I think I do this in so many ways. Music, movies, TV, novels, magazines, radio, and the computer lure me away from what ? Writing, creating, taking care of business. I am trying to run away, but run away from what?
Is reality so awful ? What is it anyway ? Why do we describe it as “cold, hard, reality” ? What does that mean ? Is it boring ? Is it harsh ? Why do we think of it that way ?
So we have stories instead. Tell me a story. There are many kinds of stories, but their purpose is the same, to take us out of this world into another. Quests, epic journeys, adventures, overcoming great odds, fantastic tales of space and time. Tales of depravity and saintliness, the ever popular struggle between good and evil, (in the best stories evil gets it’s butt kicked). Oh yeah, love. Good old love stories.
Why do we tell stories ?
I am fresh out of answers today. ( Seems a chronic condition this winter ).
I think I am in a very strange place. I am daydreaming of chocolate eclairs and I don’t even LIKE the blasted things. What is THAT all about ?
Perhaps change is blowing in the wind. . .
“An ill wind was blowing across the moor, carrying the smell of burning carcasses. . .”
Oh wait, that IS reality here at my house !
( Please see “Ode to Stench” in the November 11th diary entry. )
I forgot to add “stinky” to the list of reality’s attributes. : - )