“The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.”
An event so precisely parsed even William could tell. Our handicapped language is still working, but I still can’t effortlessly illustrate this devastating event of a feeling – a muted implosion of serotonin and adrenaline through capillaries that discharge blind aggression like kerosene between teen King and Queen Dopamine. I need three bottles of codeine before I try to convey this allegory with metaphors, analogies, and similes like a Professor Dickens teaching the difference between two cities. I could borrow a French expression, add an Arabic adage, and toss in a Portuguese epigram. I can’t do this. I have to postpone this interpretation to deaf bones. I have to escape it – this feeling, this pain, this pleasure. I’m prone to combat these, although I don’t condone, trazodone until I’m monotone.
The concept that you can pick up a work of fiction (a book, movie, show, game, etc.) that YOU KNOW FOR A FACT is a lie, and yet you will your brain to believe it. Media that is outright labeled ‘Fiction’, indicating to everyone that is false, made-up, dishonest, fraudulent- a lie, and yet we pretend the characters and situations and places are all real.
It’s not because we’re stupid. We believe a lie so we can enjoy it. Even if that means believing our beloved protagonist is harmed, mutilated, or even killed. This doesn’t mean we’re sadistic (well, maybe a little), it means we’re human. It means we want to relate to someone and care for them, even if the person isn’t real. It’s really quite lovely.
We’re willing to believe Chris Pratt is really just about to be eaten by dinosaurs. We’re willing to believe our toys come alive when we don’t see them, or you can make your house float with enough balloons. We’re willing to believe zombies are all around us. We’re even willing to feel that same fear and love and excitement vicariously.
We get to experience the most unbelievable situations and circumstances while sitting in a comfy chair, eating popcorn and drinking Coke.
And if we didn’t have this psychological phenomenon- if we weren’t completely willing to believe a lie, even when it is labeled as such, then we wouldn’t have fiction.
So I'm completely breaking this challenge. I apologize for such destruction and delay, but without further to do, here are 3 of my favorite quotes.
“”I myself own a flower,” he continued his conversation with the businessman, “which I water every day. I own three volcanoes, which I clean out every week (for I also clean out the one that is extinct; one never knows). It is of some use to my volcanoes, and it is of some use to my flower, that I own them. But you are of no use to the stars.”
– The Little Prince [after talking to a man who collected stars], by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. (My all-time favorite book. Read it if you haven’t!)