Marmalade

I've had a bunch of stuff on my mind lately. I'm being my normal distractable self.

I was reading about the Monomyth in terms of fiction. Along with this, I've been visitng the TV Tropes site which is always enjoyable. I've been trying to refocus on fiction and I've been working on a story.

For some reason, conversations with my parents have led to the subject of generations. So, I was looking at a specific generations theory that is based on four repeating archetypes. I've read about generations quite a bit over the years, but I learned something new in some recent reading of online articles.

Generation X (of which I'm a member of on the younger end of the scale) isn't very large in number. The Boomer generation before is about twice the size and the Milennial generation after is about twice the size. Generation X hasn't had as directly a powerful influence as the Boomers. When people think of contemporary American culture they're essentially thinking of Boomer culture. And just as Generation X is just starting to move up in to positions of power, the massive Milennial generation pops up and will get all the attention.

I don't mind so much. I'm excited to see how the world will change as the Boomers retire and the Milennials become the new force that dominates American culture. I suspect there will be an explosion of technological innovation of the likes that hasn't been seen for a long time.

On another topic, I've been reading some graphic novels. I've decided to finish reading the whole Sandman series which is probably my single most favorite graphic novel. I also want to finish Doom Patrol eventually. Another favorite series is Promethea which I've read before, but would like to read again. I've started looking at some other graphic novels: The Filth, The Invisibles, and Watchmen... the latter of which has been made into a movie.

I've also been reading other books as well... ya know, the kind without pictures.
I'm reading The Hidden Passion by Caruana. It is a novelized version of the Jesus story from the Gnostic perspective. He bases it on and directly quotes from Gnostic texts. Its quite fascinating and a nice balance to my past studies of Gnosticism. It makes me want to read more of the Gnostic texts.

I've been skimming through the nonfiction book arts of Darkness Thomas S. Hibbs (the title intentionally leaves "arts" uncapitalized). Its about several of my favorite subjects: film, neo-noir, sci-fi, and Gnosticism. It covers similar territory as the works of Eric G. Wilson, but with a different emphasis. Hopefully, I'll get around to reading it in detail soon. I have the sense that it will be a book that I'll return to many times.

My friend has been reading some of the writings of Martin Luther. We've discussed it some and its interesting even though its a bit hard to understand some aspects. My friend has an interest in the idea of sin. Luther believed that we couldn't see sin in ourselves, and that it was only through God that our sin could be brought to light. Luther has a fairly black and white view in which it seems that he presents God as an absolute Other. Only utterly blind faith can save us.
I've been watching some tv shows and movies.

I just finished the movie Walk Hard. Its a very silly parody of the Jonny Cash biopic Walk the Line. I watched it before and its as funny the second time.

There are two tv series I just started watching. Pushing Daisies is somewhat original. Its about a guy who brings back the dead. It reminds me of a couple of shows. Its similar to Dead Like Me and Tru Calling. The other series I've watched a few episodes of is Fringe. Its of the paranormal investigator and political conspiracy variety first popularized with the X Files.

The only thing that annoys me about Pushing Daisies and Fringe is that both lead actors always seem like their constipated. I think its the actors' attempts to portray characters that feel troubled by life. That is only a minor complaint because the acting overall is good.

I'm standing in a kitchen, but it isn't familiar. I'm on the phone talking to my mother, but she isn't my mother... she is all mothers, a piecemeal recollection of primal longings for mother. Her voice is, at first, the voice of a mother from a tv show... now, shifting, the voice of the mother of a childhood friend.

I'm so focused on this voice that I'm barely aware of the kitchen, but I sense there are children nearby, my children. I to am a mother.

The cord to the phone lengthens as I feel myself moving (stepping?) backwards across the kitchen floor. In the periphery of my vision, I see flickers of movement. I worry about the children getting tangled in the phone line.

Then, as if stepping back onto stairs that aren't there, I'm falling. It must be the basement I'm falling into... oh yes, there is the door to the kitchen, a framing of light. I clutch the phone tightly, the cord still connecting me to the light above.

"Mother, are you there?" I hear her breathing, her heartbeat. I grip the phone against my cheek as if it were my mother's breast. I can now see where I am. I'm falling down a hole, the walls almost within reach. Faces appear in the walls, strange faces melting into one another. They luminesce like dying lightbulbs, but when they smile and giggle I know they are my children. I still clutch the pone and the line still stretches upwards. I know the cord will only stretch so far before breaking. Should I let go?