2 Entries, for Self

Me, the Character, the Pacific

Even in my heavy, gelatinous trench, I find time to type, think of the character. I’m convinced she’s the one for my pen, for me. She’s been having these dreams, about love. They include a male figure, absent of definition or any other mortal specificity. Kelly occasionally takes out the paper, and with descending lashes struggles to draw this figure. She’s never able. She always hopes to see him, learn about him, hear him speak. But the deletable delusions are infrequent, at best. Where was real love, another enrapturing in similar passions, in art?

Kelly turned the key. As her car crawled to consciousness, she realized how desperately she needed the ocean. “At least I have this love, now,” she thought. (4/21/10)


Reflective Positure, 4/22/10

Long day, meeting afterwards. Upon what am I reflecting, deliberating? “Proper conduct” in the Room. Just as art, wine, and Literature are subjective, I offer that properness, and “professionalism,” are as well. Reminded of one of my preferred master manuscripts, what the author delivered through his prolific pages, lines. Me, not Winston. And the Room, shouldn’t be Room 101. Professionalism, a facade, consisting of ubiquitous don’ts. How is this reasonable, Human? Visitors to a winery intend on enjoyment, not a pretentious and sterile puritanical posture. To ask for such is unreasonable, and laughable.
Proper. That word alone is coated with subjectivity and ambiguous constituents, rationale. And do you think the guests care? Hospitality entails sincerity. Not disingenuous dialogue. How can you ask anyone not to be themselves, or have fun, to be Human? Like someone tonight said, “If you’re not having fun in this business, you’re doing something wrong.” Agreed, quite astute. One could extrapolate this conception and infuse it into existence, universally, or they should. It’s healthy. It’s Human.
I’m reflecting, additionally, on anyone who would have the intrepidity to heave such a toxic logic. “Be professional,” the suit says. “Make sure you follow procedure,” it might say. Agreed, the job must be done. However, when a slicing sacrifice of Self is demanded, an incongruous picture cements. Candidly, I’m sick when I hear such conformist rants, ordering employees to remain robotic, to play a role, vocalize lines. If I were a guest, or customer, in the Room, or anywhere, I would be appalled and disgusted. I want to interact with life, not machinery!
Wine is an occasion, and I would think occasions entailed some degree of, how should I say it, fun. The problem with any suit making tyrannical impositions is that they reveal agenda. There shouldn’t be agenda with coworkers, or a coat of supremacy. Conversation is Human, is it not? Humor is as well, so it is rumored. As I continue to reflect, I realize I’m reflecting too much. This ridiculous and demonic dart cannoned at my Humanness, in no way a menace to one of the pen. Wine is Literature, Life, and we are Life and Lit. But, how dare I expect a Human to accept other Humans acting like Humans? Rather, they should act professional!
“Professionalism” should be predicated upon common sense, not recital. You could argue that is subjective as well. True. But exercise sensible judgement. And if lines are crossed, managerial intervention is altogether warranted. You know, I’ve always abhorred those tags, “professional, professionalism.” Reminds me of orthodoxy, from Orwell’s 1984. There is a line that reads, “Orthodoxy means not thinking--not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.” Big Brother is more inane that I estimated if it sees me swallowing its puritanical pill! I will never be unconscious. I am too alive, too Human.
As I cork this reflection, this response, I sip. In my Room. Safe from orthodoxy. “DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER!” Refusing to speak Newspeak, and that’s just what it’s asking one to do. I will not contribute to the embodiment of poison. It’s probably expected that I the Self cork, halt in my advance, my free speech, my pen’s parade, my Humanness. False. I’m prepared for fallout. And the thing is, I don’t want conflict. I simply aim to continue, as a Human. I guess some have a problem with that. That’s their problem. I’m not Winston.