Troping

Without cable television, I am reliant on print for information about the coming hurricane.  It is nice not to be constantly involved in the hype, but this morning, I can find little relevant reporting on the monster.  There seems to be some sort of storm weariness in the media.  From what I can gather, however, I am in for a real bad thing.  

The old question, "What would you do if you knew you only had days to live?" comes to mind.  People's answers are usually silly.  You would do nothing but sit, think, reflect, perhaps with the aid of anti-anxiety drugs to counter the constant and terrible adrenaline rush.  You wouldn't try to live your life "to the fullest."  That time would be over.  It would be too late.  

The thing is coming about which you can do nothing.  See "Don't Look Up" (link).  

"I don't deserve this," you would think, but as William Munny says in "Unforgiven," "Deserve ain't got nothing to do with it, kid.  If we got what we deserved, we'd all starve to death."

So I sit and wait on what comes next, the inevitable.  Or as "we" decided a post or two ago, Fate.  

One thinks of those who live in war-torn countries, displaced people with ruined lives.  A terrorist must feel some godlike sense of power in bringing destruction to others, take them from the lives they were living.  They must feel as if they are Harpies of Fate.  

I am sick of terrorist and terror.  

I read an article on one of my favorite contemporary authors this morning, Michel Houellebecq (link).  He is a novelist of quiet despair.  It is difficult for me to recommend him to friends for his novels are anything but uplifting.  Most modern literature is not.  I had a mostly brilliant colleague who had authored two books on contemporary poetry who thought modern literature was a major source of depression.  I disagreed saying that I found it cheering to know I wasn't the only one in the world who experienced life in such a way.  One doesn't read Woolf or Hemingway or Faulkner to have a cheery time.  Nor a Christian Bible for that matter.  And certainly not the Koran.  And as this morning's article touches on, fairy tales, neither.  They are dark.  

One reads in order to prepare.  

And so. . . there are alcohol and drugs.  I took knockout drops to sleep last night.  And I did.  The whole night through.  But the morning did not break bright and cheery.  There is still the coming of the storm.  

I'm a bit of a drama king, I know.  Read this metaphorically.  The storm is real, but it is a trope.  I am troping like a mad hatter.  I always am, always do.  Blame it on my education.  I am what it has made of me.