Thursday, July 3, 2014

Fiction's Favorite Evil

They were efficient, ruthless and genocidal. Their ideology was nigh a religion and their plans for conquest nearly realized. Their uniforms were stylish, their weapons sleek and their technology amazing. They were the Third Reich.

Nazi Germany was the reality of a desperate nation striving to grow and flourish. In propaganda and fiction it was the epitome of evil bent on world domination. The reality was smashed when the Germans were conquered. The grim glory of their Third Empire, however, has grown and flourished into the symbol of evil at its finest.

Long after World War Two, the Nazis remain a favorite antagonist in fiction. Organized villainy is often fashioned after them. Their symbols and the face and name of their leader still evoke dread. Though decried as the ultimate evil, the Nazis prove darkly fascinating and artistically inspiring. The legacy of the Third Reich is one we have grown to love to hate.


Friday, June 27, 2014

The Primal Forces of Passion

Sex and violence. Both are exciting. Both are intimidating. Either can be crude or sensual. They are the most passionate of our impulses. They are the fire of our art and fiction.

Sex. Every human being is instilled with the unassuming desire to perpetuate the species by means of physical intercourse. Coitus, the actual means of sexual reproduction, is the intended act of our innate yearning. Sexuality is an impetus beyond its procreative application, however. Creatures use it as a means of affection and domination. Humanity channels its energies for creative or manipulative endeavors. Our religions, philosophies and politics are shaped by its influence.

Violence. Every creature struggles. Nature is balanced by the callous reality of survival of the fittest. Predators devour prey. Aggression asserts or thwarts assertion. Even our spiritual ideals of freedom and justice are the struggle of good against evil. Even that which is gentle and friendly thrives and endures only if protected by the threat or use of force.

Sex and violence. They are the primal forces in action as interaction. Each is intense. Together they are overwhelming. Like male and female they are the polarities of a natural, restless dynamic. In art and fiction they are the drama of passion. They are the vim and vigor of our psyche and the spices of our imagination.

I am a writer and an artist. I celebrate the intensities of sex and violence. I refine their qualities and focus their energies. I am mindful of their danger but appreciate their sensual and dramatic potential. Like fire, they are immeasurably useful but must be used with thoughtful care. Like fire, they must be fed and burn if we are to be their beneficiary.


Saturday, June 21, 2014

The Grim Reality of Adventure Fiction

Humanity has always loved stories of high adventure. Heroes, villains and monsters have always been our favorite characters. Legend, whether embellished history or conspicuous fiction, is what inspires us. For all our science, technology and supposed enlightenment we have not changed. Humanity is as it has always been. We want and love what we have always wanted and loved. Our entirety has always been within.

Fiction is like dreams: a fanciful way of symbolically articulating and experiencing our innermost thoughts and feelings. To thrive and prosper in reality we must struggle, hence, the everlasting relevance of adventure stories. The "hero" of such a tale is the champion of our struggle. The "villain" is the will that opposes us. A "monster" is the primal forces to be reckoned with.

Adventure must be exciting if it is to be adventurous. Danger must lurk if a hero is to prove heroic. A villain must mean harm if he is to be villainous. A monster must prey on humanity if it is to be monstrous. The story is one of effort and conflict. The characters and their interactions are the story.

Fighting is what makes an adventure story intense; mortal combat specifically. Peril and sexuality can do much to excite but violence is a must. The struggle is the very theme of the adventure. It resonates because we all struggle. A battle to the death is the ultimate clash of wills. Fighting to the death, inside or out, is a tribulation we all face just by living.

Adventure fiction easily assimilates every other genre... because questing and conflict are the defining moments of the human condition.



Monday, June 2, 2014

Patriotic Spirit

I love my country. I am protective of its sovereignty, appreciative of its virtues and proud of its accomplishments. Understanding that "survival of the fittest" was, is and shall always be the way of the world, I condone my nation's use of subversion and force. In sports and war I am loyal to my own team, regardless of who is supposedly deserving, right or wrong. I am neither a bigot nor a jingoist: I am a realist whose every thought and action is for the common good.

God himself is nothing without his adoring masses. One man is simply irrelevant unless a multitude finds him useful. People are weak. People as a people are strong. Alas, the anonymous many are the relevance of the individual and the power and glory of the mighty few.

Freedom and justice are neither loyal nor obedient. They respect no man's person nor do they bend to the consensus of the many. Freedom defies power. Justice shuns glory. The mighty and the many are equals in the eyes of freedom and justice.

As a man of flesh of blood I must breath, eat and drink. My nation is my safety and a fertile ground for the sowing of my life's endeavors. My patriotism is thoughtful and justified. I bless the many who are my nation by edifying their virtues and appreciating their accomplishments. I encourage them to love what is good about us. I remind them that We the People are the heart, mind, soul and strength of our great nation. I strive to create and am reticent to destroy. I implore my countrymen to do the same, for the good of us all.

As a man of spirit I see the cracks in the walls of the nations and know all walls come tumbling down. I see and smell every culture for the smoke it is and know it is soon to dissipate. I am mindful that all wealth is rust and ashes. The pride of the doomed is vainglory. Freedom and justice shall prevail, stripping the mighty and the many naked to be judged. One shall reap what one has sown, alone and individually.

The friendly shall reap the friendship they have sown. The merciful shall be spared. The caring shall be cared for. To hell with all others for they were dead even as they lived. Let us be forever rid of their festering stench. Never again shall there be tribes or nations for the need of them shall be over. The dreary days of enemies shall have passed away.




Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Created Equal

Humanity is a murderous, thieving race of delusional savages. We hide among our tribes and factions and pretend our nothing is a something. We relish the failings of our brethren as if such is somehow to our glory. Alas, humanity, the greatest of all creatures, is a rotting monster.

All men are created equal in that every man is conceived with a divine spark within his bosom. Women, the lesser vessel of men, are also endowed with this infinite potential. It is the inalienable right of every human being to sow and to reap what one has sown.

Our bodies are weak and mortal but we can be more than dust and water. Should we be so bold, we can venture within and discover the source of our yearning. We may use our spark to light a flame that shall burn away the darkness. Our cold shadows of pride shall give way to the warm brilliance of what it truly is to be human. We shall grow in life and vigor beyond the desperate passions of our mortal nature. Only as an entity of spirit is a man or woman beyond the creatures of dust and water. One must transcend if one is to be satisfied for judging oneself is the only meaningful endeavor. All else follows.


Sunday, May 25, 2014

Gifts of Blessing

Everyone has a knack. Our talents differ and some have more than others but we are all gifted in something. If we neglect our abilities they shall diminish. If we use them, however, and refine them then our talents shall grow and prosper.

I am a storyteller and an artist. Others are singers, musicians, athletes, handymen, protectors, comforters, orators and or whatever else. We are all endowed with the ability to contribute, somehow, to the common good. Few of us truly bother to do so. Some of us who do squander our endeavors for evil. The very few who bless us all with their talents are the precious souls who keep our world turning.

Most lives are a waste of life. Everyone has their reasons but few are pure of heart. Indifference is mindless. Hatred is heartless. Compassion is thoughtful and caring thus, takes effort. Alas, it is easier to do nothing than something. It is easier to fall than to rise. It is easier to consume or destroy than to create. People become a nothing when in their apathy they drift with whim or in their malevolence they corrupt and tarnish. Either such lives are a waste of talent.

Humanity is a creature of flesh and blood but also of mind and spirit. We are beyond our animal nature when our souls have eyes to see and ears to hear. We imagine and create when we qualify what we quantify. What is a song but sound? What is literature but scribble? What is a cathedral but stone? By employing our talents we make more of things than the sum of their otherwise meaningless parts. By our endeavors and appreciation thereof we create a context of relevance. Use your talents and use them well. Sincerity strives and is never in vain.


Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Human Being

Our universe is moved by unimaginably vast and powerful forces. Our world is but a tiny thing in the midst of it all. Our proud tribes and mighty nations are virtually nothing. I am less than nothing. Alas, I am the least thus the greatest.

Our very sun is bigger and brighter than all of us... yet it cannot imagine, aspire or even care. I am beyond the awesome sun. Yes, I cannot live without it. Alas, the sun is only relevant because it serves my needs. I do not live for the sake of the sun. As I have claimed: I am beyond the awesome.

Humanity is proud of its delusions and cultures. It sheds human blood for the greed and malevolence of our tribes and nations. Alas, what are these things that come and go, rise and fall? Our generations and their ways corrupt and perish yet our humanity itself endures. Is it sounds and scribble that give words their meaning? Is it our tribes and nations that made us human? I am beyond all such things for I am a human being. I am the foundation of all that endures and prospers.