Unless you’ve been marooned for the
past three or four months on a deserted island, you’re no doubt quite
aware of the COVID-19 pandemic. Here in New Hampshire, the state
governor has issued a stay-at-home order where all non-essential
businesses such as retail stores, movie theaters, hair salons and
tattoo parlors (c’mon, folks. You can live without a new tat.) The
order will be in effect until May 4th, when presumably
this thing will have peaked and started to subside.
Many places have already voluntarily shut down. For the first time I have no problem finding a parking space on Main Street. Of course there’s no place to shop for non-essential goodies. While on-line shopping is still possible, I did get an email yesterday from Herrschners, an online store I occasionally buy cross-stitch material and jigsaw puzzles from, indicating new orders would not be shipped out until further notice. The state of Wisconsin, where they are located has issued a directive. Apparently someone thinks coronavirus can be shipped through the mail. (Sigh…) At least I’m all stocked up with projects.
The local churches have suspended services until further notice.
Someone thoughtfully put a little votive candle in a glass jar with a sign saying ‘Pray for USA.’
Now the title of this post is ‘The
Toilet Paper Crisis’ for good reason. Does anyone know where the
stuff went? I know people were panic buying, purchasing mass
quantities of the stuff (because it’s all about your needs, right? To
hell with everybody else.) I stocked up before hand after reading
warnings about possible panic buying and I’m glad I did. But I
suspect I will probably run out by mid-April. As long as a new supply
comes into the stores, that’s okay but so far I don’t see any sign of
that. Have the paper mills all shut down? Did all our toilet paper
come from overseas? Apparently no one has a clue what’s really going
on.
So until this mess starts to get
straightened out, what do we do in the meantime? What do we use
instead of toilet paper? Well, there are a variety of options, not
all of them for the germaphobic.
One solution is a bidet which looks a little like a cross between a toilet and a sink. You use it to wash your private parts after you use the toilet, though you will still need to dry yourself. Some bidets come with air dryers but that can run into some money. There are low tech choices, often used in third world nations, such as the tabo and the iota. If you are the frugal type, there are inexpensive mini-bidets for use when traveling which will accomplish the same purpose for less money. Adventurous types might want to try re-purposing items already in the home.
Reusable fabric wipes are available for
drying yourself once you’ve used any of the above. They just need to
be laundered afterwards. Those who are old enough to recall reusable
diapers no doubt remember the routine. While baby wipes are still
available, it is strongly advised to leave those for mothers who need
them. Also do not flush wipes down the toilet as they will clog up
sewage pipes.
Newsprint will work in a pinch as well
as sponges as long as you use the sponges for only this purpose and
clean them afterwards. Plant leaves can be used if nothing else is
available. Just don’t pick something you might be allergic to!
This crisis will pass as all
emergencies do but life being what it is, more may loom on the
horizon down the road. Learning alternatives to business as usual
will leave us better prepared for the next one.
Take care, all.
…………………………………………………………
A special note. I have sold another
short story to the magazineInto The Ruins, the
spring 2020 issue.
As mentioned in a posting earlier this summer, I am writing a magical realism novel, The Age Of Dionysus.The first rough draft is largely complete. Now comes the part of revision, adjusting plot lines, developing (or eliminating) characters. As the first draft has gotten rather long, I have started a process of diagramming the various plot threads to ensure continuity; making sure for example that plot development C happens after A and B, not before, making sure characters don’t make an appearance after they have been bumped off, or suddenly pop out of nowhere before they have been properly introduced. Plot inconsistencies can disrupt the narrative for readers, so diagramming is really essential in keeping track of everything.
The premise in the book is that gods and other supernatural beings are real. One god in particular, Dionysus drives the plot. He is convinced that theAge Of Iron is coming to a close and a new Golden Age is about to dawn. With that in mind, He intends to put Himself in a position where He will be the top divinity. However as often happens, the best laid plans of gods and men don’t always work out as intended. The novel details the effects His actions have on people and the world at large.
Below is an excerpt from early in the book which takes place in Manhattan. The character Jillian West is a young fashion model. Charles Belliers is a talent scout for the agency employing her. Belliers is also a sexual predator, who routinely harasses the models in the agency, secure in the knowledge that he won’t get fired because of ‘people he knows’. Belliers attempts to sexually assault Jillian but she is rescued when Dionysus (posing as a mortal) unexpectedly shows up. The excerpt picks up where Dionysus and Jillian leave.
Note: The wine Charles finds is
Maenad wine. In the novel, there are three levels of this wine which
are all highly intoxicating as they are laced with narcotics. Level
Three is the heavy duty stuff. Only highly trained Maenads are
supposed to touch this stuff. If you are not an initiate and drink
this…well….
Note: All characters are strictly
fictional and not based on real people. In other words if you think
Charles is based on you, please get psychiatric help. If you think
you are Dionysus, definitely get help!
Note: Text is rated ‘R’ for nudity and potty language.
“I’ll get you a
cab.” Said Dionysus as He and Jillian went back downstairs. “Do
you think you’ll be all right?”
“Only if that pig
doesn’t come after me. I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble but
thank you! Thank you!”
“Charles will be
having other problems before too long. He’s his own worst enemy in
the end. But I can promise you, you won’t need to worry about him
coming after you.”
“I hope you’re
right. That was no idle threat he made, you know. I don’t know if I
could file charges against him. It’s my word against his. I’d have to
fight the whole way and even then the case would probably get
dismissed.” She wiped angry tears from her face. “ Guys like him
always seem to get away with stuff and nobody does anything about
it.”
Now outside,
Dionysus flagged down a cab, paid the driver for her, then handed a
small business card to her.
“That’s my phone
number. If you have any problems, and somehow I don’t think you will,
just call me.”
“Thank you.”
She looked hesitantly up at him. “Will I be seeing you again
tomorrow?”
The smile on
Dionysus’s face was glorious, washing away all the terror she had
felt earlier.
“I can guarantee it.”
………………………..
Upstairs,Charles fumed as he zipped up his pants. This evening was a bust for sure. Would that bitch file charges? Sometime they did, sometime they didn’t. And how did that Greek prick get in here anyway? He was sure he had locked the door from the inside. Maybe he hadn’t fully latched it somehow. Looking at his hands he realized they were shaking not with rage but with terror. Dionysus had held him up like he was a kitten and hadn’t even broken into a sweat. How strong was that guy anyway?
More as a way to
distract himself than out of a sense of tidiness, he began picking up
the clothes rack. As he did so, he noticed a bottle of uncorked wine
with a gleaming wine glass beside it sitting on the table where
Jillian had stuck her drink. Where did that come from? He hadn’t
noticed Dionysus carrying anything. Had he put it there? Charles
could smell the wine tantalizing his nose. Going over, he poured half
a glassful and looked at it.
The strangely alluring wine was dark garnet. He sniffed at it. It smelled like wine and yet it didn’t. Against his better judgment he took a swallow. And almost immediately regretted it. He coughed and spluttered. What the hell was this shit? He looked at the label. The lettering was in Greek and the picture on the label showed a mosaic image of a naked guy riding a lion or something. Some local artisan brew maybe? He licked his lips and after a moment took another sip.
To his amazement, the second swallow was better. It still tasted like something burped out of the Okefenokee Swamp but it really wasn’t that bad. A fine patina of sweat began forming on his skin. He drank the rest of the glass trying to analyze the flavor. He fancied himself a wine connoisseur but this tasted like nothing he had ever drunk before. After a moment, he poured a second glass all the way to the top. By the time he finished it, he had forgotten about Dionysus. The third glass made him forget about Jillian. After the fourth, he tossed the wineglass and began drinking directly from the bottle.
By the time he polished off the last drop, a blinding insight came to him. What the hell were clothes for? All this high fashion stuff was pure shit. Why was he even wasting a moment of his time with this? After chucking the empty bottle into a waste basket,he began peeling off his clothes and was amazed at how much better he felt totally naked. He should have done this a long time ago! He started walking toward the door but the floor seemed to have acquired an annoying tilt. Staggering he grabbed at a mannequin but its arm came off and he nearly fell. Righting himself he stared at the mannequin’s arm for a moment. On impulse he used it to scratch first his back then his groin. He began giggling like a village idiot. This was fun! He was going to take it home with him.
Something about the locked door bothered him but he couldn’t remember what it was. But he finally got it open and padded out into the hall. Getting off the studio carpeting and onto the linoleum in the hall chilled his feet but he made up his mind not to whine about it. Isn’t that what you got calluses for? It was probably a nice evening and his apartment in New Jersey wasn’t that far so he decided to walk home.
Nathan Jackson sat in the security office reading a girlie magazine. He had seen Dionysus and Jillian leave on the security cameras. The sight made him sigh. There he goes again, this time with a hot redhead. All the girls were buzzing about this guy and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Some people had all the luck, he thought with gloomy envy, this Greek guy was a major chick magnet and he couldn’t even get the waitress at the restaurant to look twice at him. He buried his face deeper into the magazine. Two of the security cameras were out again, he’d have to do something about that. Engrossed in the centerfold he failed to notice the functional camera showing the talent agent strolling down the stairs. But the security office door was open so Nathan spotted Charles’ s naked ass out of the corner of his eye just as Belliers exited the building.
“Shit!” swore Nathan tossing down the magazine and sprinting out the door after him.
“Sir! Sir!” He
caught up with Belliers starting to make a right turn. Charles had a
mannequin’s arm propped on his shoulder. “It’s kind of chilly out
here. Don’t you think you better put a coat on?”
“What the hell
for?” Belliers glared at him affronted. The wine fumes he exhaled
made Nathan’s eyes water. “It’s a nice night. I’m walking home.”
The temperature
read 55 degrees Fahrenheit the last time Nathan looked at the
thermometer. This guy was definitely not feeling anything. The weird
thing was, he seemed to be sweating a lot.
“I really think
you should put something on, sir.” He took hold of Belliers’ arm,
trying to steer him back into the building. “You left your coat in
the cloak room. At least put that on.” There was a glazed mad look
in Belliers’ eyes that reminded Nathan of a YouTube video he had seen
showing a rabid raccoon.
Belliers ignored
him. Instead he began staring in fascination at the marquee canopy
shielding the entrance. He shook off Nathan’s hand.
“Hey! Look at the fucking trampoline!” He screeched like a kid. Before Nathan could stop him, he tossed the mannequin’s arm into Nathan’s face and began clambering up the side of the building, grasping the concrete facade indentations with his fingers and toes like a squirrel. Throwing aside the arm, Nathan lunged at him but although Belliers was in his fifties and overweight, he was shockingly nimble, evading the security guard’s attempts to grab his ankles.
It was at this critical juncture that the squad car containing Officers Joseph Burrows and Jacob Armstrong came cruising by. It was rookie Jacob’s first evening on the job. His field training officer Joseph had driven him around showing him the basics. They ticketed a few speeders but otherwise it had been quiet so Joseph spent most of the time telling Jacob his personal war stories. It was nearing the end of their shift.
“I think tomorrow
I’ll let you do the driving. Do you have any questions?”
“Um, yeah.”
Said Jacob looking out the car window at the fashion agency they were
driving by. “Why is that naked guy climbing up the building?”
“Aw shit.”
groaned Joseph. “Ok, here’s where it gets interesting.” He pulled
the squad car over to the curb. “Make sure your gun is tucked out
of sight. He’s probably drunk or high. The last thing we want is for
him to get hold of a gun, especially if he’s combative.”
“Right.” After
putting in a call to the dispatcher, they exited the car and
approached cautiously. By now Charles was balanced precariously on
the edge of the door canopy gauging how far to jump. The guy trying
to coax him down was building security. He noted Joseph and Jacob
nearing with obvious relief.
“He’s blotto and I can’t get him to come down. I’m calling 911, if that’s ok.”
“Fine.” said Officer Joseph, not taking his eyes off the nude guy who looked like he was getting ready to jump onto the canopy. “Hey, friend, you may not want to do that. I don’t think it’ll hold you.”
Belliers was in too
exalted a state to pay any attention to the annoying people shouting
at him from the sidewalk. The canopy seemed to ripple an invitation
to jump on it. With a joyous shriek he launched himself and landed
spreadeagled on the canvas. While it didn’t rip, it abruptly folded
around him and the entire canopy frame collapsed. The two officers
used the opportunity to jump on him and hold him down.
It turned out to be
more difficult than they thought. Belliers fought like a demon to
extricate himself from the canopy, swearing a blue streak the whole
time. Jacob and Joseph tried to use the canvas to hold the drunken
man in place but Charles had little trouble ripping through the
material. With regret, Joseph pulled out his taser and tried subduing
him. Belliers jerked a little from the zaps but otherwise seemed
unaffected. He didn’t even grunt but his flailing grew wilder.
By now two foot
patrol cops had shown up and added their muscle to the struggle. The
security guard joined in. Jacob’s jaw took a painful clip from the
drunk’s fist. There were five guys holding onto him but Belliers
still kept trying to get up. The wine fumes added a rank smell to the
air but the rookie began suspecting the subject was intoxicated on
more than just booze. The swearing was giving way to an incoherent
babbling that sounded like the glossolalia Jacob used to hear as a
kid at the evangelical meetings his parents attended.
“Shit! Watch it!” yelled one of the cops. “He’s pissing a bucket!”
A stream of urine soared into the air, spraying back and forth like a lawn sprinkler as Belliers continued struggling.
The ambulance
finally pulled up. Fortunately whatever alcoholic dynamo was powering
Charles began winding down and they were able to finally load him
onto the stretcher where the EMT’s firmly strapped him in place. As
the ambulance drove off, Jacob and Joseph looked mournfully down at
their urine soaked uniforms.
“He hosed us
pretty good, didn’t he?” Said Jacob.
“That he did,
little buddy.” replied Joseph shaking his head. “Good thing our
shift is just about over.”
“I wish ours
was.” said one of the street cops. Their uniforms were wet as well.
On the way back to
headquarters, they had to lower the windows to air out as much of the
remarkably pungent urine smell as they could.
“Well, that was
interesting.” remarked Jacob laconically putting on some nitrile
gloves they had in the car.
“That it was.” Replied Joseph, who then laughed. “Never a dull moment in the Big Apple, kid! Never a dull moment.”
When writing, the portrayal of various
characters can be a challenge. Whether they are villainous or heroic,
you want them to be three dimensional. Even the best plot in the
world can fall flat if the characters are insipid and
two-dimensional. Heroes and villains must have believable motivations
and personalities which clearly distinguish them from each other. I
have found the hero or heroes of the stories to be the most
problematic.
Superheroes are popular these days. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Iron Man, the Avengers, Ant-Man, et al populate the movie screens these days and before that comic books. The appeal of these characters is not hard to understand. They’re easy to write, for one thing. Armed with either super powers or fantastic inventions, they do battle with evil and ensure justice is done.
Comic book superheroes are a product of
modern society but they’re really nothing new. Larger than life
heroes have been a fixture in many cultures for thousands of years.
Like present day superheroes, they were either gifted with
extraordinary powers or armed with magic weapons.
Heracles (or Hercules as the Romans called him) was an early version of Superman. A son of Zeus sired with a mortal woman, he was gifted with enormous strength and fought with many monsters, defeating them all. So popular was this figure, he crops up in other cultures such as the hero Samson of Israel. In fact both of these characters may be based on the much older figure of Gilgamesh, ruler of Uruk, said to be of mixed divine and mortal ancestry (much as Heracles was).
Ancient heroes often battled monsters threatening humanity, or obtained some boon such as fire and an important food crop such as wheat or maize. Sometimes they would manifest as twin heroes such as Castor and Pollux, one mortal, the other semi-divine. Navajo stories speak of Slayer of Monsters and his twin Born for Water, who destroyed monsters who were depopulating the earth. The theme of twin heroes crops up even today in the original Star Wars trilogy, where it is revealed that Luke and Leia are actually twins.
Not all ancient heroes had super powers. Some, like the modern-day Batman, were simply gifted individuals with special weapons; King Arthur with the mystical sword Excalibur, the cap of invisibility given to Perseus when he went to kill Medusa, the staff of Moses used to swallow up the magic staffs of the Egyptian priests and part the Red Sea.
Some heroes lived entirely by their wits. Odysseus, during the years he spent trying to return home after the Trojan war, relied on trickery to overwhelm the Cyclops attempting to devour him and his crew, and had his men block their ears with wax to keep them from hearing the alluring songs of the Sirens.
One thing many of these heroes have in common is their fallibility. Very few if any of them had it easy. Gilgamesh fell into a deep depression after the death of his friend Enkidu. Fearful of death himself, he went in search of the secret of eternal life only to have it slip through his fingers. Heracles was subject to occasional fits of madness actually killing some of his own children during one episode, while Odysseus’s arrogance often got him into as much trouble as it got him out. King Arthur sowed the seeds of his own destruction when he inadvertently begot Mordred on his own half sister, Morgan-le-fay. Perseus accidentally killed his own grandfather when throwing a discus at some funeral games.
It’s important to keep the above in mind when writing fictional heroes. Modern-day hero making writers sometimes forget to give their characters feet of clay, instead making them flawless, invincible and beloved by anyone who meets them. There is a term for these types of characters; a Mary Sue. Mary Sues tend to be female but can be male as well. Male and female Mary Sues are interpreted as a sign of amateurish writing although if you’ve watched recent movies and tv series, you’ve probably seen more than your share of Mary Sues. Of course ancient composers of legends and myths created their own share of Mary Sue types.
The temptation to make your hero so perfect they can triumph against anything is a strong one. But the heroes we remember best are the ones less than perfect, whose struggles against their own flaws mirror our own. So make your heroes bad tempered, overweight because they like sweets too much, awkward, depressed, traumatized, whatever it takes to make them live and breathe on the pages you write.
In last month’s posting, I mentioned Coyote and Spider (also called Anansi) who are two trickster characters. For those who aren’t familiar with the concept of the trickster, he (very rarely she) is an ageless being who, depending on the story being told, is clever, sly or clumsy and dim-witted. He’s always breaking social rules, violating the laws of physics, pulling practical jokes and cheerfully ripping off stuff. He also performs acts which are
beneficial such as stealing fire and giving it to humans, showing
them how to plant crops, even how to have sex!
This curious immortal who can take the form either of a human or animal, can be found throughout the world under various incarnations. In North America he is seen as Coyote, Rabbit or Raven. In West Africa, he is Anansi, the spider. Norse mythology had Loki as the trickster. Pacific Ocean cultures had the divine being Maui as the trickster and native Australians had a character Bamapana notorious for his bad language, crude jokes and general upsetting of the cultural applecart.
That such a being can be found in
traditional cultures all over the world suggests he arose very early
in human history. The human global diaspora dates back many tens of
thousands of years, with native americans coming in waves, probably
as early as 30,000 years ago. Native Australians arrived on the island continent 50,000 years ago.
So the trickster certainly dates back before then, perhaps as much as 100,000 years ago or more. When did our ancestors start telling stories? Probably when they started talking and preserving oral traditions as a way to survive. Part of this oral tradition involved social rules, where to find food, how to get along with neighbors both human and non-human. Relations with the spiritual Otherworld no doubt arose at the same time. And whenever you have rules, there is inevitably a rule-breaker. If there’s a rule, Trickster is sure to break it.
Tricksters are not noted for their physical strength. No Heracles or Atlas here. Instead they rely on their wits, scheming and tricking people to get what they want, whether it’s food, money, sex, what have you. They’re chronic shapeshifters, constantly altering their forms and occasionally even their genders! His antics range from bumbling (think Wile Coyote) to outright malicious (think Loki). Reading over many of the myths about Trickster, he come across much like an amoral sociopath. Yet at the same time he makes it a point to right certain imbalances. The most common form this takes is the theft of fire. Usually fire is being hoarded by certain divinities who refuse to share this gift. So the trickster devises a scheme to get fire away from its owners and into the hands of humans.
Some stories have Trickster having a
hand in creating the world. His reasons for this? Well, it’s not for
the joy of creation or vaunting himself as a creator to be worshiped.
It’s for the very practical reason of giving people a place to sit.
It’s the same with fire theft. The goal isn’t to perform a noble deed
but just to get light in a place of darkness, for warmth and to cook
food (Trickster’s always hungry).
Even the chronic rule breaking serves a
purpose. Trickster loves to turn things upside down and inside out if
possible. The effect of this is to break people out of rigid patterns
so new patterns can be developed. He mirrors the forces of nature
which can do the same thing; volcanoes spewing out molten lava and
hot ash which breaks down becoming fertile soil, hurricanes which
redistribute moisture and heat, forest fires which burn out old dead
vegetation and create ashes which nourish new plants and lightning
bolts which contribute to the nitrogen cycle so critical for growth.
Destructive? Yes! Creative? Also yes!
The trickster has lost none of his allure in the 21st century. A popular character in the current Marvel Comic movies is Loki, the mischievous, malicious yet charming troublemaker who plagues the heroic Thor. Another is the cartoon character Bugs Bunny always getting the upper hand on his foes and having fun doing it. Wile E Coyote is often mentioned as a trickster character but I’m more inclined to think it’s really the Road Runner who consistently outsmarts his pursuer and pulls off more than a few tricks of his own. I can’t imagine their appeal ever fading. All these tricksters embody the chaotic side of life, ever changing, sometimes destructive but definitely never boring.
In a previous posting a few years back I offered up some thoughts about storytelling. Having published a few short stories with the magazine Into The Ruins, I am in the process of writing another but find myself detoured by a magical realism novel wanting to get written.
This is not something I planned. It just happened. Anyone who’s a writer often gets asked the question ‘how do you come up with your ideas?’ by someone curious about the creative process. The answer that’s given often frustrates the questioner but it’s the only one we can come up with and it kind of goes like this:
“I dunno. They just come.”
And it’s true. Writing a story, drawing a picture, sculpting, dancing, any activity involving human creativity is not something methodically planned out like building a house. It’s an organic process spontaneously emerging from somewhere deep inside the creator. Like Topsy, it just grows. The magical realism novel (currently not yet named) began as idle daydreams, that grew more complex until I realized it was time to write them down.
You can’t force ideas to come. Anyone who gardens knows when you plant seeds, you need to wait for them to sprout. They don’t do it on demand, no matter how much you beg and plead and stamp your feet. If the seeds are not viable, nothing will ever come but if they are, then one day without any warning the sprout breaks the surface of the soil and grows of its own accord.
When it comes to creativity, everything is grist for the mill. Watching people interact, reading folklore, mythology, history, biographies, any snippet of conversation overheard, traveling around looking at different things. All this gets absorbed by your unconscious to be processed, stirred around, incubated, fermented and eventually regurgitated when you start writing (or drawing or sculpting or whatever). Images from dreams can provide inspiration since that all comes from the unconscious.
When you start creating, don’t let your inner critic get in the way. You know, that little voice that keeps saying ‘that’s dumb’, ‘that’s been done before’, ‘that’s not perfect enough’. Just sit down and start doing your thing without worrying if it’s any good or not. The time for editing is after you’ve written down or drawn stuff. Don’t let so-called writer’s block get in the way. There’s really no such animal.
Just sit down and write/draw/compose/sculpt or whatever.
And if anyone asks you how you came up
with your ideas, you know what to say.
