was a lovely evening in late july 

As would be expected a walk was in order 

and as such Mara was readying herself 

She died that night 

Let us begin not from the start but from the end 

It was a cold morning, deep cold 

As would be expected a shovel of snow was in order 

and as such Aeron carefully pulled on his boots 

He died that morning

Let us begin not from the start but from the end 

The window was covered in a sheet of ice 

As would be expected a needle was in order

Mort didn't want her to suffer any more 

His daughter died that morning 

Let us begin not from the start but from the end 

The trees wept quietly in the wind 

As would be expected a prayer was in order 

Valdis didn't want to live any longer 

He died that afternoon 

Let us begin from the start and worry not on the end 

It was a lovely evening in late july 

she could hear the crying in her arms, the joy!

As would be expected quiet tears where in order 

Soon-to-be Aisha didn't need to wait any longer 

She was born that evening 

The Allegory of Superman (Thoughts)

Art is a subjective medium of communication which can have its messages affected as much by the life and experiences of the viewer as by the intent of the artist.    The majority of experiences I have had with comics have occurred during my early youth, between the ages of 4 to 10, and most recently while I was enrolled in a university course. I was compelled to take a course on comic books because of a curious fascination with the hybrid of literary and visual mediums found within comics. Of my early comic experiences I spent all my energy obsessed with two main figures, unsurprisingly Batman and Superman, the latter of which I outgrew after certain changes in my surroundings and life experiences. I shall put my energies in understanding my obsessive and than waning love of Superman.

To understand the point I shall be making I first need to put into context how my relationship with Superman, now understood through hindsight 20-20, has changed over time. I was raised early on in Mexico, specifically in the State of Baja California Sur, in the small city of La Paz. Mexico, at least certain parts of it, have a history of strong communal ties built around the Catholic Church. Being part of a middle class existence within Canada I was, unsurprisingly, enrolled in a Private school. The school was to be a Convent run by Nuns. Being at the age I was, between 4 and 6, I was soaking up dogmatic christian beliefs like a sponge. This coincided with my first experience of Superman, in which I found a ragged Spanish edition which was part of a series (story arc) known as "The Death and Return of Superman." I was obsessed, and undeniably hooked.

Now comes the question, where am I going with this? I myself can't help feel that the parallel between my education during my early youth and my love of Superman is no coincidence. Upon the surface it appears that a very very strong Jesus  Parallel can be found within the origin story of Superman. Looking quickly at the history of Superman it is clear that a Jesus parallel was likely not the intent of the creators of Superman, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, both of whom where of Jewish decent. Most theorize that in reality Superman was an allegory, if loosely, on the Old Testament story of Moses. Both Moses and Superman are saved by their parents who fear the destruction of their world and lives. In the case of Moses, the pharaohs edict to kill all the male Jewish children at birth, while in the case of Superman, the destruction of his entire planet. Both are saved by cribs, though of course Superman's is sent through space to earth, where he is adopted by the Kent family who "[l]ike the pharaoh’s daughter … take a look inside the crib; like the pharaoh’s daughter they are moved to compassion by the baby’s tears; and like the pharaoh’s daughter they decide to keep mum about the incident and bring the infant up as their own. In both cases, the child’s first reported act is one of strength" (Jacobson 168). It is also found that "… Superman’s birth-name, Kal-El, has a Jewish component, El being Hebrew for ‘might, strength, power’ and ultimately for God" (Jacobson 169).

Superman, like others of his ilk, such as Batman and Spiderman, has been reinvented and re-envisioned since the character was first created and conveyed in 1938. Numerous movies and countless issues of comics have delved into the thematic possibilities that is Superman. The issue I was so Obsessed with, "The Death and Return of Superman," Dealt with, as can be divulged by the title, the death and "resurrection" of the fabled Superhero. At that time, the early 90's, 5 years after the original publication of the "Death and Return of Superman" series, I would have connected and paralleled the plot-themes to the miraculous story of Jesus Christ, both stories which I would have experiencing at the same time. The image of a distraught Louis lane would have echoed the image of Mary. At that time, being of that age, the two would have blurred. " Many simply see the story of a hero sent to Earth by his father to serve mankind as having clear enough New Testament overtones" (The Associated Press). Even the "S" on his crest could be seen to represent "saviour," not only "Superman." I remember, when seeing the death march of Superman at the tender age of 6, of being shocked, confounded, and a bit neglected. I was raised on the infallibility of Superman, of his God-like powers and his almost impeccable morals, as I saw them at that time.

It does bring up an interesting debate about not only comic books and characters, but of art as a whole. In this case, interpretation versus artistic intent. It would be hard to argue that when Siegel and Shuster created Superman they envisioned the character being reinvented as a Christ like-figure, or of even having strong biblical overtones from either the Old or New testament, but like much of art, and maybe even more so in comics, the stories and characters can grow to have a life of their own. The characters have the potential to shift and change based on the readers and the new writers and artists that take the torch and continue to expound upon the Superman narrative. I myself cannot think of many fictional characters that have been created and recreated as extensively as Superman, especially in the same medium, Comics, yet alone the cross-over the character has experienced in television and film.

Superman has been able to fit in the judeo-Christian literary mould for close to 75 years, and has been able to exist within the growing secular society we exist in today. Superman has been reinvented by myself as my own beliefs and world views have change, as seamlessly as within the culture we exist in today. If anything, Superman, like all art, has acted as a mirror of society since his inception, and to look at the history of Superman would be to look at the social history of America. Superman has been an important figure in my life for it has aided me to connect with the past by allowing me to interpret old allegoric stories though new and modern narratives, conveying the timelessness of certain themes. The image of Superman's cape, tattered and ruined upon a stick still stays with me today, reminding me that not even Superman is indestructible, if but for a short period of time.