sometimes i think that i am not so stereotypical of an american
and then i remember that i consider the coke freestyle machine one of the greatest modern inventions
i mean look at this thing
over 100 choices, computerized mixing, one spout, touch screen, ice dispenser
have u ever seen anything so wondrous and beautiful??
I read in a biography of Tolkien once that the reason he was not fond of C.S. Lewis’ works were because they were allegory. I was a huge Lord of the Rings fan at the time and myself rather turned against allegory in an effort, I guess, to appease the dead ghost of Tolkien that would haunt his aspiring writer fans and remind them that true fans should write like he did.
I could kick myself.
Allegory is so important.
Because if I could explain away one inch of the sadness I steeped myself in last summer by writing about those three months and making them an extended winter and writing my life away as a frozen wasteland, then, really, I’m getting somewhere. You have no privy to my heart so you cannot possibly imagine why one member of the male specimen could have the affect he did but you can remember that one time you went camping in November and didn’t wear warm enough clothes so the mountain laid waste to your body heat and you couldn’t sleep or move because the cold had seemingly seeped into your marrow, frozen your muscles, and wrapped around your heart like a living ice sculpture.
If the reader can imagine a young girl sitting in a claw-footed bathtub in the middle of some far away, deep South, outdoor garden in the middle of June when all the flowers are in full bloom, the Weeping Willows and the grass and the Oaks are at their brightest colors, and the fauna scurry around happy to just have beating hearts – and if the reader can imagine that the water in the tub and the tub itself and the small area around it are frozen over, the ice sparkling in the sunlight but never melting, and the girl, in a deep coma having been frozen with the water, then the reader can imagine how it felt to be me in the Summer of 2013.
You see, it’s far easier to explain how missing you feels if I were to write that this entire Summer is one long, sleepless, coffee-less, 3 AM. No one ever tries to excuse the general shittiness of 3 AM with “Well, the sun will rise.” Sure, you’re coming back but that does not ease my aching bones, droopy eyes, and meantime heartbreak in your absence…after all, you’re the sun in this story.
In reality, this is all melodrama but in allegory it all makes so much sense precisely because it isn’t real. Imagine love poems if people were never compared to stars….the poet’s feelings do not exist to the reader, they cannot be seen or felt or smelt and therefore do not exist….but the brightness of the stars do. The readers know that, they’ve seen it. And so to have they seen the poet’s love.
Allegory is so important.
when my dad was in college he had a friend who told a girl he’d take her on a date unlike any other she’d ever been on and so he took her to the supermarket to watch the lobsters fighting in the lobster tank
they’re married now