Children

I've just gotten an idea. It's probably a fairly widespread idea, but it has just occurred to me so I'm in the throes of excitement. As an exercise in characterization, I will populate the internet with fictional blogs. My brain children will in no way be traceable to me. I guess I'm going to try to make them believable, but different enough from my own experience that I can learn a thing or two about possible worlds, about possible situations.

I did this before. Back in the early days, when ICQ had that random chat feature I'd make up characters and try them out on people. I had one good conversation with (supposedly) a lady from Argentina (or Brazil, I'm not sure). These days I'm not so much into the believable charaters. I've come the conclusion that most fiction is profoundly superficial. So the most honest book you can read is one where the author makes a half-assed attempt to hide the "author" character. Just like every story I've attemepted over the past two years. (Notice I said this kind of writing is "honest", not "good".) Im nea, how many stories can you write about a murder or a bank robbery. What is the reader supposed to get out of it. Is bank robbery a metaphor for the fruitless humanistic struggle of globalized society? No: it's always struck me as a poor substitute for TV. TV, however, does not fill the niche of long fruitless discursive ramblings. (There are exceptions, but they are rare.) But I tire of totally shoe-gazing rambling. The quasi-public nature of the weblog has kept my most self-indulgent ridiculousness in check. Has it made me a better person? Bah! Bollocks to it all.

Consider: "The teachings of the Sri Syadasti School of Spiritual School of Spiritual Wisdom are true in some sense, false in some sense, meaningless in some sense, true and false in some sense, true and meaningless in some sense, false and meaningless in some sense, and true and false and meaningless in some sense. / If you can master nonsense as well as you have already learned to master sense, then each will expose the other for what it is: absurdity. From that moment of illumination, a man begins to be free regardless of his surroundings. He becomes free to play order games and change them at will. He becomes free to play disorder games just for the hell of it. He becomes free to play neither or both. And as the master of his own games, he plays without fear, and therefore without frustration, and therefore with good will in his soul and love in his being."